Good Karma

by Donya Lynne

  The door latched quietly behind her as he closed it.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Saturday night.” He took a seat.

  Of course he did.

  She sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and closed her eyes for a moment to gather her courage to face the elephant that had stood between them all day. He was probably upset that she hadn’t told him the truth about who she was. If she had been honest, maybe he wouldn’t have walked into Solar deaf, dumb, and blind, and she wouldn’t have been caught off guard.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted at the same time he did.

  Her cheeks heated and she looked away as he smiled.

  “Why are you apologizing?” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I lied about who I am.”

  “You innocently misled me.” He sounded like a lawyer leading his witness.

  “Same thing.”

  He paused then said, “I think you already know that I knew you weren’t a model.” His dark, benevolent eyes softened what could have been a much harder blow under the circumstances.

  All she had wanted was to pretend to be someone else for a night. If she had known what the consequences of her actions would be, she would have reconsidered her behavior.

  “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for how I behaved. With you, I mean.”

  This was surprising. “Why?”

  He sighed. “I never should have taken you to my room. I made assumptions and moved way too fast.” He met her gaze with sincerity. “Yes, I found you attractive, and yes, I enjoyed our time together, but taking you to my room like some one-night stand isn’t who I am. It’s not who I aspire to be, and you deserve better than that.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t normally treat women so casually, Karma, and I just wanted to apologize for my behavior.” He took a moment to study her.

  All she could do was stare.

  “And I’d like to make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner and show you that I do know how to behave myself while in the company of a beautiful woman.” He grinned and one lone dimple creased his right cheek.

  He wanted to take her to dinner? This just got better and better. Lisa’s words crept back into her thoughts. Go for it. Was she really considering doing just that?

  “Tonight?”

  “Actually, tonight I’m meeting your boss for dinner, but if you’re free Friday night, I’ve made reservations at St. Elmo’s.” Then, as an afterthought, “I never miss an opportunity to eat at St. Elmo’s when I come to Indy.”

  Tonight, Friday night, who cared? All that mattered was that he was asking her out. Well, asking her to dinner. This wasn’t a date, just him atoning for whatever guilt he might be harboring about this weekend.

  Still, Karma had thought all the embers of Saturday night’s fairy tale had turned to cold ash, but apparently, one still smoldered. Mark had used that word again—beautiful. And with that one word, the evening, the dress, the shoes, and the magic all flared back to life. Once more, she was Cinderella, and how could Cinderella say no to her prince, especially after he’d just called her beautiful again?

  Chapter 8

  Serendipity: The effect by which one accidentally stumbles upon something truly wonderful, especially while looking for something entirely unrelated.

  -Author Unknown

  On Tuesday morning, Karma was making a mug of tea in the break room, her mind backtracking to Saturday night in Chicago, when Mark walked in and placed a couple of bottles of juice in the fridge.

  “You should label those,” she said, shoving aside the memory of his kiss. “Otherwise, they might not be there when you come back for them later.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” He cozied up beside her and poured a cup of coffee. He smelled clean, like soap and aftershave, and his hair was slightly damp. “You wouldn’t happen to have a Sharpie, would you?” How did every word out of his mouth sound like a come-on?

  She opened a nearby drawer. “We keep some in here.”

  He pulled out a marker, returned to the fridge, and marked his initials on the caps of the bottles. Then he tossed the marker back in the drawer. “By the way, good morning.” He added a packet of sugar to his coffee.

  “Good morning.” She lifted her tea, blew on it, and took a sip. Pleasant tension settled between them, as if he were remembering their time together in Chicago, too.

  After he stirred the sugar into his coffee, he flipped the stir stick into the trash, picked up his cup, and followed her out.

  “Do you think you could recommend a few local restaurants?” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to stock my kitchen, yet, and could use some suggestions so I don’t get stuck in a rut.”

  “Kitchen?”

  “Yes. My company set me up in a condo while I’m here.”

  “Oh, okay. Sure, I could recommend a few places. What kinds of food do you like?”

  They reached the stairs and headed up. “I’m pretty flexible. Maybe something unique to Clover. Little mom-and-pop places or specialty spots unique to the city.”

  “Okay. I’ll make a list for you.” Why did she feel like they were making small talk for small talk’s sake?

  At her desk, he departed for the conference room, and Karma stared after him. Should she seek cover or stand in an open field waiting for lightning to strike? Because that’s how it felt to be around him.

  * * *

  After Pilates Wednesday night, Karma swung by her favorite pizza place, Greek Tony’s, for dinner. The quaint dive didn’t look like much, with Formica tables, wood paneling walls, and a mish-mash of mirrored pictures depicting various brands of beer alongside portraits of local sports teams the small restaurant had sponsored over the years. But you couldn’t beat the food. This was the real deal. The best pizza and Italian subs in Clover.

  “Hi, Andrew,” she said to the twentysomething behind the counter. She was on a first-name basis with most of the staff, and Andrew was her favorite. He was always quick with a smile and knew what she ordered by heart.

