Full Circle

by Lynne, Donya

  They sat in silence for a couple minutes, their legs lazily kicking in the water.

  It was nice to finally open up. To even the playing field and share more of himself with Karma when he already knew so much about her. The only other person he’d ever come close to doing that with was Carol, but even she didn’t know the things about him Karma knew, mostly because she’d been the cause of them. Or at least the catalyst. He never would have met Nina and fallen into a pit of hell had Carol not left him the way she did.

  Then again, he wouldn’t have discovered all the fetishes he’d come to enjoy, either. Talk about a Catch-22.

  But Carol had known about his money. She had all but been a part of the family, even before he’d met her. His parents had known her for two years before bringing her into their studio, so there hadn’t been much she didn’t know by the time he started dating her.

  Even so, like Karma, she’d never come across as a gold digger. Whatever problems they’d had in their relationship hadn’t been created by his money. The fact she’d ended up not marrying him confirmed as much. It was her one and only saving grace. A gold digger would have seen the marriage through then divorced him later and taken half his shit. Carol hadn’t done that.

  She’d never even moved in with him, explaining she wanted to wait until after they were married to move in together and not just “shack up” because he could afford it. Which never really made sense, if he was being honest. In hindsight, that should have been his first sign she was having doubts about marrying him.

  Then again, hindsight was twenty-twenty.

  “Move in with me,” he blurted, breaking the silence.

  Karma’s head whipped around. “What?”

  He pulled his legs out of the water and turned toward her. “I’ve already been hunting for a place of my own. Why don’t we make it a place for us? You and me. Our own place, together.”

  Why shouldn’t they move in together? Why shouldn’t they find a home they could share? One with enough space to raise a dozen children if she wanted that many.

  “That’s a big step, Mark. Isn’t it too soon?”

  “It’s not soon enough, if you ask me.” He gripped her hands, hugging them within his fists.

  Once more, he thought to rush up to the bedroom for the ring, but once more, he remained rooted in place. Why was it so easy to discuss children and moving in together and yet so impossible to broach the subject of getting married?

  She searched his face, and then a slow smile crept over her mouth. “Okay. Yes.” She took a steadying breath as if she were both nervous and excited and wanted to remain calm. “Let’s do it.”

  Relief and joy rained over him. This was more than he’d ever gotten from Carol, and it felt like validation.

  “As soon as we get home, I’ll contact my realtor and have her begin feeding me listings again.”

  Karma’s hands trembled within his, but the smile remained on her face.

  “Our first house, Karma.” Everything was falling into place better than he could have hoped. “We’re really going to do this. This is really going to happen for us.”

  And there he went, putting the cart before the horse again. At some point, he would need to pay attention to the horse and pull out that engagement ring. He refused to return home without making their relationship official.

  They’d gotten a lot of important subjects out on the table tonight. Children, money, business, his past, and now the house.

  Yet the ring remained hidden out of sight.

  Chapter 7

  You cannot teach a man anything. You can only help him find it within himself.

  -Galileo Galilei

  On Sunday, and in need of some mental downtime to let the seriousness of Saturday night’s conversations sink in and mellow, Mark took Karma parasailing. Monday, he took her hiking. On Christmas Eve, they took a helicopter tour of the island and circled the twin peaks of Gros Piton and Petit Piton along the southwest coast, as well as the tallest mountain on the island, Mount Gimie, farther inland.

  On Christmas, Mark chartered a yacht for a private, twenty-four hour cruise.

  Karma had never been on a yacht. The closest she’d ever come was sitting in her dad’s fishing boat as he rowed them toward their favorite fishing spot on Peterman Lake.

  “What do you think?” Mark handed her a cocktail glass filled with a reddish-orange concoction then eased into the cushioned lounge chair beside her.

  Squinting against the sun, she took in the boat’s deck, which looked like something from Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, complete with a small pool and amenities that put her apartment to shame.

  “Let me put it to you this way. I never want to go home.”

  Mark laughed. “We have four more days.”

  She groaned. “Only four?”

  He clinked his glass to hers. “We’ll make the most of them.”

  They’d already been making the most of their time in Saint Lucia, participating in a new activity every day. At this point, she just wanted to relax and let the tropical sun and surf sweep her away.

  And she was ready for Mark to touch her again. Since their conversation Saturday night, he’d given her a lot of space. It was like he knew she needed time to work through her feelings on everything he’d shared with her. And that was just for the stuff he’d told her before he’d asked her to move in with him.

  And how about that? They’d only been back together a month, and they were going to move in together.

  Maybe most people—her dad included—would think a month was too soon, but she was learning that she wasn’t like most people, which Mark had so eloquently pointed out poolside Saturday night. Karma, you are anything but socially appropriate, which is what makes you so extraordinary, he’d said.

  She grinned at the memory then sighed as she laid her head back against the cushion and turned her face skyward, eyes closed.

