Good Karma

by Donya Lynne

  “But I scared you.”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  He was confused. “I must have. You left my room so suddenly. And I’ll be the first to admit you had every right to. I was way out of line.”

  “That was me, not you.” She closed her eyes and lowered her face into her hand. “I feel like such an idiot. I just…yes, I got scared, but…” She blew out a nervous breath. “Trust me, it wasn’t you. That was all me, okay? Not you.”

  He didn’t understand, but she clearly wanted to assure him her quick departure hadn’t been his fault. Whatever had made her flee his hotel room had been her doing, not his, and now he was even more curious. The more time he spent with Karma, the more she puzzled him. And Mark liked puzzles. Especially ones that came in a pretty little package with pretty green eyes and a heart-shaped mouth.

  She seemed like a woman on the cusp of letting go but didn’t know how. She was innocent yet audacious. Sweet yet bold. A woman unaware of her allure, but who wanted to learn.

  He could show her how to let go. He could teach her to embrace her charms. He wanted to. This was what he had spent the last six years mastering, this art of love and seduction.

  He leaned forward, closing the short distance created by the small, white-clothed table. “You’re not used to men kissing you the way I did, are you?”

  She blushed. It was adorable and endearing the way she kept doing that. She dropped her gaze to her hands again and didn’t say anything.

  “Is that it?” He didn’t need an answer. Her silence and the way she refused to meet his eyes already told him he was right.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. So quietly he almost couldn’t hear her over the crowd near the bar.

  A few more pieces in Karma’s puzzle fell into place.

  Chapter 12

  Don’t let your fear of what could happen make nothing happen.

  -Doe Zantamata

  After dinner, Mark suggested they enjoy the city and take a walk, and since Karma didn’t have anything waiting at home but the couch, a pair of sweats, and a Friday night movie, she figured why not? So, they ventured out and eventually found their way to the Circle Center Mall.

  As they passed the entrance to Carson Pirie Scott, a pretty blouse caught her eye, and she stopped to take a closer look. Until last weekend, she hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d gotten a real haircut or shopped just for fun. Focused on school and work for the past several years, shopping and tending to her appearance had fallen way down on her list of priorities. Even two years out of college, she still lived according to comfort instead of style. Not that she had ever been much of a fashionista, but at one time, she had actually been interested in makeup, trying to style her unruly hair, and buying cute outfits once in a while. But then came college. While attending Purdue, she had gotten used to pulling her hair back, yanking on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, and darting to class without even a glance in the mirror. The habit had stuck. Maybe it was time she broke it.

  “This would look good on you,” he said, lifting the sleeveless tie-neck top off the rack. The fabric shimmered, an abstract print in shades of coral, tan, cream, and black.

  “I like it.” She ran her fingers over the material, which felt cool and slick.

  There was nothing like it in her wardrobe, so colorful and youthful, yet elegant. Had she really let herself go this badly? Had she ratcheted herself so far down on her list of priorities that complacency had locked her wardrobe—and herself— into a dull, outdated palette?

  Mark held the blouse toward her and leaned back, head tilted, as if imagining what it would look like on her. “Would you wear something like this, I wonder?”

  The question sounded like a trap.

  “Or this?” Mark picked up another blouse. This one was a floral print in muted pastels of slate blue, moss green, and peach on a robin’s-egg blue background. Ruffles adorned the front of the blouse beneath the mandarin collar, and delicate brushed metal buttons decorated the placket. “What do you think of this?”

  “It’s pretty, too.” Both blouses were actually quite nice. Not too flashy, they were classic and chic, a nice halfway point between her usual attire and the crimson dress she’d worn to the benefit.

  “You should try them on.” Mark spied fitting rooms nearby and gestured. “I’ll find you something else to try on with them.”

  She laughed. Most men hated shopping, and yet Mark looked right at home as he began rifling through the racks.

  “What?” he said, grinning crookedly.

  “I just…” She snickered and shook her head. “I’ve just never met a man who looked so comfortable shopping. Especially in the women’s section.”

  “Well, I’m not like most men, remember?” His jazzy smirk made her giggle.

  “I can see that.”

  He continued flipping through blouses, suits, and skirts. “Go on. Quit staring at me and try those on.” He waved her toward the fitting rooms.

  “Fine. Knock yourself out.” If he wanted to play her personal shopper, she wouldn’t stop him.

  She took the two blouses into the fitting room, peeled out of her shirt, and slipped into the breezy, sleeveless floral print blouse. The fabric whispered over her skin like sheer curtains over an open window. She even breathed more easily.

  When she stepped out of the fitting room, Mark was waiting nearby holding a tweed, off-white pencil skirt and matching jacket.

  “Oh, now that’s attractive.” Mark set the suit on a chair and approached, admiring the blouse as she turned and faced the mirror. “See how it tapers at your waist and flairs gently at the hips?” He stood behind her and skimmed his palms lightly around her midsection.

  Karma’s pulse skipped a beat, and she shivered. “It’s nice.” Was she referring to the blouse, his hands on her waist, or both?

  He grinned at her reflection then returned for the suit. “Here. Try this on with it. I guessed a size four.”

