Lucky Streak

CHAPTER SIX

MIKE AWOKE to the smell of coffee. He knew immediately where he was and what he’d done. A quick glance told him the bag with the money remained in the corner of the room, but was his wife here, too?

If so, they needed to have a talk about their divorce, something he had no choice but to pursue. He couldn’t remain with a woman he didn’t trust enough to be certain she’d be around in the morning.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans before walking to the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans clattering told him Amber hadn’t bailed on him and sure enough, she padded barefoot around his kitchen, humming as she cracked eggs into a bowl. An overwhelming sense of relief mixed with pleasure as he watched her work in his kitchen, once again wearing nothing but his shirt.

Considering the conclusion he’d come to moments before, he pushed away the fact that he liked having her here, chalking it up to good sex the night before.

Not just good sex. Great sex. His body jolted alive at the memory.

He cleared his throat.

She turned to him with a big smile on her face. “Good morning!”

“You’re still here.”

The light dimmed in her eyes, but she kept the smile. “I told you I would be. So how do you like your eggs?”

Now that he was sure she was here, he was suddenly in no rush to have the divorce conversation. But the longer he stalled the more difficult it would be. “Surprise me.”

“Why don’t you go shower,” she said, waving a fork in the air as she spoke. “Breakfast will be ready when you’re through.”

He paused, torn about when to discuss their future. She looked so pleased with herself that he couldn’t hurt her again by bringing it up just yet.

“Don’t worry. All the silverware will be here when you return,” she said, turning away from him. “Now go.”

He winced. Still, all through his shower, he reminded himself she was feeling bad because of something she’d done, not him. It didn’t help his guilt.

A short while later, they shared fluffy Spanish omelets made with ingredients she’d obviously found in his refrigerator and delicious hot coffee.

“You make a mean omelet,” he said, complimenting her while shoveling the last of his breakfast into his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

“Thanks. I used to cook breakfast for my dad when I was growing up. He liked my Spanish omelet so I thought you might, too.”

Conversation remained light, topics like Boston weather and what time he had to leave for work flowing easily between them.

Mike waited until they’d finished eating to bring up the discussion he knew they had to have. And when he couldn’t stall anymore, he decided it was time. “Amber…”

“Mike…”

He chuckled at their timing. “You first.”

She met his gaze. “Well, I came here on the spur of the moment and I didn’t pack my things. I don’t have a suitcase or clothes…” She studied him with doe eyes, making him feel responsible for her yet again.

And damned if despite it all, he didn’t like it. He exhaled a slow groan and weighed the possibilities. He could give her his credit card and be taken for a fool again or he could hand her limited cash and hope she was telling the truth.

“I’ll give you some money and you can pick up what you need for a couple of days.” He saw the opening for a serious conversation and took it. “As soon as I have some free time, I’m going to look into a quick divorce.” That had been to the point, he thought, disgusted with his lack of tact.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to clear his plates off the table. Maybe if he kept busy, he wouldn’t see the hurt in her expression or shock in her eyes. He sure as hell had the bitter taste of the words on his tongue.

Amber wasn’t surprised by Mike’s declaration, but despite his intentions, she wasn’t letting him go that easily. In order for her to see if she and her husband had a future, she needed some time being his wife.

While making breakfast, she’d formulated a plan that would put herself in the center of his life and give him a chance to get to know the real Amber.

With a little Las Vegas luck, by the time she was finished, he wouldn’t be able to let her go. “Let me know what you find out,” she said, not using the word divorce.

“I will.”

“Can I borrow your car?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “What for? You’re in the middle of the city. You can take a cab or the subway anywhere you want to go.”

“Even to visit your father?” she asked. Edward had seemed like a man in need of family or a friend. She understood Mike didn’t have the time during the day, but she did.

He shook his head. “Oh, no. There’s no reason for you to go stirring up things at home.”

“Okay.” She let out a forced sigh. She’d comply with his request. For now. “Let me have the keys in case. I’m used to having a car and I don’t want to feel trapped.” She raised an eyebrow and held out one hand.

It was a test. She only wanted to see how far he’d extend his faith in her. She was perfectly willing to take public transportation wherever she needed to go. She just wanted some little indication of trust between them.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth, handing her his car keys.

“Thank you!” She jumped up and without thinking, kissed him on the cheek.

The spicy scent of soap from his recent shower and his delicious aftershave seeped into her pores. A warm, fuzzy feeling overcame her and she let her lips linger against his freshly shaven skin.

He didn’t move, remaining frozen in place. She heard her heart beating inside her chest and with everything inside her, she wished he’d turn his face so their lips could meet and break the emotional barrier he’d so obviously erected between them.