  In the days since Saturday night, she’d absorbed everything he’d told her. And, surprisingly, most of the worry she’d felt by the pool Saturday night had dissipated. The man beside her was still the man she’d come to know almost two years ago. He was still the man she’d fallen in love with. He was just more real now. Some of the gaps of his past had been filled in, that’s all.

  But he’d withheld himself now for three days as if he wanted to give her time to think and digest everything he’d told her. Well, she’d had plenty of time for that. The time for processing was over. She wanted to feel that intimate connection with him again. The one she always felt when they made love. His whole soul seemed to open during sex, and she relished those moments when, for just a brief while, he lay stripped, completely unguarded.

  She sipped her fruity cocktail as she peered at Mark from behind her sunglasses. Her drink was surprisingly delicious. She couldn’t taste a lick of alcohol, but she knew it was there by the way it warmed her throat on the way down. Or maybe that was just the effect of staring at Mark. His skin was nicely tanned after five days in the sun, which made the ridges in his abdomen pop and the defined V leading into his swim trunks practically lickable. But it was his firm pecs and carved arms and shoulders that did Karma in. Mark had the kind of arms that, when he held a woman, made her feel like she was really being held, and not just held but safe.

  Her gaze shot to the two attractive waitresses who’d been waiting on them. Were they even called waitresses on a yacht? Whatever their job titles, the way they’d been making flirty eyes at Mark and staring at him since they’d boarded, she would just as soon call them boat bitches.

  She thought back to how Lisa had insinuated during dinner Friday night that she was more jealous than she wanted to admit. Okay, so maybe Lisa was right. Maybe she was a little possessive. She’d have to work on that.

  She hazarded a glance at the boat bitches eye fucking her man.

  Or not.

  Taking another sip of her drink, she picked up her sunscreen from the table beside her.

  “Could you put th
is on my back?” She held the bottle toward Mark.

  Asking him to put sunscreen on her might have been a barely veiled cliché, but she didn’t care. She simply wanted Mark to know she’d had enough time to ponder their discussion and was ready to have his hands on her again.

  Beyond ready.

  Because his touch was like meth. Totally addicting. And she’d gone far too long without a hit.

  She couldn’t see his eyes through his blackout sunglasses, but from the way his mouth quirked as he took the sunscreen from her hand, she could tell that he was piecing together her intentions.

  As nonchalantly as she could muster, she rolled onto her stomach, lowering the upper portion of the lounge chair.

  She heard the click of the cap being popped open, heard the soft gurgle of lotion being squeezed from the bottle, heard the slurping of the lotion as he rubbed it between his hands. Then his warm palms smoothed up and down her back, smearing the sunscreen over her skin.

  “You know, I’d intended this bikini for more private viewing.” His fingers brushed past the bow she’d tied in the strings midback.

  She was wearing the silver bikini. The one that resembled floss rather than swimwear. Changing into the bikini had been another attempt at ending his three-day abstinence.

  His fingers teased the bow, and for a moment, she thought he was going to untie it. “I’m not sure I like how the captain keeps ogling you. Perhaps I should ask you to put on something else?” Humor laced his voice.

  She turned her head toward him. “And I think the boat bitches need to stop staring at you like you’re ice water in the desert.”

  His hands froze briefly as a wide smile erupted over his face, and then he threw back his head, laughing.

  She plopped her cheek on the back of her hand, watching him, pleased with herself.

  “Boat bitches?” he said when he continued rubbing sunscreen on the backs of her shoulders.

  “The waitresses or whatever they’re called. They keep staring at you and giving you flirty looks.”

  “I can dismiss them if that will make you more comfortable.” His left hand skimmed down her spine until he reached her butt. He ran his fingertips back and forth just under the bikini’s elastic band.

  She had a feeling the women were watching them now, which was why Mark put on such a show.

  He bent down and whispered, “Or I could just fuck you right here, right now. That would make it quite clear where my heart is.”

  She pushed up on her elbows and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Or maybe they’d take it as an invitation to join in, which I will adamantly refuse, of course.”

  His brow wrinkled, and he pulled his fingers from her suit. “Karma . . .”

  She frowned. What had she said wrong? One second, they were playfully teasing each other, and the next he stomped on the brakes.

  He straightened. “When I told you I’ve had sexual encounters with multiple partners, I wasn’t saying I wanted to do that with you.”

  Whoa, wait a minute. How had he inferred that?

  “Mark, that’s not what I was saying.”

  But she’d already lost him. He glanced away, the breeze blowing his short hair off his forehead as he laced his fingers contemplatively between his knees.

  She sat up and faced him. “Mark, I really didn’t mean anything by what I said. I thought we were playing around, teasing each other. You know, playing a sexy game. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He bowed his head and uttered a derisive grumble. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just struggling to put shit back together inside my head.”

  She wasn’t used to seeing Mark so uptight. He was usually so confident and easygoing, but clearly, this self-rediscovery he was going through made him uneasy. Maybe even unsure of himself.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Just . . .” He rubbed his palms up her knees and rested them on her thighs. “Just be patient with me. I promise, I’ll get there. I’m just . . .” He sighed and glanced away again.

