Good Karma (12 page)

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 don’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 transfixed, 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.