Lucky Streak (11 page)

Climaxing.

Milking Mike's body so she could prolong the exquisite sensations, never wanting them to end. And they didn't. Her orgasm seemed to go on and on until he collapsed on top of her. Even then, she was able to wring one last wave of pleasure from her body before his breathing evened out.

Finally he rolled off her.

By the time she caught her breath and opened her eyes, he'd returned from the bathroom and climbed back into bed.

“You're something else,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

He no longer seemed to fight their closeness and she snuggled in beside him, wanting this connection as much, if not more, than she'd wanted sex.

“So how
was
your night?” she asked.

“Pretty routine.” His hand brushed the back of her hair.

She liked the feeling.

“You never did tell me why you decided to become a cop.” Amber was fascinated by this man she'd married.

He shrugged. “I never really thought about why.”

Amber laughed. “Liar. I have a feeling you think most things through.”

He wondered how she knew him so well. “I wanted a career that made sense, something that had rules, where things were black and white.”

Amber swallowed hard. “Why?” she asked, wishing he'd confide in her. Trust her.

For a few painful seconds, silence created a cavern between them. Until he finally spoke. “Because things at home were anything but stable.”

Thank you,
she said to herself, grateful he'd opened up. “I understand.”

He cleared his throat. “You were out cold by the time I got home,” he said, changing the subject.

She laughed. “Yeah, I made your life pretty easy. You didn't have to come home and deal with your wife.”

“And you made sure I didn't have to deal with you first thing this morning, either.”

She glanced at him.

His hot gaze conveyed pure sexual heat, but clear understanding, as well.

Cornered, Amber thought. She'd hoped to distract him with sex. Keep him happy and he wouldn't think about things like divorce.

“Well, I think you dealt with me pretty well,” she said coyly. The man did know how to satisfy her.

“Very funny.” But his arms around her squeezed tighter.

So far, at least, he wasn't letting her go. “I called to check on your father last night,” she said, hoping she wasn't about to destroy the peace between them.

He groaned. “You didn't.”

“I did.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “He'd asked us to call and I didn't know if you were too busy, so I did. I tried the number in your phone book and it had been disconnected. So I tried the other number you had listed and got his cell. Did you know he disconnected his home phone?”

“I knew. He has some crazy notion about spirits traveling through the phone lines.”

Amber disagreed. “Actually I think he's just looking for attention.”

“Excuse me?” Mike stiffened at her suggestion and she patted his chest to calm him.

The warmth of his skin nearly distracted her into picking up where she'd started this morning. But she needed to bond with him outside of the bedroom. They needed to talk about things that were important to them both and he'd begun bridging the distance by admitting how hard his childhood had been. She
was merely drawing some deeper conclusions, things someone close to the situation wouldn't be able to see as easily.

“Your father has been alone for so long, he thinks that's the way it has to be. But the crazy things he's doing to your cousin Derek and his wife, and cutting off his landline…” Amber drew a deep breath. “It looks like a cry for attention. I don't think he really believes in voodoo.”

“And the curse? Are you telling me he suddenly thinks it doesn't exist?”

She let out a sigh. “No, after talking to him, hearing his concern about you not falling in love, I can tell the curse is real to him.”

“Just not the other things, like voodoo?”

She shrugged. “I'm not entirely sure. But he kept me on the phone for an hour last night, asking a lot of questions interspersed with long silences that told me he didn't want to hang up or be alone.” She paused, then asked, “Did you ever get yourself into a situation you couldn't undo, no matter how much you wanted to?”

“Well…”

She nudged him in the side with her elbow. “I do not mean our marriage. I think you like being with me, no matter how much you're fighting it.”

He didn't immediately argue the point, giving her a real flicker of hope.

“I'm talking about backing yourself into a corner
like your father has done by isolating himself,” Amber clarified.

Mike cleared his throat. “It's more than isolation. My father hasn't spoken to my Uncle Thomas in over thirty years. He blames the curse, but he's willingly retreated behind walls for years.”

