Green Card by Ashlyn Chase Page B

coming back from lunch in a few minutes.”
    “Okay, sure.”
    Katia sat up. “Thanks. I need to make a phone call, anyway.” She shoved herself to her feet and slipped into her robe. “Can I use a cell phone here?”
    “As long as you’re not posing at the time, be my guest,” Ms. Tempest said.
    Katia hurried around to the other side of the partition as the instructor left the room. Mason admired his work and put a few finishing touches on it until hunger pangs signalled that he’d missed lunch. Just as he was about to leave the room, he detected soft crying and sniffling coming from behind the partition.
    Uh oh. Should he give her privacy and fill his stomach or check on her in case something was terribly wrong? He needed to talk to her about scheduling a private session anyway. That would serve as a decent excuse for intruding.
    He tried to act casual as he sauntered around the partition. “Katia? Are you still on the phone?”
    Seated on the floor, dark waves covering her face, she dropped her gaze to the floor and shook her head.
    “Is everything all right?”
    After a deep breath, she said, “No. But don’t worry about me.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
    Mason strode to the sink, grabbed a paper towel and took it to her. “What happened?”
    “N—nothing.”
    He parked himself beside her on the floor and said, “Come on. Tell me about it. I may be a guy, but I’m an artist so I can be sensitive—sometimes.”
    “Do you still want me to pose for you?”
    “Very much.”
    “Then, we’d better do it soon. I might be pregnant.”
    The disclosure silenced him. He had already noted the lack of a wedding ring.
    “I sat in the waiting room all morning at the free clinic, and they couldn’t see me. Now, I have to go back and wait again since they don’t take appointments.”
    Mason exhaled a long breath. Should he get involved? What could he do? He placed an arm around her, and she surprised him by resting her head on his shoulder. She leant against him in silence for several moments. It was none of his business. Perhaps the only thing he could do was sacrifice his lunch time and offer some sympathy.
     
    * * * *
     
    Katia had given him the address of the restaurant in which she worked. It happened to be close to his apartment so he strolled over the following night. Their food must be awfully popular because the place was packed. It certainly smelled good.
    She hurried from a table to the ordering window, babbled something in another language so fast he didn’t understand a word, then rushed to the soda machine behind the counter. Mason leant on the counter and called, “Katia.”
    Startled, she sloshed soda onto the floor and almost dropped the glass. He hadn’t even spoken her name especially loud. “Wow, you’re jumpy.”
    “I’m sorry. I—I was unprepared. I mean, surprised.”
    He straddled a stool and smiled with concern. “Well, you should try to relax. Being that high strung can’t be good for the baby.”
    Her brown eyes widened and resembled root beer lifesavers floating in milk. She shushed him. Leaning over the counter, she whispered frantically, “No one is to know. Especially here.” Glancing back over her shoulder before she continued, she said, “My uncle would kill me.”
    “Okay, I won’t say a word. I just wanted to know what time you get off work tonight.”
    “Tonight? Not until eleven.”
    “Is that too late to come up to my place and pose for me?”
    Again she glanced over her shoulder. “I’d really like to. I need the money, badly, but I don’t know what to tell my uncle.”
    Mason shrugged. “Can’t you just tell him the truth?”
    A look of horror crossed her face. “Tell him that I’m going to a strange man’s apartment to take off my clothes for him? He’d murder me.”
    “Not really.”
    “Well, he’d hit me for sure…”
    At that moment, a rotund, dark, hairy man appeared in the doorway with his hands on his hips.