Perfecting the Odds (2 page)

Christ, Finn. Get a grip. You’ve dated handfuls of hot women. She’s no just a pretty face and a hot, curvy body. And she probably has the softest skin, sweet, lickable…

Retreat.

Now.

Okay, one more mental snapshot. Just one more. Dropping his eyes slowly, he looked toward the entrance one last time. Temptation had vanished as quickly as she’d appeared. And that’s when he realized the impact of her presence. Panic hit him like a bullet through flesh.

Standing dead center i
n the middle of the poo-brown bathroom stall, Karis pinched her nose viciously.  “And I left the hospital for this shithole?” She blinked twice at the brown and grey mottled toilet bowl below her and gagged a little. Thank
god
she wasn’t in here to actually use the facilities.  She looked left and right at the profane graffiti on the metal walls. If she couldn’t be happy, maybe she should just be happy for everyone else. Hell, said Bobby L. apparently goes downtown like it’s his last meal. At least some girl has been having the time of her life.

The irony wasn’t lost on her
, though. Just an hour after she’d left the hospital–the epitome of sterility–she now stood in a room that had her holding her breath for fear that the stench would permeate her skin with deadly air-borne pathogens. Truth was, Karis got one good long look at that dance floor of dry-humping twenty-somethings and fled. Not exactly salve for her screwed-up life. Dying husband, jutting erections, and bouncing breasts. Yeah, not so much.

She let out a breath loudly, regretting it instantly on the inhale. Boy, was she
in a mood, a very bad, cynical mood. At some point in the months of Robert’s chemotherapy and surgeries, Karis rocketed from sadness to anger, now the fodder of her existence, and the only emotion she could control. The only emotion that felt …right. She gingerly nudged the stall door open with her elbow and walked toward the sink.
Don’t look down at the damn sink, Karis
–she warned herself –Don’t you
dare
look down. Instead, she stared into the mirror that was not quite a mirror, more of a reflective coating over clear plexiglass. It reminded her of those funky mirrors at amusement parks, and then of course when her face appeared a foot wider, she looked down to avoid the distortion…annnnd commence gagging. Turning away from the sink, she grabbed the travel hand sanitizer from her Coach wristlet and gave her hands a thorough de-shitifying.

“
Just give me a damn drink already” she muttered before nudging the swinging door with her hip. She stopped to inhale the fresh-ish air, and made a beeline for the bar.

***

Michael’s eyes darted around the bar area. He scanned the dance floor and spotted her girlfriend making their walk-dance toward the hoard of people gyrating to the music. Panic continued to churn in his gut. She was separated from her friend, vulnerable to the swarms of horny men. And for the time being, he chose not to acknowledge that he, too, was one of those horny bastards.

“Where the h
ell’d she go,” he yelled to Scott.

“She’s right there on the dance floor.
Damn
, look at that ass move.”

“Not the
Ass! The tall one!” Shaking his head, Scott squinted his eyes in thought. Muttering a curse, Michael hopped off his stool, vaguely hearing Scott mumble something about Michael’s needing to get laid. He rounded the last portion of the bar when he skidded to a stop, spotting her exit the ladies’ room. She straightened her blouse, took a few more deep breaths, and proceeded to slam her chest right into a significantly shorter man. Shortie’s core wobbled for a good five seconds.

How would she handle this asshole
?

The answer to that question
now became crucial to his decision to leave the bar. Was the woman as perfect as he thought she was? On one hand, he hoped the hell not. He could just fuck her a couple times to ease the burn. But then again, he almost knew she’d blow his fucking mind.  Michael walked a bit closer to the restroom hallway, just within earshot but still shadowed by the bar. Michael watched her lips carefully.

“
No thank you,” she said, trying to side step the man.

“Come on, baby. I jus
’ wanna dance. You didn’t ge’ all dolled up tonight to jus’ sit at the bar, did you? At least tell me yr’name, baby?”

She stopped abruptly and then relaxed her stance.
“Listen…what’s your name,” she asked, her lips curving subtly.

“Chad, baby.”
Shortie puffed out his chest, a pathetic gesture to compensate for his inferior stature.

“Hello, Chad. I’m
Karis.” Her hand extended, and she shook his limp grip before wiping her hand on her jeans. “I’m only telling you that so you’ll stop calling me baby. Remember, Chad, people have names for a reason. Pet names are personal, private, and your choice is inappropriate because you’ve chosen one
very
dear to me.”

“
Okay, Karis-baby,” he crooned.

She
rolled her eyes. “Easy now, Chad. You’re drunk. You smell like it, look like it, and sound like it. I know you may be a pretty nice guy when you’re sober, but I said no, and I’m in a
bitchy
mood tonight, so please--.” She tried to side step again, but he blocked her path, staggering to stay upright. Michael’s eyes shifted restlessly between them. Chad hadn’t touched her yet. If he had, Michael would have thrown his stumpy ass across the bar. Once a Marine, always a Marine. And, yes, his days were now filled with literature, essays, and lectures, but he had no qualms about beating the shit of that sorry excuse.

“Jus’ one kiss,
Karis. Yer too damn pretty t’ let go by,” Chad whined.

Karis
narrowed her eyes at him and worried her bottom lip. Her head tilted almost as if she was assessing the situation and her best tactic to remove herself from this jerkoff.
Fascinating
, Michael thought. She released her lip with a puff of air.

“
Okay, Chad, here’s the deal. First, I’m Amazonian compared to you. Tomorrow, you’ll realize that’s an insult.” Chad furrowed his brow and wobbled to balance on the floor he probably thought moved beneath him. “Second, I’m contagious. Ohhh, and it’s pretty bad.” She nodded, wrinkling her nose in disgust. He hunched a bit as she leaned a bit closer as if the next part was a secret. “And I’m not going to tell you how it can be passed to you, but you’re in a heap of shit if it’s airborne because I’ve been breathing all over you for about three minutes.” Mike laughed a little too loudly at that last insult. She shifted her eyes toward the sound but thankfully didn’t see him.