Amber heard his voice crack. Her heart in her throat, she rolled over and stroked his cheek. “I believe he's lonely. I think he does the crazy things he does because it's the only way people notice him.”

“And you know this from a quick meeting and an hour phone call?”

She smiled. “I know this because I'm good at reading people. It's what I do—I mean, what I did for a living for years.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Keep talking. I want to know more about you. Like what kind of partner this Marshall was to you, why you ended your association, anything and everything about you,” he said.

He was as interested in knowing her as she wanted to understand him, but unlike Amber, Mike's curiosity ran deeper. She'd told him why she'd left him in Vegas, but her answers only scratched the surface. He clearly wanted to understand why she'd associate with Marshall in the first place, why she was being followed,
what she was still hiding from him.

And she wasn't ready to shine the light of day on those things just yet. So she'd tell him about the
areas of her life she was proud of, the parts she enjoyed, those she wanted him to know because he'd get an insight into who Amber Rose…Amber Corwin…really was.

She drew a deep breath and began. “I used to be a concierge in L.A. and I loved it. I worked at the Crown Chandler in Beverly Hills and people skills are my forte. I have a photographic memory and it really helped in my line of work. Remembering names and faces is a crucial part of the job, but it was never a problem for me. I met A-list celebrities and made it a point to accommodate their every wish. I was the master,” she said, remembering.

“What happened? You said you
used
to be a concierge. Why not anymore?” he asked.

Clearly he didn't mind her rambling.

“Well, my dad got sick and I had to come back to Vegas. He didn't have health insurance, so I became his primary caregiver.”

“That must've been tough.” He pulled her closer, his fingertips stroking her arm.

She appreciated his strength and support, two things she hadn't had enough of lately. She'd thought she was used to being independent. She realized now just because she'd been used to it didn't mean she'd enjoyed it.

She sighed. “It wasn't easy. I took a job at my friend Paul's bar because he would let me leave
whenever Dad had an emergency. I'd hoped the progression of his disease would be slow, but it wasn't.”

Mike continued to run his fingers over her arm, comforting her. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“There's nothing to tell really. It's a sad, degenerative thing. I kept him home as long as possible until one day the neighbor who checked on him for me called to say he'd wandered off.” The fear Amber had experienced that day washed over her, nearly choking her again now. “We canvassed the neighborhood, all his favorite places.”

“Where was he?” Mike asked.

“Wandering downtown on the Strip, looking for an old casino where he'd first met my mother. It was torn down years ago.”

“That's awful.”

She saw her chance to link her life and experience to his. “It's similar to how your father lives in his own world. Except when you talk to Edward, he's
present.
He's there, in front of you, aware. Does that make sense?”

He nodded. “It does. But let's not talk about Dad right now. What happened once you found your father? And what's his name? I'd like to refer to him as a real person.”

She smiled. “His name is Sam, and you would have liked him,” she mused aloud. “That night, I brought him back home and the next day, I immedi
ately went in search of a clean, well-run nursing home for him. And that, as they say, is that.”

She had to get Mike off this subject before he probed too much deeper.

She'd have to lie or omit information and she just didn't want to do that to him. To them.

She pushed herself upright, holding the sheet against her chest. “Mike, what I'm trying to get at is that with my father, all opportunities to communicate and have a relationship are gone. But you still have that chance with Edward.”

He frowned, clearly unhappy with her subject change. “Don't you think I do what I can? But if I want to save my own sanity, I have to limit the time I spend with him. It's too hard, too painful.”

She smiled in understanding. “But I'm here now. And I can be the buffer. I can help you and Edward. In fact, I want to.” Leaning over, she kissed Mike full on the lips. “You have to shower and get dressed for work.”

He groaned, but tossed the covers off himself and rose. “Don't think this get-to-know-you stuff is finished. There's a lot you didn't tell me,” he said in warning.

She grinned, keeping things light. She didn't want him to sense she was deliberately hiding things. “I'll make breakfast while you shower,” she told him.

His gaze met hers and lingered. “You'll spoil me if I let you.”

“So let me,” she said softly.