  She scooted to the edge of her lounge chair and draped her forearms over his shoulders. “Give yourself time, Mark, and let me be here for you the way you were there for me two years ago. You know, when you helped me realize I’m no longer the flat-chested tomboy who got teased in school. Remember that?” She bent down, pulling his gaze to hers as she offered him a grin. “Remember how self-conscious I was about my body and how you made me see myself through different eyes . . . your eyes?”

  That brought a smile to his lips, and his grip on her thighs tightened appreciatively. “Of course I remember.”

  “I was messed up in the head, too. I saw myself as this insignificant ugly duckling, but you helped me see that I’m a swan.”

  “I thought you were beautiful. I still do.” His hands eased farther up her thighs.

  She rolled her head to one side. “But what you saw when you looked at me wasn’t what I saw when I looked at myself. Same thing you’re going through now. For whatever reason, you’re stuck on this idea that your past actions represent who you are now.” She slid her arms around his neck, leaning closer. “But they don’t. Maybe they influenced who you’ve become, but that’s a good thing. You’re a better man now. You’ve got stronger principles. And that’s because of your past. You’re the man you are because you didn’t want to be that other man anymore.”

  “But who am I?” He seemed almost to be talking to himself.

  “What do you mean?”

  He pulled away, dragging his palms down to her knees. “I mean, who am I? I’m changing, Karma. I’m not who I was eight years ago. I’m not even who I was two years ago, a year ago, or even a month ago. So, who am I?” He stood and paced to the rail, where he gripped the top, putting all his weight on his arms.

  For several seconds, she stared at his back. At the muscles that bunched and flexed in his shoulders and down the length of his spine. He was a physical marvel. On the outside, he was the physical representation of put-together. One look at him, and you assumed he was a powerful man. A man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. A man in control of every facet of his life.

  And that was what Karma had seen the first time they met. And the second. And for the four months they’d spent together two summers ago.

  But this man she’d shared a bed with for the past month wasn’t the same one she’d met in Chicago. He was troubled, confused, maybe a little lost. In some ways, she loved this Mark more, but in others, she worried he might have changed too much and wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, because she had a feeling the man he was becoming was an even better version than the one she already knew.

  She joined Mark at the railing, gliding her hand down his back.

  He turned his head toward her, his expression bleak. “Have I scared you away, yet?”

  “No. Not even close.”

  “Then you’re a tougher person than I am, because, if I were in your shoes, I’m not so sure I wouldn’t be running the opposite direction from a guy like me.” He forced a smile as if he wanted to demonstrate he was only kidding, but the grim set of his jaw said there was some truth to his words.

  She glanced over his shoulder at the boat bitches attentively watching them from inside. Then she leaned provocatively against his arm. “Dismiss the staff, and I’ll show you just how much I’m not second-guessing my decision to get involved with you.” She possessively ran her hand down his back again and over the curve of his ass. Then, with a gentle squeeze, she turned and walked away, into the cabin, and past the boat bitches, who stared after her as if she were crazy for leaving such a fine man all alone.

  Let them think they had a chance. She knew better. She could already feel Mark’s gaze burning into her backside.

  He was hers. Hook. Line. And sinker.

  Chapter 8

  It takes real planning to organize this kind of chaos.

  -Mel Odom

  At sunset, Karma sat at
the vanity in the impressive master suite, brushing a bit of mascara on her lashes. She’d showered and put on a light green halter dress that matched her eyes and showed off her sun-kissed shoulders, which still smelled like coconuts and bananas from her sunscreen. She twisted her hair into a loose up-do and clipped it in back.

  As she’d requested, Mark had dismissed the crew over an hour ago, right after dinner, leaving the yacht theirs for the night.

  She’d never been much of a seductress, but tonight, she was going to show Mark just how grateful she was to have him back in her life and that his worries she would leave him were unfounded.

  Grabbing a blue and green scarf from the table, she stood and made her way down the carpeted steps from the circular master suite, through the mirrored hallway, pattered barefoot across the enormous cream-colored rug in what she’d deemed the Great Room, because it was large enough to host one of Solar’s company meetings, and then up another set of stairs to the upper deck, where she found Mark relaxing on one of the oversized deck couches.

  He wore khaki cargo shorts that extended just past his knees and a loose-fitting, navy blue button-up shirt. Two glasses of wine sat on the table in front of him.

  “You look nice.” He stood and welcomed her into a tender embrace, kissing her cheek. “Mmm, smell good, too.”

  Old Mark was back, at least for now. She just had to keep him there. She smiled, brushing her cheek against his.

  “So do you.” The mild but zesty scent of his cologne stirred her senses.

  The fact he was acting more like his old self reassured her. The Mark she’d come to know was still there. He was just struggling to find footing with New Mark.

  He guided her to the couch and handed her one of the wineglasses as the breeze cooled the back of her exposed neck. She still held the scarf, and the ends lifted on the wind as she wrapped her fingers around the stem of the glass and tilted it to her lips.

  Mark watched her drink over the rim of his own glass then settled the base on the arm of the couch.