  “Hi, Karma. The usual?” Andrew didn’t even wait for her to agree before he started entering her order.

  “Please. Thank you.” Karma pulled out her credit card, paid, and then took her small cup to the soda fountain and filled it with cherry Coke.

  When she turned and looked for a place to sit, she smiled when her gaze met Mark’s. He was sitting at a table along the wall, watching her. It was as if fate was trying to send her a message. He just kept popping up everywhere she went.

  Ugh. She was starting to sound like Lisa. It’s a sign!

  He waved to the empty chair across from him, and after a heartbeat’s hesitation, she decided to join him. They hadn’t talked much the past three days, but she had begun helping him pull reports and work up correspondence. There was no reason why she shouldn’t share a table with him.

  “Wow, our second date, and I’m not even trying,” he said with a smile as she approached.

  “Is this a date?” She took a seat.

  He laughed. “Sure. Why not?” He took a bite of his sandwich.

  “What have you got there?” She nodded toward his sub and sipped her Coke.

  He wiped sauce from the corner of his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Stromboli.”

  “I’ve never had it, but I’m sure it’s delicious.”

  “It is.” He took another bite. “Want some?”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “No, really. You should try it.”

  She bit her lip. “Okay, why not?”

  He tore off a messy chunk dripping with sauce and held it across the table. Obviously, he intended to feed her. With a nervous little chuff, she leaned forward and opened her mouth. He popped the bite between her lips then sat back.

  “Well?” he said as she chewed.

  She finished the bite and swallowed. “It’s good, but then, it’s Tony’s. Everything’s good here.”

  �
��Well, when you wrote ‘best pizza in town’ beside their name on the list you gave me, there was no way I could resist.”

  “You like pizza?”

  “I like Italian.”

  She took a closer look at him. He had the right features, the dark hair, and a slightly olive complexion. “Are you Italian?”

  He swallowed another bite. “Half. My mother is Italian, but you’d never know it listening to her talk. Her English is perfect. You only hear the Italian influence when she says things like ‘mozzarella’ or ‘bruschetta.’”

  She liked how he said both words with a foreign accent. “Do you speak Italian, too?”

  “Yes, but I’m out of practice.”

  “Say something.”

  He thought a moment. “Mi piace passare del tempo con te.”

  Who would have thought a foreign language could sound so sexy? “What did you say?”

  “I enjoy spending time with you.”

  She smiled as her cheeks flamed.

  “Sei carina quando arrossisci.”

  She giggled even though she had no idea what he’d said. It just sounded like something that would make her giggle. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re cute when you blush.” Then he said, “Mi piace farti arrossire.”

  “What did you say?”

  His eyes twinkled. “I like making you blush.”

  Warmth filtered down to her neck as she hid her face. “How do you say ‘you’re good at it’?”

  He laughed. “Sei bravo a farlo.”

  “Well, sei bravo a farlo then.”

  “Si. Grazie.”

  “I can tell I’m going to have to learn Italian.”

  “It’s not too hard.”

  “Says one who already knows the language.”

  Andrew appeared with her sub and set it in front of her then headed back behind the counter.

  Mark nodded toward her sandwich. “So, what’s ‘the usual’?”

  Obviously, he had heard the exchange with Andrew when she ordered.

  “Meatball sub.”

  “I would never have guessed that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You just don’t seem like a meatball sub type.”

  “What type do I look like?” She blew on the edge of the sandwich before taking a cautious bite, trying not to burn her tongue.

  “Salad. Sushi. Tofu.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Tofu?”

  “I guess that’s a no?”

  “Yes, that’s a no. I prefer real meat.”

  He nodded toward her sub. “I can tell. That looks terrific.”

  “Want a bite?” She cut off a piping hot piece and blew on it then held it out just as he had done for her. He leaned forward and gingerly took it into his mouth.

  “So? What do you think?” Karma bit off another chunk.

  “I think I’ll have to get that next time. That’s delicious.”

  “I know, right?”

  They ate in silence for a moment.

  “So, your mom is Italian. What about your dad?”

  “He’s got some Italian in him, too, but he’s mostly Greek. What about you?”

  “English on my mom’s side, mostly German on my dad’s.”

  They made more small talk as they finished their meal, then Mark sat back. “So, what do you do for fun?”

  She shrugged. “I usually just hang out with my friends.” Lame. He was probably used to going to parties and social events every other night.

  “And where do you go?”

  “Mostly, we just stay in or go out to eat.”

  He stood and gestured toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go.” He had a presumptuous expression on his face.

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I don’t know. I should probably just go home.”

  “And miss the fun. No way. Come on.” He nodded toward the exit. “Come with me. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

  She sighed and bit her lip. Should she go with him? Her cautious side sat on one shoulder, legs crossed, admonishing her for even considering it. On her other shoulder, her new goddess side she had discovered Saturday night hopped up and down, pumping its little fist. “Go, go, go!” it seemed to be saying.