Not even sex last night, which had been incredible, had thawed him out this morning. He was attracted to her and enjoyed things between them when he let himself, but he was angry at himself because of it. And, of course, he was still furious with her.

She’d been trying hard to ignore the deliberate distance, but now she admitted to herself how much it hurt. How badly she wanted his forgiveness.

Instead of kissing her, he cleared his throat. “I have to call my partner and tell him to pick me up on his way to work.” He rose, breaking the connection that had been way too short.

She forced a nod. “Have a good day.”

“Thanks.”

“And Mike?”

“Yes?” He gripped the back of the chair tight with one hand.

“I will be here when you get home.”

THE FIRST THING Amber did after Mike left for work was to call Paul and check on her father.

She discovered that Paul had made arrangements to have Sam moved to a new nursing home as soon as a room became available in the place Amber had chosen. In the meantime, he’d taken Marshall’s name off the visitors’ list. He’d also made certain the staff understood Marshall was no longer allowed to see Sam, and that the older man was not to be taken out of the building without his or Amber’s consent.

Amber called the nursing home herself and made certain her father was calm and doing okay after his outing yesterday. The staff had assured her Sam was fine. His condition allowed him the serenity of not worrying about his daughter’s predicaments, for which Amber was grateful-at least for the moment, while her life was such a mess.

Her dad might have been a professional cheater, but to Amber, he’d had a heart. He’d also had an understanding of the human condition. He realized the men involved in those high-stakes poker games, men like King Bobby, were, typically, extremely wealthy people who viewed life as Sam did-as a gamble and a risk. Or the competitors were cons like Sam himself. He’d never knowingly stolen from someone who was risking their mortgage payment or child’s education. Odd morals, but they existed.

And Amber had based her own beliefs on his. Her father had taught Amber how to recognize a chronic gambler and steer clear. Even at her most desperate, when she’d first needed money for her father’s care, she made sure the competition in the poker games she’d played met her father’s criteria-filthy rich and stupid, or bored. Easy marks or fellow cheaters.

Which might explain how this last game had gone sour, Amber thought. Maybe King Bobby recognized a fellow cheater in Marshall because he was one himself. Maybe King Bobby was smarter than he appeared. Maybe he really was connected with people who could hurt her if he didn’t get back the money he’d lost. Amber had always known she could only live the life with people like Marshall for so long before she got bit by her actions.

She trembled before catching herself. She’d made her bed, so to speak. Now she had to fix things, but first she had to understand what exactly was going on. Her next phone call was to check the messages back at her apartment. There was a flurry of normal calls, friends and other things that were part of her life.

And then there was one last unnerving message-another old contact, Robyn Lane, a concierge at the Beverly Wilshire in California, spoke in detail.

Amber hit Replay. She needed to make sure she’d understood her friend correctly. “Hi, Amber, hon, it’s Robyn Lane from the Beverly Wilshire. Long time! Hope Vegas is treating you right. I thought you’d want to know three dudes from Texas were asking around here last night for a concierge named Amber. They didn’t have a last name, but they described your funky blond curls and paired with your not-so-common first name, I thought they might be looking for you, even though they had the wrong hotel. Of course, I didn’t give them any information. Just took their card to pass along to you in case you’re interested in contacting them. Gotta go. Call me.” A loud beep indicated the end of the call.

Karma was a bitch.

Just ask Earl. But Amber wasn’t a TV character. She was real and she just wanted to put her old life behind her. So far King Bobby hadn’t found her, but she couldn’t afford to go back to Vegas until he was finished looking. But if Mike was successful in his bid for a quick divorce, she’d have nowhere else to go. She’d already determined she had her reasons for wanting to stay with him that had nothing to with avoiding King Bobby. And she planned to do her best to make certain Mike had no time to think about wanting her to leave.

Still, she couldn’t discount the possibility that King Bobby would track her via the Crown Chandler Hotels. He was certainly rich enough to buy the information he needed.

She placed a call to the Chandler in Beverly Hills to speak to Sydney London, the day head concierge. Sydney hadn’t heard that anyone had been looking for her, but she promised to ask the other employees and get back to Amber as soon as possible.

Her nerves were raw. But the irony was, Amber still didn’t know why King Bobby was after her. Did he know she was involved with cheating? Did he just want to use her to get to Marshall? Was he just out to regain his money, which she didn’t have? Or equally frightening, did he want plain old revenge?

Amber really liked her legs in one piece and didn’t want them broken, something a connected man like King Bobby could have done with ease. Drawing a deep breath, she sat down with her cell phone, a pad and pen, and began calling all Marshall’s old hangouts to discover if anyone had heard from him in the last twenty-four hours or so. After twenty minutes, she knew that no one who was a friend or acquaintance had seen or spoken to him. Still, she figured he couldn’t lay low forever and left messages for him everywhere. She didn’t leave her phone number. She just said to tell Marshall to get in touch with her immediately. He knew how. She wasn’t going to provide any more of a trail than she had to.

