Full Circle (54 page)

It seemed the only thing left to do was to
find a dress, something Mark’s mom insisted on helping with.

Which was why Karma, Lisa, Daniel, and Zach
had piled in to Zach’s Escalade Friday afternoon and trekked up to
Chicago.

Joined by Giada, Holly, and Daniel’s sister
Sonya, who lived just outside Chicago, on Saturday morning, they
drove to a bridal store named Jasmine west of the city. Jasmine was
a high-end salon/boutique with what felt like miles of white satin
and a section for bridesmaids dresses that was bigger than a small
country, where the dresses were organized and grouped by the colors
of the rainbow. Jasmine saw clients by appointment only, but Giada
was friends with the owner, so she’d been able to get them in on
short notice.

Karma had been shopping and trying on dresses
for two hours when she turned around in dress number six and stared
at her reflection in the three-way fitting room mirror.

Exhale.

Two years ago, on the night she met Mark,
she’d felt like Cinderella. Now she looked like her.

“Let’s go show your friends and family,” the
attendant said, unable to hide her smile.

Forcing herself to look away from the mirror,
she followed the attendant from the massive fitting room, out to
the couches where everyone was sitting around a circular riser
placed in front of another tri-fold mirror.

The gasps that rose from the group as she
swept the long, flowing skirt around the corner confirmed she’d
found her wedding dress.

She took her place on the platform, turned a
slow three sixty, then lifted her arms.

“What do you think?

“It’s . . .” Lisa’s mouth hung
open.

“Perfect.” Daniel stepped onto the raised
platform and pulled back her hair. “You look like a princess.”

The strapless sweetheart bodice hugged her
torso over a full skirt that fell around her legs like an
Elizabethan gown. The shell was made of silky satin covered with a
layer of shimmering tulle.

From a distance, the color appeared ivory,
but looking closer, you could tell it was actually an extremely
pale peach, with just a hint of rose. Beaded, ivory lace overlaid
the bodice and cascaded in decorative tails over the top of the
skirt. The same lace extended about a foot-and-a-half from the hem,
dispersing to appear like a filigreed flower garden all around the
bottom of the dress.

“It’s exquisite, dear,” Giada said, stepping
behind her and placing a simple, jeweled tiara on her head.

Her gaze shifted to her reflection. “I love
it.”

“All we need is a strand of pearls, some
matching earrings . . .” Giada’s slender fingers
grazed her neck and earlobes. “And an ivory veil. Then you’ll be
perfect.”

When all the fussing was done and the accent
pieces chosen, Jasmine’s owner gathered her dress with those of the
bridesmaids and promised to oversee all the alterations and
adjustments herself. Then they grabbed a late lunch downtown,
thoroughly exhausted but thrilled to have the most important part
of any wedding taken care of.

* * *

Mark sat on the couch, his feet propped on the
coffee table, his laptop in his lap as he scrolled through his
e-mail. The sun had set an hour ago, and the TV was tuned to some
extreme sports competition, the volume low.

With Karma in Chicago, the house was quiet.
Too quiet. He liked hearing the gentle patter of her bare feet
across the hardwood entryway. Loved the sound of her laughter and
her voice. She wasn’t overly talkative like some women. She enjoyed
the silent spaces as much as he did, and sometimes just sitting
together to watch a movie was more intimate than making love.

He’d never been so comfortable with a woman,
which was just one more shred of evidence reinforcing his belief
they’d been created for one another, to reach this moment and
embark on a journey as a unified force rather than two separate
elements simply sharing space. Any couple could live together, but
when you really loved someone to your marrow, just living together
wasn’t enough. You wanted that piece of paper that said you were
legally bound to one another under God and in front of
witnesses.

That’s how Mark felt about Karma, and now
that he’d finally shed the painful leftovers from his past, he
couldn’t marry her fast enough. If only they’d agreed to visiting a
Justice of the Peace the day after his return from Chicago. They
could have gotten married right away then held a more public
ceremony for friends and family. If he’d suggested it, he was sure
Karma would have agreed, but now they were fully committed to the
end of June. In just a little more than six weeks, he would finally
have everything he’d ever wanted.