Without replying, he turned and started for the bathroom. Her gaze followed his strong, firm rear end as he walked until the closed door changed the view.

She stood and pulled on one of Mike's shirts, something she was growing fond of doing, before heading to the kitchen to make breakfast.

She might as well keep busy now. She wouldn't be able to find out if anyone had pulled her marriage certificate from city hall until 9:00 a.m. Las Vegas time.

She whipped up scrambled eggs, orange juice and hot coffee, then waited for Mike to join her. She wanted to give him as many positive memories of them as a couple as possible before she was forced to disillusion him once more.

Amber sighed. She was a survivor. She'd always known how to get by, and if Mike followed through on the divorce, she knew she'd get through that, too. But that didn't mean she wouldn't fight—for herself
and
for him. If the time came, she'd walk away knowing she'd given it her all.

 

K
ING
B
OBBY WAS
in a celebratin' mood. “Amber Rose married Michael Corwin this past weekend. Whoo-wee! I got me some information!” He tossed his hat in the air, Texas style. His sources had come through again.

He had a name and an address, though there were no signs of her at her Vegas apartment. He'd have to set his sights on the husband, then. Detective Michael Corwin.

“Dang woman married a cop,” King Bobby muttered. Which meant he couldn't head East and show up at the cop's place, guns blazin'.

He'd have to go slow and subtle-like. He picked up the phone in his office and dialed home. “Emmy Lou?” he bellowed. “Book me a flight to Boston!”

Some things a man had to handle for himself.

M
IKE AND HIS PARTNER
often ate lunch at the deli near the courthouse, one block from the station, and today was no different. Dan was extolling the virtues of married life while Mike remained silent. He didn't have a typical marriage, so why bother joining the discussion? Besides, for the last two days Dan had been happy to provide enough conversation for the both of them, allowing Mike to deflect most inquiries about his personal life.

“So enough about me and Nat. How's Amber?” Dan asked before biting into a French fry.

“Fine,” Mike said in a monotone.

“And how's married life treating
you?
”

“Just fine,” he said in the same tone.

Dan rolled his eyes. “The hell it is. Not if you're still giving me short nonanswers. Just how long did you think I'd let you off the hook?”

“You want me to gossip like a woman?” Mike asked pointedly.

“Low blow, buddy.” Dan paused to pour more
ketchup on his plate. “Seriously. What's the matter? Aren't you getting laid?”

That was so far from the problem, Mike couldn't help but laugh. “I'm just not going to kiss and tell, no matter how many different ways you ask.” Mike had yet to come to grips with his wife and her secrets. Sharing how she'd taken off with his cash wasn't something Mike was willing to confide. Not even with his partner.

Dan narrowed his gaze. “You're being protective of your wife. I'll take that as a good sign.” Dan held up a fry to make his point before eating it.

Mike tackled his burger, hoping if he continued to ignore his partner, Dan would change the subject.

“Is Amber cooking for you?”

Apparently Dan wouldn't be deterred. “She makes me breakfast, but I haven't been home for dinner. And before you jump to any more brilliant conclusions, remember it's only been a couple of nights.”

“What's her specialty? Cold cereal?” Dan asked.

“Eggs. What's wrong with you, asking stupid questions like that?”

Dan shook his head. “What's wrong with
you?
You've got a hot woman at home who's cooking your meals and warming your bed and you're afraid to go home. When I mention married life, you act as if you're on death row. So I ask again. What's wrong with
you?
”

Mike could understand his partner's concern. But
he wasn't about to elaborate. “It's not that simple,” he said, jaw clenched.

“It could be. You married a stranger in Vegas. She followed you home. Now you're supposed to enjoy the get-to-know-you honeymoon stage. A little backward, but what did you expect?” Dan asked, his voice tinged with a combination of frustration and curiosity.

Mike had expected honesty. He'd wanted Amber to open up to him immediately upon her return. How else could he begin to understand her?

Hell, it wasn't as if he hadn't given her the opportunity to confide in him. Instead, she'd deliberately changed the subject, which told him she was hiding something big. Something she obviously didn't trust him to know.

