Lucky Streak (16 page)

Heart in her throat, Amber watched him go. She glanced at Clara and forced a smile. She and this woman had more in common than she'd first thought.
From lies and omissions, to hoping for a future with a good man, to the Corwin men and therefore their curse, Amber and Clara shared a bond.

Time would tell which, if either of them, would triumph.

E
DWARD REFUSED
to come into the house or talk to Mike about
that woman.
Mike didn't know what surprised him more, that his father had at one time stepped out of his self-imposed isolation and reached out to Clara Deveaux or the fact that the woman so obviously still had an impact on Edward now. At a loss over how to handle his father, Mike retreated inside the house where he and Amber ate dinner together, a meal she'd cooked for them by herself.

They shared comfortable conversation, Amber catching Mike up with what had gone on since she'd arrived in Stewart, and Mike filling her in about work and his partner's wedded bliss. A sense of normalcy settled over him and he realized he enjoyed the companionship, something he'd never really had before.

Every time he looked at Amber or inhaled her unique scent, the sexual attraction kicked him hard and he couldn't ignore it. Especially now that he'd given himself permission to indulge.

Today she wore a loose pink T-shirt with a low scoop neck and a pair of dark denim jeans. Barefoot, her red-painted toenails peeked out from beneath the hem of her pants. And her curls flowed around her shoulders, sexy and disheveled. She looked more delicious than the meal and he had a hard time keeping his mind on the food and conversation—instead of the
dessert
he hoped they'd share later on in bed.

When they finished eating, she filled a plate for Edward, covered it with tinfoil, and left it for him on the counter. “Maybe he'll eat when he comes inside.”

Mike doubted it. “I'm sure he'll appreciate it,” he said to Amber, not wanting to put a damper on her good intentions.

“Not that we'll ever know for sure.” Amber laughed. Obviously she already had his father's number.

Edward would never admit to appreciating anything. But Mike had noticed Amber's caring nature and surely his father would, too.

Together they brought the dishes over to the sink. She quickly rinsed and put them in the dishwasher while he cleaned the table.

When she finished, she leaned against the counter, looking like a woman with something on her mind.

He wasn't in the mood for deep conversation. He'd had enough of that today.

“Are you upset with me for inviting Clara here?” she asked.

“Am I acting like I'm mad?” he asked.

Because he wasn't. Surprisingly, he didn't blame Amber for Clara's intrusion. After all, Amber had been duped into believing Clara was a stranger.

And Amber had forgiven Clara because, as Amber had so rightly pointed out earlier, she'd done her share of duping.

“No, but I sure stirred things up around here,” Amber said, her eyes growing soft. “I wouldn't blame you if you were angry.”

“Stirring things up seems to be something you do well.” He couldn't hold back a grin. “Maybe I'm getting used to it.”

Her eyes lit up in obvious shock and more than a hint of pleasure. “Michael Corwin, are you
teasing
me?” she asked.

He thought for a minute then said, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Can I ask what caused the change?”

He shook his head, adamant about not getting into anything that could lead to an argument. “How about you just accept it and enjoy, instead?”

Her lips turned up in a smile. “I can do that.” In one smooth motion, she looped her arms around his neck and placed a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

He liked her like this, compliant and willing, soft and easy in his arms. While he had her, he wasn't
about to let her go. He slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, while tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging lightly.

She responded with a sweet moan, arching her back and pressing her chest against his. The softness of her body contrasted with the harder pucker of her nipples beneath her shirt and he could swear steam rose between them.

“Let's move this to the bedroom,” he suggested, unwilling to wait another minute.

At the sound of Mike's voice, Amber stepped back and suddenly realized where she was—in Edward Corwin's kitchen. “The bedroom sounds good,” she murmured.

He agreed with a low rumble from deep in his throat.

Her body agreed, too. More than anything, she wanted to satisfy the need he always created inside her. “But we can't continue what we started.”

The words didn't come easily and the startled look on his face would have been priceless if it didn't hurt so badly.

And Mike wasn't laughing. “Why not?”

She gripped the counter behind her. “Because we're in your father's house. It's disrespectful, for one thing.”

His eyes opened wide. “You were willing earlier! And we're
married,
for heaven's sake!”

“I know.” More and more, she was beginning to
think she wanted to stay that way, for more reasons than just the physical. That was why she'd changed her mind about sleeping with him now. She wanted to be smart about every move she made. “I just wouldn't be comfortable doing…it…here.”

Throughout the day, she'd come to some conclusions she hoped would prove valuable in the long run. Mike had no problem resisting her in bed. Sexually they were one hundred percent compatible. But it was the other areas of their marriage that needed strengthening. She couldn't work on those if she succumbed to his charm in bed while allowing him to erect barriers everywhere else.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me you don't plan on sleeping in separate rooms while we're here?”

She shook her head, glad he sounded so frustrated at the notion. “Of course not. We'll sleep in the same room, in the same bed. We just won't have sex,” she said, lowering her voice on the last word. “Relationships are about more than the physical.”

He grit his teeth, clearly disagreeing. “And how do you think we'll get through the night?” He reached out and stroked her cheek, his voice tense with suppressed sexual tension.

Tension she felt, as well. But as much as she desired him, a short-term fix wouldn't help her in the long run.