  He’d guessed her size in one shot. “How did you know?”

  “I know women’s bodies.”

  How was that for a loaded statement? “Did you really just say that?” She fought not to show her amusement.

  He held up his hand. “Now, wait a second. Before you go making snap judgments, what I mean is, my mom is a professional dancer, and, as her only child, I got the special honor or learning how to sew and alter costumes.” He handed her the suit. “At the time, I thought it was cruel and unusual punishment, but as I got older and began helping my parents at their dance studio, well…” A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s just say it’s good to be a heterosexual man who knows how to sew in a room full of half-naked women. I learned quickly what looks good on a woman. And, for the record, that’s why I look so at-home shopping for women’s clothes. Mom insisted I tag along on her shopping trips.”

  “I think thou doth protest too much.”

  He bit back a smile. “Just dedicated.”

  “I see.” Karma inspected the skirt and matching jacket. “And now I’m your little project, is that it?”

  He paused for a heartbeat before answering, his voice deep and sensual. “Only if you want to be.”

  Why did she get the feeling his simple statement was more like an iceberg? Only a little was evident above the surface, but the real meaning remained hidden in the words he hadn’t spoken.

  Feeling like she was being hunted, Karma disappeared into the dressing room and came out a few minutes later, wearing the suit. Mark glided up behind her like a predator.

  “Ah, now this is nice.” His hands were once again on her waist. “See how the jacket accents your figure? And how the skirt hugs your thighs and hits just above your knee, making you look classy and sexy all at once. This is what they call a power suit.”

  “Why is that?”

  His lips twisted and lifted at one corner. “Because one look at you in this suit tells every man in the room who’s really in charge, even if they do
n’t want to admit it.”

  His voice drifted into her soul and began to peel away her coveted sense of reasoning, and a slow, warm churning began to swirl low in her belly.

  “I see,” she said softly. “And what kind of shoes would you recommend for such a, um, power suit?”

  His gaze dropped to her bare feet, and a soft, pensive sound—not quite a moan—escaped his throat. His hands briefly tightened against her body. “Dark grey or black. Something that shows off your toes.” He took several deep breaths, gently leaned against her back, and rubbed his palms up her arms to her shoulders then back down to her hands. “You have beautiful feet.”

  The innuendo in his tone made a starburst of heat explode in her abdomen, low enough that it licked between her legs and down her thighs. There was something prurient and provocative in his tone…and utterly addictive.

  He remained behind her for several seconds, his fingers playing over hers as he stared at her reflection. Then he grinned sheepishly and took what appeared to be a forced step back. “I should probably let you change.” He pointed behind him, toward the racks outside the fitting room. “I’ll wait over there.” He turned and left her alone, breathless, speechless, and with warmth pooling between her legs.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, she and Mark left the mall and made their way toward Monument Circle. He carried her shopping bag, which contained her new suit, the two blouses, and a pair of black, platform, peep-toe pumps he had helped her select. He was such a gentleman. She hadn’t even asked him to carry the bag. He had simply taken it from the clerk after she’d paid, as if doing so was standard operating procedure.

  Once they reached The Circle, they stopped at a chocolate cafe and bought a small bag of milk chocolate butter toffee, then made their way back to the parking garage as they nibbled their treats.

  Being with Mark was easy, not like it usually was with handsome men. Usually, she got tongue-tied and suffered a loss of words, but there was a gracious quality about Mark. A depth of character that both put her at ease and intensified her awareness, as if every nerve ending sparked to high alert around him. Instead of overpowering her, he enlivened her.

  He spoke of the simple architecture of the city, commented on the unique brick roadway of The Circle, and remarked on how impressive Lucas Oil Stadium was. He was a big football and basketball fan, a fact he and Karma shared, and the conversation easily turned toward sports, which dominated the discussion all the way back to the car.

  He set her bag in the backseat but didn’t move to get behind the wheel. Instead, he took her hand and led her toward the western-facing side of the garage. The sun was just setting.

  “It’s a gorgeous evening, isn’t it?” he said.

  She parked beside him. “I love this time of year.” A steady, warm breeze blew from the south.

  “So do I.” He glanced down at the bustling street below.

  Rush hour was over, but there was plenty of traffic. Outdoor music played somewhere in the distance. With the Indy 500 at the end of the month, May was a big month in Indianapolis, and there were a lot of festivals and events around the city leading up to the race.

  The noise of traffic and the city was oddly soothing yet invigorating. Karma didn’t make her way downtown often. It was like a whole other world from where she had grown up in the suburbs. What would it be like to live in the city? Where would she shop for groceries? Would she miss the peacefulness afforded by quiet neighborhoods instead of apartment high-rises?

  “Where do you live in Chicago?” She glanced at his profile. He had a strong jaw and prominent chin. When he turned toward her, she noticed that it had a small dimple in the center. She hadn’t noticed that before.

  “I have an apartment downtown.” In the setting sunlight, Mark’s eyes were the most striking color. Army green that looked almost grey, with a touch of tawny brown around the pupils. His gaze burrowed in and penetrated her like a stinger, injecting her with warmth that spread through her torso and sent tingles down her arms and legs.