Because she didn't think he could handle whatever it was?

For all he knew, she was right. He wouldn't know what he could handle until she confessed. And for such a big reveal,
she
needed to trust
him.
Clearly she didn't. Yet, just as obviously, she was trying to make the marriage work. He, on the other hand, had been grumpy and obnoxious outside the bedroom.

He groaned and pushed his plate away from him. He'd been handling her all wrong, he decided.

“How 'bout you cut the lady some slack?” Dan suggested. “You never know. You just might enjoy having her around.”

Mike nodded slowly, having just reached the same conclusion. “Anyone ever tell you that you aren't as dumb as you look? Maybe I should give Amber a break.” It wasn't as though living with her was torture.

She was beautiful, sweet, and when he let himself forget she'd stolen his money and taken off, he could almost believe she had a heart of gold. Added to that, there were plenty of perks, as Dan had pointed out. If they could find common ground, maybe they could make this thing work.

Unless whatever she was hiding drove an even bigger wedge between them.

 

A
MBER LOVED
Law and Order.
She watched the television show religiously whenever she got the chance and thanks to syndicated reruns, she could always find it on one channel or another. She'd been curled up on the couch, trying to get lost in the crime drama and not think about her own problems, when Mike came home from work.

At the end of the workday, he was adorably disheveled with a day's worth of razor stubble darkening his handsome face. Every time she looked at him, her desire for him renewed, stronger than before.

Since he'd said he'd grab dinner out, she expected him to shower and head to bed, where she'd have to corner him for a serious talk.

Instead, he sat down beside her on the couch. “What are you watching?” he asked.

Surprised, she decided to test his mood with some simple conversation. “
Law and Order.
Do you like the show?”

He inclined his head. “When I let myself forget I'm a cop, it's pretty good. Catch me up?” He pointed to the large screen.

“Okay. The blonde and her boyfriend had a con going and when things went bad, he bailed on her, leaving her to take the fall,” she said, her voice dropping as the explanation reminded her forcibly of her own situation with Marshall.

Mike settled in to watch, but Amber couldn't concentrate on the show.

She knew she had to tell him everything. It was only a matter of time before King Bobby tracked her down. But that wasn't her main priority, much as it should be. No, making this marriage work was her biggest concern. She needed to come clean. Mike had tried to push her for answers earlier. She'd wanted more time as a couple before she dropped the bomb on him. She'd been wrong to wait.

“What are the chances of
that
happening?” Mike asked sarcastically, gesturing toward the television.

Amber had missed whatever he was referring to.

“You see? This is why it's hard for me to get too involved in cop shows. They condense the time frame and things happen that frustrate the hell out of me.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You prefer real-life drama?” she asked.

“You know I do. Why?” He'd obviously caught her serious tone.

She drew a deep breath and curled one pajama-clad leg beneath her, steeling herself for his reaction. “Because I've got some real-life drama for you.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “
Your
life?” Shock tinged his voice. He probably didn't believe she was ready to come clean.

She could barely believe it herself. “Someone's looking for me,” she said before she could chicken out and disappoint him.

“Marshall and his friend,” Mike said with certainty and a good amount of disgust.

She winced because the truth was much worse than whatever he obviously imagined. “Not exactly. There's someone else. Remember the poker game I told you about?”

He pinned her with a steady look. “The one you
stole
my money for so Marshall could buy into?”

She forced herself not to look away and make her actions any worse by refusing to own up to them. If she wanted him to believe in her, she had to make sure she showed him she wasn't the horrible human being he thought.

As if such a thing was possible at this point. From his guarded tone, she meant no more to him than any other suspect he questioned.

“That's right.” She swallowed hard. “Marshall was sure he'd win by counting cards. And he did. Only apparently, the man he won the money from was a con himself, a ‘connected' con. He isn't happy and he's looking for me.”

Mike narrowed his gaze and she could see his cop brain at work, attempting to figure out all the angles. “Why is he looking for you and not Marshall?” he asked at last.

