Go for it now. The future is promised to no one.
-Wayne Dyer
Karma was everything Mark liked in a woman. Innocent. Sweet. Shy.
The moment he touched her and wrapped his arm around her slender waist, a spark had ignited. One that persisted and intensified the longer they danced. She smelled of wild flowers and fresh undertones, like petals floating down a mountain stream. And her skin. It was so smooth, so pristine. She really could be a model if she wanted, but he had only been joking when he asked if she was. He had already known she wasn’t.
Why had she lied about that?
Rather than make him angry, the deception deepened his curiosity.
“How about that drink?” he said when the song ended.
“Even though you won the wager?” Purity, as well as curious desire, shone from her luminous eyes. From the way she looked at him and tried to hold herself the way a worldly woman would—operative word being tried—Mark got the feeling it wasn’t just her outfit and all the attention she wasn’t used to, but men showing their interest, as well.
“Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t both get what we want.” He guided her from the dance floor, more intrigued by the second. Who was this splendid, naïve butterfly who seemed both eager and terrified to open her wings?
At the bar, he ordered another scotch on the rocks and champagne for her.
“Have you seen the exhibits?” He took her hand and scanned the room. Carol was nowhere to be seen, but the way Karma’s hand fit so nicely in his, he didn’t care. He studied their connection. Her French manicure gleamed in the soft lights, and her warm hand offered security.
Strange that she would make him feel safe. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
“No, I haven’t.” Her delicate fingers squeezed his.
He nodded in the direction of the exhibit hall. “Then let me give you the tour.”
* * *
Karma felt like she’d stepped into a whirlwind and been carried off to Oz.
Mark knew his way around. Clearly, he was more deeply connected to this charity event than as a mere philanthropist. He knew the names of the artists, musicians, and dancers. In fact, he knew Sonya, a snippet of knowledge Karma didn’t reveal they shared.
Maybe she was being selfish, but something about sharing him with the normalcy of her life felt wrong. What she had with Mark was a fantasy, and fantasies weren’t meant to be shared with the real world. They were surreal, an illusion, private. Perfect. And that’s how she wanted to keep him.
Karma followed him from one display to the next, listened to him tell a personal story or provide an odd fact or two about the artists, watched his face light with a charming smile as he recalled a funny anecdote. Other guests stopped him periodically to say hello. Everyone seemed to know him. He always introduced her then smoothly moved them along as if working toward a destination.
After thirty minutes, he wound them out of the exhibit hall and back toward the casino room.
“How do you know all these people?” she asked. Daniel still played poker at the corner table across the room, oblivious to her wanderings with the enigmatic, yet remarkable Mr. Strong.
At a high-top cocktail table tucked in the shadows, Mark leaned on his elbow and faced her. “I grew up around them. I’ve known some of them since I was six years old.” He traced his fingers down the short sleeve of her dress and stepped a little closer.
A shiver raced down her spine and she lifted her glass for a drink before she realized it was empty.
Mark didn’t seem to notice. “Have you ever been to Vegas?” His gravelly voice stroked her senses.
“No.” She imagined this was how the sheep felt right before the wolf attacked. “Why?”
“Your dress reminds me of a club called LAX inside the Luxor.” His fingers tugged gently at the hem of her short sleeve before he swept his hand to the small of her back.
“How so?”
He grinned and glanced down at her dress. “Like LAX, your dress is very red.” He drew his gaze back to her face and stared at her mouth for a heartbeat. Then, without warning, he tilted his head to hers and kissed her.
Karma’s knees almost gave out. His strong lips and the way the tip of his tongue teased hers turned her legs to Jell-O, and she had to grip the lapels of his jacket to keep herself upright. He seemed to instinctively read her reaction and pulled her closer, steadying her with his body.
With a strained exhale, he broke away, circled the room with his gaze as if making sure no one was near enough to steal her away, then dragged her from the table and into the shadowy corner. Her back hit the wall. Then, with even more urgency, his mouth found hers again, and a quiet moan broke in the back of her throat as her knees threatened to buckle once more.
Behind her was the wall. In front of her was a different kind of barrier. One that was just as solid and pulsed with fiery heat. She was trapped, but in no way did she want to break free. Let her remain confined.
His body pressed against hers as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and her right hand found the back of his neck. Her fingertips dipped into his short, thick hair.
She had never been kissed like this. Never with such passion and yearning.
“Come to my room.” He spoke fiercely against her mouth, and his dark eyes blazed into hers. “It’s quieter.”
She stared into his eyes, which radiated the same fire she felt deep in her core. For a long, breathless moment, she got lost in their green-grey depths. “Okay.” Under his heated influence, it was the only answer she could come up with.
He wrapped his hand around hers and led her back into the hall. Her legs were still so wobbly that she almost tripped over her own feet as she followed him to the elevator. Damn these high-heeled shoes. They didn’t help.
Sexual tension spiked the air, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. What was she doing? After that kiss, what did she think would happen once she got inside his room? Just a little quiet conversation?