“We'll talk,” she whispered in his ear, seductive
yet deliberately playful. “We'll share intimate secrets and get to know each other better.” She brushed her lips across his to silence any objection.

Then, taking his hand, she led her husband to bed.

 

I
N THE BEDROOM
, Mike found himself caught in a trap of his own making. He had taken the weekend off from work, a spur-of-the-moment decision he'd made after seeing his father's reaction to Clara Deveaux. He'd sensed a storm was brewing and he wanted to be there to help his father weather it.

But once again, irony bit him in the ass. Here he was, with his wife, having made the decision to sleep with her now and worry about leaving her when the time came. Didn't it figure that she'd decide to hold back?

She wanted them to get to know each other,
he thought, frustrated in more ways than one.

Maybe if he fell asleep—or pretended to—before Amber came out of the bathroom, he could avoid what was sure to be a drawn-out conversation, not to mention the ache of being constantly turned on as he lay beside her. Unable to act on the need that had been eating him alive since their encounter in the kitchen.

And though he'd like to think she'd purposely led him on, to tease him in a minx sort of way, what he'd glimpsed in her eyes prevented him from
thinking so little of her. She wasn't flirting only to make him suffer. She was as drawn to him as he was to her. As carried away as he'd been. Only she'd come to her senses, out of respect for his father.

Which would have impressed him if not coupled with her need to
talk.
The female term for bonding emotionally.

He punched his pillow and rolled over, away from the door, a minute before he sensed her presence in the doorway. He knew she was there before she said a word. The fresh scent from her shower permeated the air around him and the light padding of her bare feet had sounded against the floor. His already-strung-tight body hardened even more…though he knew he wouldn't be getting any tonight.

She slid into bed beside him, the ripple of sheets and heat of her body alerting his senses even more.

“Are you awake?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He couldn't get away with faking sleep. With a groan, he propped himself up against the pillows, resigned to conversation. “I am now.”

She shook her head and laughed. “You were before. I heard you muttering to yourself as I walked inside.”

He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. She had him so distracted he couldn't think. Now he couldn't tear his gaze away from her V-neck sleep shirt that gave him too small a peek into her cleavage.

“Focus, Mike. I want to talk,” she said, obviously holding back laughter.

How could he, when a stray piece of hair curled around her cheek, tempting him?

“What is it about this conversation you're trying to avoid?” she asked knowingly.

“What is it about this conversation that's so important to you?” he asked, turning the question back on her.

She snuggled closer. “I want to talk about your father.”

Her answer took him by surprise. “You don't want to talk about
us?
”

“Not this time.”

Her light laughter should have relaxed him, but the subject didn't. He wasn't any more comfortable discussing Edward than he was talking about
them.

Still, he eased back against the pillows. Since she wasn't going to accept no for an answer, Edward as a topic was the lesser of two evils. “What about him?”

Amber curled her body against his. Mike grit his teeth, fighting the pleasurable sensations that wouldn't be eased any time soon.

“I was wondering if your father has ever seen a doctor?” Amber asked.

“For a physical?”

She shook her head, the soft curls splaying across his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and ac
cepted the situation, hoping by the time she was finished talking, she'd be as aroused as he was and more willing to finish what they'd started in the kitchen.

“A mental-health professional.”

Unprepared, Mike stiffened and bit back the first words that came to mind—
What the hell for?—
knowing how absurd they would sound.

“Relax.” She squeezed his tense biceps. “I'm not criticizing, I'm trying to help. So, has he seen anyone?”

“No.”

“Why not? You admitted yourself that his behavior is
off.
I've seen it for myself.”

“He's been driven to the brink by a goddamn curse that's hovered over this family like a black cloud for centuries. What can a shrink do about that?”

She propped herself up so she could meet his gaze. “What if it's more than that? What if Edward's mood swings and instability are the symptoms of something that can be controlled? Not the result of a so-called curse.” Amber spoke slowly. She obviously chose her words carefully.

But Mike couldn't answer her question. To take Edward to a psychiatrist meant learning for certain whether or not his father was insane. And that would bring to light Mike's biggest, unexpressed fear. If Edward was crazy…genetically, clinically crazy and
not just driven there by the Corwin curse, could Mike be far behind?

“Mike?” she asked quietly. “Isn't it worth it to find out? Maybe something can be done for your dad.”

He exhaled hard. He wanted nothing more than to help his father, his own fears be damned. But he was embarrassed he'd never thought of psychiatric help before. Nobody had.

Until Amber. “I'll look into it,” he said at last, before reaching over and shutting the lamp, then rolling away from her. Trying to block the desire and the emotional bonding she'd effortlessly achieved.

Undeterred, she curled around him, wrapping her arm around his waist, claiming her place beside him. “I only want to help you and your family,” she said into the darkness.

Nobody had ever wanted to help them before. Make fun of them? The kids had lined up. Whisper about them in town? Even the adults had been game.

“Why?” he asked her.

“Because I'm your wife.” She hugged him tighter. “And because I care.”

 

B
ECAUSE
I
CARE
.

Amber's words were the first thing on Mike's mind the next morning. As he showered, he couldn't stop thinking of what she'd said. Was there help for his father? If so, it was worth facing his own fears about the insanity in his family in order to find out.