  The goddess won.

  “Okay, sure, why not?” Once more, she went against everything she’d been taught. Don’t go to strange men’s hotel rooms. Don’t get into a strange man’s car. But Mark really wasn’t a stranger, anymore. Not really.

  He drove her toward downtown Clover and parallel parked along the packed road in front of Finnigan’s. Loud music poured into the street when someone opened the door.

  A sign out front read Ladies Night. Another read Karaoke 7-11PM.

  “What are we doing here?” Karma said.

  Mark held the door for her then followed her in. “I passed by here on my way to dinner and thought it looked like fun.”

  Music blared. The place was packed for a Wednesday night.

  They managed to find a small, vacant table crammed in the back corner.

  “Stay here. I’ll get us a couple of drinks,” Mark said as she sat down. “What would you like?”

  “Virgin daiquiri.” She had to drive later, so it was non-alcoholic for her.

  He gave her a look. “Oh come on. Just one drink. It’ll work out of your system before you drive home. Live a little. Have some fun.”

  She nibbled her bottom lip then said, “Okay, a margarita.” The list of things she’d been taught not to do but did anyway continued to grow.

  “Be right back.” He disappeared into the crowd.

  Finnigan’s was abuzz with laughter and music, and drinks were flowing, making the men bold and the women daring. A couple of platinum blondes with obvious breast implants hawked Mark as he made his way to the bar, and a stab of jealousy sent green-eyed shards through her blood. As if she had a right to be jealous. The taller of the two touched his arm to get his attention then said something. He smiled politely and shook his head before continuing to the bar. Whatever he told them left them with disappointed faces.

  Good for Mark.

  She settled into her chair. While waiting for him to return, she checked her watch. Seven thirty. It seemed that the karaoke was in a break, or maybe it just wasn’t late enough for the patrons to be drunk enough to have the guts to sing.

  Karma had always said she wanted to try karaoke, but every time she got a chance, she chickened out. She’d been told she was a good singer, but the idea of singing on stage made her squeamish. Singing in front of friends was one thing, but in front of strangers was another. What if she messed up? What if she sang off-key? The fear of embarrassment was greater than her desire to let loose, so karaoke remained on her bucket list.

  Where was Mark? He had been gone an awfully long time.

  She had just begun to search the crowd by the bar when the music cut off and the spotlight shone on the stage.

  On Mark!

  She gasped and sat forward as the music for Pharrell’s “Happy” started. Behind him, on a large screen, the video began to play, but all eyes were on him.

  He started to sing and every woman in the bar fixed him in her sights. A split second later the place erupted into a frenzy. Mark could sing. And he could dance. And for a man with such a deep voice, he had a hot falsetto. Every woman in the room, including her, fell a little bit in love.

  She could only sit, stunned, and watch, mesmerized by his loose hips and fast feet. By the end of the song, most of the bar’s patrons were on their feet, singing along, dancing and clapping. Then the cheers and whistles rose again as he bowed and waved to the crowd.

  For about a minute, Mark was the star of the evening as he forged his way through the crowd to their table, drinks in hand. He set hers in front of her.

  “That was great,” she said as he sat down. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

  “Double threat. Dancing. Singing.” A thin film of perspiration coated his forehead
. “My parents are professional dancers.”

  Well, that explained his moves. Apparently, some of Mom’s and Dad’s talent had rubbed off.

  “Well, everyone loved you.” She sipped her drink.

  “And they’ll love you, too.”

  “Huh?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

  “You’re next,” he said.

  “What?” She froze mid-sip as what felt like ice water broke through her veins.

  He gestured toward the stage, grinning wickedly. “You’re up. They’re waiting for you.”

  “WHAT!” This was what she got for getting into a strange man’s car, going to his room last Saturday night, and agreeing to drink alcohol when she would have to drive later. Punishment.

  He laughed. “Oh go on. It’ll be fun.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. The words are right there on the screen. It’s easy.”

  “Mark.” She was whining, but she didn’t care. “Are you trying to humiliate me?”

  He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “Oh come on. It’s not that bad.”

  “Yes it is.” What he was asking was the equivalent of throwing her into the ocean without a life preserver when she didn’t know how to swim…in the middle of a hurricane.

  “Oh, go on. You know if you don’t you’ll regret it.”

  A spotlight turned on her.

  “Don’t make me do this,” she said.

  He pointed toward the stage. “They’re waiting. No one else can go until you do.” He took her hand and helped her out of her seat.

  “Mark, no…”

  “You’ll be great.” He gave her a gentle nudge, and she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Come on, everybody,” he yelled into the crowd. “Give her a little encouragement. It’s her first time.”

  Really? He had to make virgin references at a time like this?

  But the crowd cheered. A couple of men beside her clapped her on the back. “You’ll be fine,” one said.

  “Just try to imagine everyone naked,” said the other.

  “I don’t think that’ll help.” But she was walking now.