His gut was right
…and wasn’t it always. The verity of his Karis obsession was simple: her body, her gestures, and her smart mouth called to him like a beacon in his monotonous life. And who was he kidding? Witty banter weaved within hot sex on every fuck-worthy surface of his apartment would be both exciting and cathartic. Damn right. He would deal with the consequences later. Now was the time to break out nearly seventeen years of well-practiced swagger. Problem was, he couldn’t move his damn feet. Okay, so maybe she scared the shit out of him a little. She shut down Chad with a few clever flicks of her tongue. And although he was sure they could match wits, the way she carried herself and contemplated her words said,
way out of any man’s league
. But he knew one thing. His life was weaved together by a series of auspicious circumstances, some began badly, but eventually it ended okay for him. So maybe this opportunity was no different. Maybe he should accept this as an opportunity for amazing sex with an amazing woman and shut off his fucking insecurities. Besides, he was a successful thirty-three old, for godssake, in shape, well-educated, had a great job, a new house in construction in the suburbs, and enough pick-up tactics to make a horny teenage boy weep with envy. No time to puss out now.

Karis
smirked at Chad’s look of disgust. “Geez, girl, tha’s a fucking sick way t’get a guy t’go away.” He turned and stumbled toward the bar.

Michael
grinned as Karis mouthed
contagious
and then snorted. She managed to make something unfeminine sound damn cute. After a deep inhale, she smoothed her jeans and walked toward the end of the hallway. Just as he was about to approach her, she stopped and dropped her head. She dug the pads of her fingers into her temples and let out the breath she must have been holding. Finally flickering her eyes open, she swiped her finger beneath her eye.

Michael panicked. Shit, was she crying? Did he miss something Chad had said? Karis looked in Michael’s direction, staring beyond him, and he peered into her eyes, glassy from tears. That’s when he noticed the shaded circles beneath them.

T
hat look doused his throbbing dick with ice water. Something was wrong. Was she tired? Sick? Realizing she may catch him staring, he turned his head away but watched as she walked slowly toward her friends on the dance floor. More than unsettled by his new emotions, he found his seat next to Scott and began to study her.

Scott turned
on his bar stool. “You say something, Finn?”

“
No…I, uh, thought you were making your move to bend over the Ass?”
Stop fucking distracting me, McCann.

Scott
tilted his head, studying Michael’s face. Michael ignored him. “You look pale. What’s wrong?”

Micha
el waved his hand to dismiss his concern. “I’m sick of this damn place, and--” He paused. Although they partook in Marine-brotherhood banter frequently, McCann was still his best friend, so just because he showed concern didn’t mean Michael had to insult him because he was tied up in knots. “My new dissertation’s kicking my ass. I’m heading out soon.”

Scott
studied him for a few seconds longer, with an expression that said he knew Michael’s comment was bullshit. “Okay…well, stay for a minute. Watch and learn, brother. She’ll be eating from my hands--among other things—very soon.” Scott gave a shit-eating grin and swaggered up to the dance floor.

Michael
finished off his drink in a single gulp and watched intently as Karis stood closely beside Scott’s Ass. Karis moved to the music only enough to show she wasn’t standing still. Scott’s Ass watched her lovingly, sisterly-like. Karis rolled her eyes, lifted a brow in Scott’s direction, and gave a curious smile. Then the Ass froze, turned completely around, and hugged Karis, whispering something into her ear. Karis nodded toward the bar then shrugged. And then it happened; the most tempting woman he’d ever laid eyes on was now on a direct route to the vacant seat right next to him.

“What can I get ya, ma’am?” the bartender yelled over the bad 90s jam, adding zero relief to Karis’s throbbing head.

“
Vanilla vodka, if you have it, and 7-up,” Karis answered.
Ma’am. Thanks for making me feel old, you little prick.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the profile of the man seated beside her just as he smirked. Crap. She may have said her insult aloud, and a blush burned her cheeks immediately. Boy, assholes were on the prowl tonight. Chad the midget was a certified douchebag. Drunk or not, what kind of man begs for kiss? The worthless kind, that’s who, and she despised weak men, in real life, books, movies, wherever.  She was all about equal rights, but very much old school. Women should feel protected not coddled.  And if that short shit had moved once inch closer, he would have been kissing his own balls they would’ve been so fall up his throat. Karis released a heavy sigh.

“
Hello,” the man beside her said.
Ah, god, please don’t
, she begged inwardly. Sometimes she wished she was more of a bitch like Eve. Just tell everyone to fuck themselves. But instead…

“
Hello,” she replied, trying
very
hard not to look at him. Then she proceeded play the universal “leave me alone” sequence: head turned away; eyes shifted toward the dance floor; legs crossed opposite of him. But, surprise, surprise, he wasn’t taking the hint. His eyes seared her with an all-too familiar warmth. She squeezed her eyes shut and blinked a few times to squelch the tears. Robert made her feel that way…or used to. She wouldn’t be able to handle this place much longer. But the damn stranger’s eyes wouldn’t stop their perusal, and she couldn’t help but glance in his direction again.

Mercy
.

Okay, so maybe he was a little gorgeous
. And maybe he had a strong jaw covered with the sexiest beard shadow she’d ever seen. And maybe he had perfectly sculpted lips and smelled like lickable man slathered in deliciously tropical sunscreen. And
maybe
those things were doing funny things to all her neglected pink parts.

And maybe you’re a horrible wife,
her guilty conscience aptly warned.