by Donya Lynne
She wore a simple, magenta button-down blouse she had bought during an impromptu shopping trip with Daniel and Zach earlier in the week. She had paired it with black slacks and the black shoes she had worn on Monday.
“Thank you.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Although…” His mouth curved into a crooked grin. “That blouse would look so much better if you unbuttoned one or two buttons.”
Karma’s pulse quickened at the thought as she lifted her hand to her collar. If she unbuttoned it, wouldn’t that show too much skin?
“Just a suggestion,” he said as if noticing her sudden discomfort. “But that blouse is made to be unbuttoned. Trust me.” He smiled then turned back to his laptop, casually dismissing her.
She returned to her desk and slowly sat down. A cauldron of sensations stirred and bubbled inside her. Excitement, daring, fear. She glanced at Mark. He was focused on the screen of his tablet, seemingly oblivious to the storm he had awakened inside her.
Why did she suddenly feel like one of Pavlov’s dogs? Mark acknowledged her blouse with positive reinforcement, and now all she wanted was to please him more. If she did, would he keep paying her compliments?
Yet, she hadn’t expected him to say something like that about her blouse. His words seemed so innocent, but the tone of his voice, as well as the way his eyes glinted, oozed a subtle sexuality she recognized as purely Mark. After their trip to Finnigan’s, as well as a few innocent conversations at the office, she had learned that nothing about him was overt. Every move, every suggestion, came disguised as an innocuous expression meant to provoke a response. For all its apparent innocence, Mark’s suggestion to unbutton her blouse may as well have been an outright challenge. It was as if he wanted to see if she had the guts to push out of her comfort zone.
For several minutes, she sat at her desk, unmoving, her mind racing. Mark was busy typing away, calm as could be, while she broke out in a sweat over something as simple as unfastening one or two tiny buttons. What the hell? Was this really such a big deal? Women wore more revealing blouses than hers—unbuttoned or not—all the time.
She looked down at her blouse. Maybe it would look better unbuttoned. She would certainly look less like a nun. But then she risked showing off her scant cleavage. Cleavage? Who was she kidding? She needed the help of a Wonderbra stuffed with Beyoncé’s ample curves to give her cleavage, which implied mounds of flesh pushed against each other. What Karma had up top could not be described as mounds of flesh. Her childhood classmates had made that abundantly and repeatedly clear.
She looked around the open space surrounding her desk. No one was watching. Why not take a chance? Grow up a little? Put the insults of her youth behind her once and for all. Memories of Jolene and her brother laughing and making fun of her flashed through her mind, and she frowned before glancing down the hall in the direction Jolene had gone a few minutes ago.
The resulting jolt of anger provided motivation.
Just do it, for God’s sake!
She rapidly unfastened the top button, then the next one.
There. Take that, Jolene.
She had gotten over feeling exposed in the red dress last Saturday night, and she would get over feeling exposed in her blouse. Nothing to it.
A few minutes later, Mark packed up his laptop and grabbed his jacket.
He approached her desk. “Karma, do you think you could recommend—” His eyes dropped to the open collar of her blouse. His brows gave an upward tick, as did the corners of his mouth, and he stepped closer to her desk as he lifted his gaze to hers and cleared his throat. “I’m hoping you could recommend a gym. Maybe one that has basketball courts?” His eyes drilled hers with obvious delight.
She took a shaky breath, certain that her blouse had fallen open to reveal her breasts, but she refused to fidget or cover herself. “The gym I use has four full basketball courts.” Her mouth suddenly went dry. It was like she had a mouthful of cotton.
“You work out?” A note of approval lilted his voice.
She nodded and maintained eye contact, quelling her nerves as she peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Yes. Yoga and Pilates three times a week.”
He offered an appreciative tilt of his head. “Nice. I try to run a couple of miles a day and do some weight lifting. Do you ever lift weights?”
She shook her head and worried the tip of her right thumb over the fingernails on her left hand. “No, not really.”
Mark adjusted his bag over his shoulder. “You should give it a try.” He lowered his voice. “Some men find it sexy.” His gaze flashed to her blouse again.
Karma caught her breath, and her skin prickled with heat.
He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Not that you need to worry about that.”
Mark was purposely trying to unnerve her. But he could be so alluring like this, playful and flirtatious.
She bit the inside of her lip.
“Forgive me. I’m embarrassing you.” But he didn’t sound like he really wanted forgiveness. It was obvious to Karma that he knew exactly what he was doing and felt no remorse whatsoever. To him, this was a game, and he was the master. And yet…she still wanted to play.
“You’re not embarrassing me.” But the flames running down her neck said otherwise. She couldn’t even hide behind her hair, because it was pulled into her usual chignon.
He looked much too pleased with himself as he adjusted his bag once more and checked his watch. “Well, perhaps you could give me the name of your gym? I’d like to check it out.”
As she grabbed a small notepad, she stole a glance at her blouse. Whew! Still covered. She scribbled down the name then tore the slip of paper from the pad. “They offer temporary memberships, and it’s only about five minutes from here, so it’s convenient.”