The garage door whirred. Ah, finally, his
lovely bride-to-be was home.

A couple minutes later, she appeared carrying
a handful of shopping bags she dropped by the foot of the
stairs.

“Well?” he asked expectantly, glancing over
the back of the couch as she approached. Her hair was pulled in a
high ponytail, making her luminescent eyes pop against her fair
skin.

“I’m wiped.” She joined him on the couch and
settled her cheek on his shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head. She smelled
faintly of the vanilla body lotion he’d bought her a couple months
ago.

“Does this mean you found your dress?”

She smiled and scrunched closer as she slid
her arms around his waist. “Yes.”

“And . . . ?”

“It’s amaaaaazing.”

“I saw the charge come through on my account.
That must be some dress.”

She laughed. “You’re not having second
thoughts about giving me
carte blanche
with your credit
card, are you?”

He chuckled, kissed her hair again, then
said, “I think I can afford it.”

“It’ll be worth it when you see the
dress.”

“You’re that confident I’ll like it?”

She nodded. “It will definitely take your
breath away. It did mine.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait to see it then.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as he
returned to his e-mail.

The quiet comfort was nice. Easy. He liked
her cuddled against him like this. In a way that didn’t demand his
attention but resonated with relaxed contentment. Six months ago,
things had been so different. They’d been preparing to move in
together, and she’d been so worried she wouldn’t fit into his
world, worried he would take over everything and not let her pay
her own way.

He smiled, clicking through another e-mail as
he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Remember when you
found out about my money? Remember how you reacted?”

Her shoulders curled inward as she burrowed
shyly against him and giggled. “Yes.”

“Most women would have had dollar signs
dancing in their eyes, but not you.” He chuckled as she snuggled
closer and hid her face. How adorable. “You were more worried about
fitting in, and you were intent on making sure you would never have
to rely on my money.” He closed his laptop and set it beside him.
“Do you still feel that way?”

She lifted her head and shrugged, her face
pink, her mouth curved into an endearing smile. “Sometimes things
still seem a bit surreal, but for the most part, I’ve adjusted,
don’t you think?”

“Yes, you have.” He kissed the tip of her
nose. “Money isn’t everything, Karma. I mean, sure, I like nice
things, and I can afford them. But I’ve never wanted to spend my
money on things like extravagant vacations and houses and tubs full
of diamonds until I met you.”

She laughed. “Tubs full of diamonds? Really?”
She glanced toward the stairs. “Maybe I should head upstairs and
take a bath then.”

He chuckled and wrapped his forearm around
her thigh. “Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration.”

“Damn. I was really looking forward to that
bath.” She snapped her fingers then sobered. “But seriously, are
you saying I’m bad for your inheritance?”

He cocked his head to the side and shook it.
“On the contrary. You’re good for my desire to live.”

Her elegant brows bunched together, creasing
her forehead as her pretty lips twisted into a dubious grin. “What
do you mean?”

“What I mean is that spending money on myself
isn’t nearly as fun as spending it on you. On us. On things like
those extravagant vacations. And on big, flamboyant weddings.” He
emphasized the last with a sly turn of his head and an arched
eyebrow.

“And yachts and private jets and villas.” She
waved her arm in an arc toward the ceiling. “And a gigantic home
big enough for an entire tribe?”

An entire tribe. He liked the sound of that.
He wanted kids. At least three. Three was a good number.

He swept her into his arms, kissing her
cheek. “Mmm, a tribe? Is that a hint?”

He could tell by the way she briefly frowned
then grinned knowingly a second later that she hadn’t intended it
to be, but that her mind was now working over the idea. “Do you
want it to be?”

“Definitely.” He dipped his head down,
forcing hers to the side so he could nuzzle her neck.

* * *

She giggled as he pushed her to her back and rolled
her shirt up, exposing her stomach as he bent over her.

“Mark!” She squealed and squirmed her way out
of his grasp then stood before he could nibble her torso.

