Good Karma Read Online Free Page A

had only been a lie. He
was no better now than he had been then. Damn her! Damn her to hell
for doing this to him!
    Seeing Carol pregnant had destroyed him all
over again.

 
    Chapter 3
    A ship in
a harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.
    -Grace Hopper
     
    Karma fidgeted on the high seat at the blackjack
table and tugged the hem of her dress. She felt like an
underdressed beacon, and, as in the ballroom earlier, men eyed her
with barely veiled precision, as if they were trying to decide how
best to get her out of her dress.
    She picked up one of the round, plastic chips
from her dwindling pile and worried the tip of her manicured nail
in the grooves around the edge. Daniel had bought her five hundred
dollars’ worth of chips—the lifetime debt continued to mount—and
had joined her at blackjack for a while before venturing off to
play poker. He was a virtuoso at Texas Hold’em while Karma’s
knowledge of poker extended to knowing that a deck of cards was
involved. Blackjack, on the other hand, she could manage. She had
to be able to count to twenty-one, and that was about as much as
she needed to know.
    The dealer dealt her a pair of cards.
Fourteen. She tapped the table for a hit. She was dealt an eight.
Bust. Her stack of chips grew even smaller. She was losing more
than she was winning, but it was all play money, anyway. No one
would get rich in this casino. Chips were bought with money, which
went to the charity, and winnings were cashed in for tickets to
enter into the drawings for the prizes, one of which was a
Caribbean cruise for two on a semi-private, luxury yacht.
    Wouldn’t it be something if she won that?
    But if she did, who would she take with her?
She would probably just give the tickets to Daniel and Zach. Maybe
that would be enough to ease her conscience over how much Daniel
had bankrolled for her to come tonight.
     
    * * *
     
    Mark entered the Red Lacquer Ballroom, a
glass of scotch in his hand. The evening had graduated from
champagne to something stronger, despite his gastrointestinal
overload an hour ago.
    After losing control over his emotions—and
his dinner—he had pulled himself together, washed up, rinsed out
his mouth, changed his shirt, and donned his jacket and tie once
more to continue his evening. Avoiding Carol was of utmost
importance, though, which had led him to the makeshift casino.
Carol wouldn’t dream of gambling and would stay firmly rooted in
the main ballroom.
    If only Abby had waited a few more days to
break up with him, she would have been on his arm tonight. Her
presence would have offered a buffer against Carol’s mental
onslaught, and his feelings of vulnerability and exposure might not
have surfaced. Being alone was like announcing to Carol that he
hadn’t moved on, which he hadn’t, but he didn’t want to admit
that…to her, himself, or anyone.
    He killed the drink he had been nursing for the last
half hour and fought to clear his head as he set his empty glass on
the bar. “Scotch,” he told the bartender. “Double.” He scanned the
room. He didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not tonight. But he
wasn’t one for casual flings and one-night stands, so where did
that leave him?
    Rob’s words came back to haunt him. There’s nothing stopping you from having a wild night with one
of these fine ladies. That was Rob, not him, but right now, the
temptation to let go of his control was almost overwhelming. He was
beyond frayed, and the idea of female companionship appealed to him
more than usual now that Carol had shocked his system.
    He really needed to get his shit together.
Come to his senses. Put aside this idea of finding a suitable woman
and losing his loneliness inside an evening of unbridled passion.
That wouldn’t do anyone any good, and he knew himself well enough
to know if he did that, he would just feel worse in the morning.
Maybe he should just leave before he did something stupid. Head
home…call it a night…throw in