“So it is.” He folded the square of paper before tucking it into his palm. “I’ll check it out next week. Who knows, Miss Mason, perhaps I’ll see you there some night after work.”
Mental note: Look good at the gym. “Maybe you will.”
Then he leaned closer and whispered, “I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, he turned and left.
Karma stared numbly down the empty hall as if she could see the pheromone trail Mark had left behind. She had a feeling things were about to get interesting in her boring little world. And maybe, if she was lucky, Mark would misbehave again tonight.
Chapter 11
No matter how hard the past, you can always begin again.
-Buddha
By six thirty, Mark had found a parking garage near St. Elmo’s in downtown Indianapolis. He and Karma had chatted non-stop on the drive down. She’d asked where he was staying, and he’d informed her that his company had set him up in a condo. It was more cost effective than a hotel. They’d reminisced about their trip to Finnigan’s Wednesday night, and about how they both shared a love for jazz, as well as for watery locales. She’d told him that her dream vacation would be to a tropical island with white sand beaches and water so clear she could see all the way to the bottom. However, for all their easy conversation, she seemed reserved, as if she still needed time to get used to being around him.
When they got out of the car, they were met with the savory aroma of grilled steak, barbecue, and a myriad of other mouthwatering scents. They were smack in the middle of what Mark referred to as Food Alley. Three city blocks of every kind of restaurant imaginable.
A warm, blustery breeze tore between the tall buildings as they walked the short distance to St. Elmo’s. He opened the door, stepped aside to let her enter, then navigated her through the Friday night after-work bar crowd as the hostess led them to an intimate table for two along the wall.
After ordering them both an appetizer of shrimp cocktail, he rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “So, I’m dying to hear how an executive assistant from Indianapolis ended up at an arts benefit in Chicago last Saturday night.”
“My friend Daniel took me.”
&
nbsp; “Boyfriend?” He hoped not.
She grinned. “Daniel’s married.”
Mark breathed a sigh of relief.
“To another man,” she added a moment later.
“Oh. I see.”
Karma giggled.
He chuckled, feeling a little foolish. “I guess I asked for that.”
The server returned, filled their water glasses, and took their orders.
“So, how did you and Daniel meet?” he asked, then sipped his water.
“I’ve known Daniel since college.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Purdue.”
“You went to Purdue?” This was an interesting twist. He wouldn’t have imagined that a Purdue graduate would become an executive assistant. But with the job market the way it was, he had seen stranger things. He had an acquaintance who held a master’s degree and now worked as a greeter at Walmart. Times were tough, and people had to do what they had to do to get by. “What did you study?”
“I thought I was going to be a civil engineer my freshman year, but changed my major to mass communication with an emphasis on journalism after the first semester.”
“That’s quite a shift, isn’t it?”
“My dad wanted me to become an engineer more than I did. I had the aptitude and the grades for it, but not the passion.”
There was something to be said for passion in one’s job. Without it, work became toxic drudgery. With it, work became the nectar of life.
“And you have a passion to write?”
Her whole face lit up. “Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you doing that instead of working for Solar?” Clearly, her heart lay with the written word, not administration.
Defeat replaced joy and her shoulders sagged just enough for him to notice. “I had a job lined up at the local paper after I graduated, but they withdrew their offer. The economy couldn’t support the employees they already had, so they couldn’t add one more. In fact, they laid off a few.” She lifted her hands, palms up, and then dropped them to the table. “After that, I couldn’t find work in my field. I needed a job, and Dad knew Don. His assistant had just resigned, so he agreed to interview me. We hit it off right away.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Two years,” she said.
“And that makes you, what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-four.” Her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip and offered him a suppressed smile.
“Young and hungry. Willing to do whatever it takes. I was like that at twenty-four.” That had been before hell had descended on his life.
“How old are you now?” From the confusion in her expression, she looked as though she didn’t think he was much older than she was.
“Thirty.”
“Oh.” She looked surprised.
“How old did you think I was?” This should be good.
She fiddled with her cloth napkin. “I don’t know. Maybe twenty-seven.”
Silence descended between them again, and Karma nibbled her lip as she glanced away. Her bashfulness was adorable. For several seconds, he said nothing, content just to admire the way her cheeks remained flushed, as well as her nervous habit of tapping her pretty fingernails on the tablecloth.
“So,” he finally said, leading her back into conversation, “you found your way to Solar and became Don’s assistant.”
“Yes. It’s not what I went to school for, but I like it, and I’m good at what I do.”
There was a subtle note of reticence in her tone.
“But…?”
“But what?”
“But you don’t see yourself doing it forever, do you?”
Her expression told him he’d hit the nail on the head. “I know there’s something else out there for me. I just don’t know what it is or when I’ll find it.”
“You’ll figure it out when the time is right. Everything in its own time.” He paused. “But, you know, you don’t have to be a journalist or a reporter to write. You just need a pen and a piece of paper, or perhaps a blog. It could be a private blog only you see, or you can write under a pseudonym. There are plenty of options for you to express your passion.”