It had been a long day and a long drive back
to Indy. She hadn’t been joking when she’d said she wanted to take
a bath. She desperately needed to clean up after sweating in and
out of wedding dresses all afternoon. And she needed food. The late
lunch they’d grabbed in Chicago had ceased filling her belly a
while ago.

But damn, he looked good with that sexy smirk
on his face.

He sighed and settled dejectedly against the
back of the couch, his eyes twinkling in a way that told her he
wanted nothing more than to spend the next hour carnally welcoming
her home.

“I really do need a shower,” she said,
bending forward until her face was only inches from his. “And I’m
hungry.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’m hungry,
too. And I’ve missed you.”

With her hands pressed against the plush
cushion on either side of his hips, she pushed forward and pecked
him on the mouth. “Why do I feel like we’re talking about two
different kinds of hungry here?”

His hooded eyes reminded her of smoke. And
where there was smoke, fire wasn’t far away. “Because you know me
so well.”

She let out an amused puff of breath. “I do,
and I’ve missed you, too, but I feel dirty.”

“Mmm, but I like it when you’re dirty.” He
skimmed his palms up the outside of her arms.

She shook her head. “Once again, I think
we’re talking about two different definitions here, honey.” She
pecked his lips again, lingering for a long moment before pulling
away and whispering, “I’m referring to the literal kind of dirty,
and I’d feel a lot more comfortable showering before you put your
mouth all over me.”

One of his eyebrows arched as he made a noise
deep in his throat that expressed his interest. “I do like the
sound of having my mouth all over you.” He curled his fingers
around her triceps and gave he a gentle tug until his lips brushed
hers. “Go ahead and get cleaned up,” he whispered. “I’ll make you
something to eat. And then that whole mouth-all-over-you thing?
Yeah, that’s so going to happen.”

Warmth kicked up inside her belly from the
intensity in his eyes. She licked her lips then licked his. “I’ll
hurry.”

He shook his head. “Huh-uh. Take your time.
I’ll make it worth your wait.”

“What about
your
wait?”

“Oh, I’ll make it worth my wait, too. Don’t
you worry.” He reached around and gave her rump a gentle slap. “Now
go.”

She gave him one last kiss then pulled away,
darting toward the stairs with a glance over her shoulder as he
pulled himself off the couch and blazed her with one of his
trademark sexy stares, head tipped forward, the corners of his
mouth curled upward, shadows darkening his eyes under his heavy
brow.

It was
The Look
only better. A look
that said “I’m going to fuck you so hard when you get back you
won’t be able to remember your name.” And it nearly made her
dismiss the idea of a shower just so she could jump on and forget
her name now.

Instead, she forced herself to turn around
and head up the stairs. The sooner she showered, the sooner she
could experience the force of nature known as Mark Strong.

Besides, a little planning for what was to
come couldn’t hurt.

So much for her lectures on spontaneity.

Thirty minutes later, with her hair still
damp on the ends after a cursory blow-dry, she leaned forward at
her vanity table and dabbed on some strawberry-flavored lip gloss.
It was a junior high thing to do, but she didn’t care. She loved
how the gloss made her lips shimmer, and Mark had mentioned once
that he liked when she wore it. He’d said that it reminded him of
when he kissed her after feeding her strawberries.

She set the tube of lip gloss on her vanity,
fluffed her hair, and stood. She’d decided to wear one of the
kaftans she often wore when she was lounging around the house. It
was short, flowing, and sheer. The pattern was mostly light grey
with abstract, symmetrical black lines running through it. A black
border lined the side hems, which hit just above the knee, while
the shorter front and back hems reached just past her hips, barely
covering her white panties. Her matching bra was clearly evident
through the sheer, billowy fabric.

All the better to seduce Mark with.

Barefoot, she descended the stairs, the
kaftan breezing around her body, caressing her skin with luxurious
softness.

Mark had turned off the TV, and slow, sultry
mood music piped through the home’s first-floor sound system. There
was a definite Latin flavor to the beat, and it filled her mind
with images of humid nights, sweat-soaked skin, and bodies pressed
together in the darkness.