Karma Read Free Page B

waitresses left to dispense the new round of drinks, she returned
to Mr. Chevalier. "What would you like to talk to me about, Sir?"
    "You."
    Marcy
curbed her immediate impulse to take a step backwards. Crap. I knew it! He's
going to ask me out.
    "Do
not be troubled, Mademoiselle ," he said calmly. "My intentions
are honorable, and if I seem a bit eccentric?" He held his hands palms up,
a capricious gesture. "What does it matter?"
    "Okay,
my eccentric, French friend," Marcy said raising a determined eyebrow.
"But I don’t intend to talk about myself."
    "This
is of no importance for I will speak about you. Did you know that with some
I can tell the fortune? I am observant, oui , particularly with women.
This is a little gift from the bon Dieu, comprenez vo us ?" he said with a
wry smile.
    "Oh?"
    " Mais,
oui, " he said complacently. "Shall I tell you what I see when I
look at you?"
    Shit, Marcy thought with the hardened cynicism that came from experience. This
sounds like the start of a really bad pick up line. I can just hear it now,
"Hey baby! I'm psychic and can see the future. I'm lying on top of you and
you're screaming my name."
    What
was he after? The appealing Frenchman didn't give off a single sleazy vibe so maybe
he had some other objective than picking her up. But what could it be?
    Marcy
had to admit that she liked him. There was something endearing about the way he
carried himself and the way he spoke to her with absolute respect… not to
mention that mischievous smile. Except her taste in men was questionable,
judging by her ex. But he had paid her ninety-three dollars for a conversation.
The least she could do was humor him.
    Should
she let him tell her what he saw when he looked at her? Marcy shrugged.
"Sure, why not?" she said.
    "You
are physically very tired. This is perhaps two shifts, one after another that
you are working?"
    She
nodded and grinned. "I look that bad, do I?"
    With
an impassive face he gave another eloquent shrug. Marcy laughed. What man would
admit that a woman didn't quite look her best? But he was right, she was tired.
She was pretty well always tired. Some nights it was all she could do just to have
a shower and crawl into bed.
    "Well,
anyway you're right about that," Marcy said. "I'm working a
double."
    "You
are a mother?"
    She
nodded her affirmative once more, and he gave a triumphant chuckle.
    "I
can always tell this," he explained, gesturing toward her with one elegant
hand. "There is emotional maturity, and subtle bodily changes such as the
more generous hips. Motherhood is a time of life when a woman is at her best - such
is the joy and gift of children. You have perhaps only one child?"
    Marcy
frowned, astonished by this lucky deduction. "A daughter," she
admitted.
    That
reference to the size of her hips should have offended her. The truth was that
since having Katie she was a bit "generous" all over. Like many
women, Marcy dieted off and on regularly, just to be able to continue to fit
into her clothes.
    She
wondered about her reaction to the Frenchman, aware that she had become
mesmerized by the charismatic fellow. He had a presence . His voice was
soothing, yet compelling. His tone was confident. Marcy trusted him. Something
about him made her feel safe, which was nuts of course, because he had to be
crazy to talk to her the way he did. Yet how did he know all those things about
her? Was she that transparent?"
    "Divorced?"
he asked.
    "Yes,"
she said, and the gentleman laughed joyously at having guessed correctly once
more.
    "You're
quite the Sherlock, Mr. Chevalier. But without a wedding ring and a child there
was a high probability of divorce. Still, you're very good at this game aren't
you?"
    He
gave her a boyish grin, "Me? Oui, I am very clever," he said
without an ounce of humility. Marcy burst out laughing, wiping her eyes with
the back of her hand. This mischievous fellow was lighthearted fun. She hadn’t
enjoyed talking to anyone this much for some time.
    Mr.
Chevalier