Good Karma (8 page)

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.