“Because the snake's gone underground, that's why,” she said, opening and closing her damp palms in frustration. “I've been trying to find him for the last few days. I've called every place and person I can think of and nobody's heard from him,” she said, allowing Mike to see her exasperation. “I'm not sitting around doing nothing, but he's disappeared.”

“Because he's a pro.” Mike's disgust was obvious. “If you can't find him, the guy looking for him won't be able to, either. But that doesn't explain why this guy would be looking for you. It's not like you were the one who cheated.”

Here we go, Amber thought, her stomach twisting into tight knots, making her sick.

At her silence, Mike looked at her warily. “Right?” he asked, pushing for the one answer it hurt her to give.

The man was a cop and she was about to tell him she was a cheat. For all the rationalization she'd
done for the last few months, she suddenly couldn't face what she'd done.

And yet she had no choice.

“Well?” he snapped at her. “It's a black-and-white question. I said, Marshall was the one cheating, not you.” His voice hardened on that one word.

“Not exactly.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “There's a lot you don't know about me.”

“Not for lack of trying,” he reminded her in a biting tone.

“I know.” She rose and smoothed the wrinkles in the silky pajama pants she wore, trying to find the words to explain. “Let me start at the beginning. I was born in Vegas and my mom died in childbirth.”

“I already know that. Go on.” His words held the strength of steel. His patience was obviously wearing thin.

But she had to do this her way. “My dad was a Vegas con. He knew how to count cards and that's how he made a living. I'm not going to say I condone it, but I grew up around him and his friends. Other than the years I lived with my grandparents, that's really all I knew.” As she spoke, she felt the prick-ling of the hair on her arms as it stood up on end.

“So you learned from him,” he said, his voice now flat, his expression carefully neutral.

He must have made an extremely good interrogator, Amber thought. She just wished she wasn't his subject. But she was, and everything she stood to
lose suddenly loomed in front of her. All the possibilities she'd dreamed of—a second chance in a new place, with a good, decent man. A life away from Vegas and the sin that came with that city. For Amber not to lose those things, she had to reach Mike. But she couldn't begin to read his emotions and her stomach continued to churn.

“I did learn from my father. Don't all children? Of course, it helped that I had a photographic memory,” she said lightly. She laughed.

He didn't. “I thought you said you were a concierge in Beverly Hills. Was that a lie?”

As he spoke, deliberately cold, thinking the worst of her, Amber saw a flicker of hope in his blue eyes that told her he wanted to find something to hold on to between them, too.

She grabbed on to that emotion and like a lifeline, she clung to his gaze. “I haven't lied to you,” she said, her voice steady and reassuring. “I admit that I left things out, but only because I didn't think you were ready to hear them. But I haven't lied.”

Mike exhaled a slow breath, conflicting thoughts filling his head. She hadn't lied. But she had done things he couldn't have begun to imagine.

He reminded himself that he shouldn't be surprised. He'd known she wasn't telling him everything. Giving her the benefit of a doubt, he attempted to look at her life from every angle. A young girl who'd never had a mother with only a con-artist
father and older grandparents from whom to learn. A child with a natural affinity for her father's so-called craft.

Unfortunately, any way he viewed the situation, she was a thief, stealing from poker opponents and later, from him.

He and his wife weren't just polar opposites. They diverged on the fundamental concept of honesty and integrity. Those notions defined his life.

The cop and the con. As he looked at her beautiful, imploring face, he couldn't find any middle ground.

“If you didn't lie, then how did card counting fit into your Beverly Hills life?” he asked at last.

“It didn't. Not until my father got sick.” She ran her hand through her curls.

He couldn't help noticing her hands shook. This wasn't easy for her, either. But she'd had time to prepare for this conversation. He was hearing it all for the first time.

He forced himself not to think, just to listen.

“I had health insurance through the hotel, but it didn't cover my father. And when I went to look at the nursing homes I could afford, it made me sick. I couldn't put him in one of those places.” Her voice cracked as she spoke and her pain affected him, slicing deep.