She appeared to contemplate that for a moment, a glimmer of inspiration in her eyes.
When she didn’t reply, he pushed their conversation back toward how she had found her way to Chicago. “So, you met Daniel at college.”
“Yes.” She perked up with the change in subject. “We took a creative writing class together freshman year. Hit it off immediately, much to my parents’ dismay. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are good people, but they’re just really conservative, especially my dad. Homosexuality isn’t exactly a popular subject with them, so they were a little surprised when I told them about Daniel.” She seemed to be on a roll now, talking animatedly. “But I liked him, and Mom and Dad accept him now, because they see how good we are together. He’s the brother—or rather the sister…” She hesitated, giggled, and then said as an afterthought, “He says he’s my sister.” She laughed again. “Anyway, he’s like the sister I never had wrapped inside the package of a best friend. But he’s from Chicago, and his sister is a dancer. As a matter of fact, she danced the exhibition Saturday night.”
“Sonya?” The world they lived in grew smaller as the six degrees of separation between them narrowed.
“Yes.” She sipped her water. “I should have told you when you said you knew her, but…”
“But…?” He prompted her to continue.
“I didn’t want to.” She forced a thin, sheepish smile. One that conveyed secrets and a touch of guilty indulgence.
“Why not?”
“Because…” She sighed and looked down. “I was enjoying myself too much.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, and Mark got the impression she wasn’t giving him the whole truth. And the only reason she wouldn’t want to reveal the truth was because doing so would reveal more about her than she wanted him to see. A vulnerability perhaps? Or maybe she wanted to deny her true feelings because they frightened her, and now she was hiding from them.
Hiding was a terrific way to keep from facing fears. He should know. He was still hiding from his. It takes one to know one. Wasn’t that how the saying went? Well, Mark could definitely see himself in Karma, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge his own faults.
“Anyway,” Karma said, “Daniel’s husband got sick and couldn’t attend, so he begged me to go instead. That’s how I ended up at the benefit.”
“Fortunately for me, you did.” He leaned toward her. “That dress you wore was stunning.” He briefly took in her magenta blouse. She had rebuttoned one of the buttons, much to his dismay. Still, it was an improvement over the boxy, mannish suits she had worn the rest of the week. Her work attire was such a vast contrast from Saturday night’s striking dress.
Karma blushed and glanced away. “Daniel bought it for me. His family’s rich, and he insisted on buying it. He said it was his way of saying thanks.”
“That’s some thanks. It definitely caught my eye.” And everyone else’s at the event. The question now was, how had she gone from wearing a dress like that to frumpy suits? He didn’t think he would be able to end the evening until he had an answer, or at least a more definitive theory.
Their shrimp cocktail arrived, and they took a short break from talking to eat.
After eating half his shrimp, he dabbed his fingers on his cloth napkin and took a sip of water. “I’m curious about one thing, though. Why the ruse about being a model? I was only joking when I guessed that as your profession, but then you played along.” This one small infraction had intrigued him more than anything else.
Color touched her cheeks, and she shrugged as she glanced toward the bar. “I don’t know.”
“You had to have a reason. What was it? I haven’t been able to figure it out.” But he had a few educated guesses.
Karma swirled one of her shrimp in her sauce, eyes downca
st. After a long moment passed, she finally said, “It’s not very glamorous.” She met his gaze. “Being an executive assistant.”
He fished the last shrimp from his glass. “Why is that important?”
Another shrug. “It just didn’t seem…I don’t know…impressive enough.”
He wiped his fingers on his napkin. “For every day, or just for Saturday night?”
She nodded at the latter. “Mostly Saturday.” She sighed and got a faraway look in her eyes. “That place, that hotel…it was so fancy, and I’m so…”
“So what?”
“So ordinary.”
He fought back a laugh. “I can assure you, in that dress, in those shoes, looking the way you did…you were definitely not ordinary.”
“Well, that was all just the façade.”
“And what a lovely façade it was.”
She shook her head. “Maybe I looked like I fit in on the outside, but inside, I felt…” She looked lost for words.
“Plain?”
Her gaze fell to the table. “Yes.”
“And you wanted to be not plain, is that it?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“And who were you trying to impress with your make-believe alter ego?”
She met his gaze for an instant before looking away again, and the color in her cheeks deepened. For several seconds, she didn’t say anything. Then, “You, I guess.” She looked at him, and modesty pulled at her tender features.
He pushed his empty cocktail glass aside then reached across the table and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“I’m flattered.” He crossed his forearms on the table. “But you didn’t need to try to impress me. I was already impressed, whether you tried or not. And to be honest, I was more concerned about impressing you.” He chuffed as he recalled how poorly he had treated her. “Something which I failed miserably at, by the way.”
“No you didn’t.” She spoke up quickly. Almost too quickly. “You didn’t fail. I was impressed.” Her kind smile and the way her eyes sparkled warmed his heart.