  She averted her gaze to catch a break from his severe intensity and the dizzying sensation he ignited with just a simple glance. “Can you see Lake Michigan from your apartment?”

  “Yes. I have a balcony that overlooks the lake.” She heard the smile in his voice. It was as if he knew why she had looked away.

  “I bet that’s nice.”

  “I like the water.”

  “Me, too.”

  It was small talk, but it was easy talk, which was all she was capable of at the moment. Even so, she felt the simplicity of their conversation was about to change.

  “So,” he said, as if on cue, “have I made up for my inappropriate behavior last Saturday?”

  She laughed nervously and looked down at the street eight stories below as a strong breeze gusted through the parking garage. “I’ve already told you…you weren’t inappropriate.”

  He moved closer and lifted his hand to her hair the way he had during dinner, only this time he didn’t take it away after tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Instead, he reached around to the back of her head and deftly plucked one of the bobby pins from her chignon. “What about now? Am I being inappropriate now?” He brazenly pulled out another pin.

  Her chignon loosened.

  She should have told him yes, he was being extremely improper. She should have made him stop and insisted that he take her home. Should have. That was her father’s voice in her head, but she couldn’t say the words. They weren’t hers, and they weren’t what she wanted. She wanted his nimble fingers in her hair, on her face, her neck, her body.

  Falling faster and deeper under his influence, she numbly shook her head as he pulled out another pin. “No, I don’t think so.”

  He grinned and stepped a little closer as his fingers gently fished for the last few pins securing her hair. “How about now?”

  Breathless, she could barely speak. “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but I just can’t seem to behave myself around you.”

  He didn’t sound sorry at all.

  “That’s okay,” she heard herself say.

  Her hair began to spill over her shoulders as he freed it. “Now, that’s better.” He tucked the handful of pins inside his pocket then combed his fingers through her hair, lifting it against the breeze. “Much better.”

  Silence engulfed them as he continued fondling her hair, and the tips of his fingers brushed against her neck in a way that she could tell was intentional. Then his hands fell to her collar, and he unfastened the next button of her blouse, his narrowed eyes sweetly chastising her for having refastened it.

  “Uh, I…” She felt obligated to explain that two buttons undone had been a little much for her.

  “Sshh.” He dressed the collar to reveal more of her neckline.

  All she could do was stand in portentous silence, waiting for what he would do next.

  “I’m glad you bought that suit,” he said a moment later.

  “Why?”

  His gaze swept down her body then back to her eyes. “I’ve wondered all week how such a striking woman could wear such a provocative dress then turn around and wear such masculine clothes.”

  Her cheeks heated, and she began to lower her gaze. Mark slid his index finger under her chin and lifted her face.

  “Make no mistake, you’re still striking. But that’s the thing. You’re too pretty for the clothes I’ve seen you wear this week. The dress was more…you. And the new suit is, too.” He paused and slightly narrowed his eyes then flashed a knowing smile. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

  It was as if he could read her mind. “I…I guess.” She knew her old clothes no longer served her. It was definitely time for a change.

  He brushed back her hair again as the breeze blew it over her face. “You know, I’ve learned a few things about you in the last few days, but especially tonight.” He smoothed his palms down her sleeves.

  “Oh?” She was totally tran
sfixed, locked into submission, eager for him to keep touching her. She shouldn’t have wanted that as badly as she did.

  He moved closer still, and she felt the heat emanate from his body into hers. “Yes. For example, I learned that you’re a very complex woman. More so than most women I’ve met. But that’s what makes you so fascinating.” He paused and let his gaze dance over her face. “I’ve learned that you don’t realize how attractive you are, but that you’re beginning to learn. That you want to be your own person and not what someone else expects.” He examined the side of her neck as he lifted her hair away from her face. “I also learned that you have passion.” His voice deepened. “Maybe not so much for the job you have, but for the job you want.” He paused and one side of his mouth lifted. “As well as for other things.”

  Heat flooded her face because she knew exactly what those “other things” were.

  He played with her collar again. “I learned that you aren’t happy with how you dress and that you want to change.” He admired his handiwork as if satisfied with her appearance. Then he pressed closer and leaned down to kiss the wisp of skin between her neck and shoulder. “I learned that you have…lovely feet.” His voice hitched as he whispered in her ear. His arm eased around her back.

  She swallowed and lifted her hands to his chest, swept away on his voice as she tilted her head back ever so slightly.

  “And that you long for excitement.” His lips brushed her skin, right below her ear. “You do long for excitement, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Why deny it? He would only know she was lying.

  The sky grew darker as the sun dipped behind a building, and the lights flickered on in the parking garage, bathing them in a milky glow.

  “You’re not used to a man touching you, kissing you…seducing you.” His hands caressed her back and the sides of her abdomen. “Are you, Karma?”

  She closed her eyes. When had she begun breathing so heavily? “N-no.”

  “But you want to be seduced. You want to know what it’s like.” He waited a heartbeat before adding, “You want me to behave inappropriately.”