She’d always been taught not to be reckless, not to go to rooms with strange men, to play it safe. Until now, that’s exactly what she’d done. She had always taken the safe route, never the risky one. Mark was risky. Going to his room was risky. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself. Tonight, she wanted the risk. She wanted to lay down a five-hundred-dollar bet on Mark Strong and spend a few brief hours savoring the winnings. Tomorrow, back at home, after the glass slipper broke forever, she could return to the status quo, but not now, not as Mark swept her into the elevator, into his arms, and weakened her knees with another searing kiss that short-circuited her thoughts and sent static through her veins as the doors whispered closed.
As the elevator started its upward journey, to a destination fraught with uncertainty and the promise of ending her six-year sexual drought, Karma felt her heart slip further out of her protective grasp as Mark’s masterful lips whisked her away from reality.
She was fully immersed in the fantasy.
* * *
Mark couldn’t get enough of this extraordinary woman. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but the lighting had lit her face in just such a way, and her full, pretty lips had been too inviting. Before he could stop himself, his mouth had met hers, and their kiss had been glorious.
She tasted of champagne, and the way she trembled against him and clung to his jacket so she didn’t collapse in a weak-kneed heap expressed all Mark needed to know about her inexperience. Such a stunning woman, wearing a stunning dress, who could capture every eye in the room, and yet Mark would bet every dollar in his bank account that she hadn’t had more than two lovers, maybe not even more than one. She had certainly never been kissed like this.
The elevator doors opened. With his mouth still locked to hers, he practically lifted her off the floor and carried her into the hallway. He had to know her secrets and understand her duality. How could she look the way she did and still be so innocent? And why, if she was so innocent, had she come upstairs? More importantly, why was he allowing it?
He fumbled for his key, unlocked the door, spun her inside, and kicked the door closed.
Why was he doing this? This wasn’t how he handled himself, and it wasn’t how he handled women, especially women as precious as Karma. And she was precious. Everything about her except her wardrobe cried that she wasn’t this kind of woman. The same way he wasn’t this kind of man. She deserved better than to be treated like some random one-nighter, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop and be the gentleman he had taught himself to be in the last six years.
He pressed her against the wall, drank her in, devoured her lips, and slid his tongue over hers.
He unbuttoned his tuxedo. Her hands slid inside, and her nails scratched his chest as her fingers curled against his shirt, making him groan as he dropped the jacket to the floor.
Karma eased his ache and abolished life’s bitterness. Something about her called to his basic, primitive need for connection, and he was drawn in as if by gravity, unable to pull away. Parts of him that had been cold for so long finally warmed.
He skimmed his hand up the front of her dress. He wanted to lose himself in her virtue, revel in her purity, and forget how horribly the night had started, as well as the loneliness of the last six years.
But as his palm swept under the slight swell of her breast, her breath hitched, and she froze.
Jolted from the intoxicating moment, he pulled back and looked down into her suddenly lucid eyes. The innocence was still there, but her fearless spirit was gone, replaced by what looked like panic…or perhaps dread.
Oh God, what had he done? How had he let this happen?
In a blink, their magical evening blew away like vapor. She looked like a scared rabbit as she slowly released his shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest as if to shield herself, but could he blame her? He should have known better than to take her to his room, to move so fast. He was in no frame of mind to be taking up with a woman tonight, anyway. Damn Rob for putting the idea in his head in the first place.
He blinked, and the last of the enchanted haze cleared.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…uh…” But really, what could he say? The damage was done. He had become the very thing he had sworn he would never be.
Glancing toward the windows beyond the bed, he took a deep breath and felt clarity rocket back to his senses. Like a selfish pig, he had brought Karma to his room to rid himself of the loneliness and sorrow of the past twenty-four hours. His breakup with Abby. Learning that Carol was pregnant. The reminder that the life he should have had now belonged to someone else. He had been ready to use Karma to help him forget the destitution of his life. For what? All he would have gained by taking advantage of her was a stack of lies, to awaken tomorrow and still be the same pathetic, lonely man he had been two hours ago. Sleeping with her wouldn’t have fixed anything.
What kind of self-centered asshole did that? Used such a sweet, delightful woman as a means to an end? This certainly wasn’t the type of man he had aspired to be. If she hadn’t stopped him, he would have embodied all that he had promised not to become.
“I…I’m sorry,” he said again. The guilt was almost crippling.
“I…” She blinked rapidly and glanced toward the door. “I have to go.” She pushed past him and skittered out of his room.
The door clicked shut behind her, and he fell against the wall, eyes closed. He blew out a heavy sigh. Damn, he really needed to figure his shit out. Maybe, if given enough time and space—from Carol, from Abby…from Antonio—he would remember who he was and be okay again. Yeah, right. It had already been six years, and he was no closer to being okay than he had been the day his world had turned upside down.
After almost a full minute, he sighed, smoothed his hands down his face, and bent to retrieve his jacket from the floor. Then he trudged toward the bed.
Alone.
But with the taste of Karma’s champagne kisses still on his lips and her fresh, floral scent still in his nose.
If only his life weren’t such a mess.
He had really liked this one. Something about Karma had been different.
But now she was gone, and maybe it was better that way. He was in no position to start another relationship when he would be gone for the next four to six months on business.
With a sigh, he sat on the bed and stared out the window.
Yes, it was better that she had left.
Now if he could just make himself believe that.