By the time she finished making calls, her hands were shaking and she was no closer to solving her problem than when she’d started. But she’d been as proactive as possible, keeping up that Vegas spirit, that luck combined with hard work would achieve the best results. All she could do now was hope Marshall heard she was looking for him and chose to get in touch.

After a refreshing shower that calmed her down, she redressed in yesterday’s clothes, took the money Mike had given her, adding it to the tally of what she already owed him, and headed out shopping.

She filled the morning buying inexpensive but chic outfits to impress her husband and make him drool.

On her travels, she’d passed Mike’s police station. She’d noted the address of his precinct from papers in his apartment, and she noticed on the corner by the station was a beautiful restaurant. She wanted to do something nice for Mike, but she didn’t want to use his money to do it. The one thing a concierge did was to learn the lay of the land where she’d work-the hotels, restaurants, shops, et cetera. Amber didn’t have a job in town-yet-but if she intended to remain here, she might as well start making contacts right away. And with the right schmoozing, she could pull off a surprise for her husband.

The minute Amber stepped inside the exquisitely decorated restaurant and smelled the delicious aroma of Italian food, she formulated an addition to her plan. Once she explained to the owner that by feeding the local police department, he would hopefully increase his lunch and dinner trade, he agreed to send over free lunch. Of course, it helped that she mentioned she was a concierge at the Boston Crown Chandler hotel and she’d return the favor by talking up his restaurant to the hotel clientele. Once day soon, she hoped her words would be true and she’d do as she promised.

Pleased with herself and her plan, Amber headed home. Close to noon, dressed in fresh clothes, she sat down at the old PC in Mike’s apartment and booted it up. She printed out maps of the area and took note of the five-star restaurants in the vicinity, and then the smaller cafés. It would take time, but she’d learn the area by doing a little research each day.

Finally, she shut down the computer and stored her papers on what she wanted to consider her side of the bed, on her nightstand. Then she headed to Mike’s precinct in time to view his reaction to the spread of Italian food that arrived out of the blue.

MIKE DEPOSITED the remains of the Vegas winnings in the bank and spent the morning at the station. Although he had no real right to pry, he ran a credit check on Amber Rose and discovered no shady dealings-providing him with another glimmer of hope she wasn’t running a scam on him. Though she could be using him to fund her life during a rough patch, at least she wasn’t lying to him outright. By omission was another story. The woman was a bundle of contradictions. Savvy enough to make it on her own for years, dealing with a man like Marshall, yet emotional enough to be hurt by Mike’s lingering anger. He couldn’t let her big eyes get to him. He had to stick to his divorce plan.

“Hey, man, you’ve been distracted all morning. Everything okay?” his partner, Dan, asked.

Mike nodded. “Everything’s fine. Just jet-lagged, that’s all.” Mike had no intention of telling Dan about his marriage to Amber or the rest of the drama. The fewer people who knew, the easier it would be to put his wife on a plane and fly her out of his. Things could go on as usual with nobody any the wiser, Mike thought.

Even his father would see and respect the wisdom in that plan.

His father. Mike had promised Edward he’d call him today, but he didn’t want to answer questions about his marriage while he had a bunch of nosy cops sitting within listening distance. He’d just have to call later, from the privacy of his home.

Privacy with Amber there? Now, that was a joke. Mike shook his head and tried to focus on the phone calls he’d been making.

“Is there a Mr. Mike Corwin here?” someone with a heavy Italian accent asked.

Mike swiveled in his chair. “I’m Corwin. What can I do for you?”

“Lunchtime,” the balding man said as he strode over to Mike’s desk.

Behind him, two women followed with bags, and they began to unload containers of delicious-smelling Italian food. “Where can we put this?” one of them asked.

“Wait. I didn’t order anything.” Mike rose from his seat.

“Not to worry,” the man said. “A woman named Amber stopped by my place of business this morning. She’s mutta bella,” he said, beaming. “And smart. She suggested I bring my food to Boston’s finest and let you indulge. Then maybe you’ll recommend my place around town. Capice?”

Dan stood beside him. “Amber?” he asked, obviously recognizing the name.

Before Mike could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to answer, Tom, their captain, cleared an old table. “You can put the food right here,” he said, grinning. Turning to Mike, he said, “You can explain later. For now, we’re all going to enjoy.”

Amid murmurs of approval, his colleagues began to filter into the room, waiting for the restaurant staff to finish the setup. They’d even brought plastic plates, forks and knives.

Mike’s stomach churned, torn between wanting to kill Amber for infiltrating this part of his life, and gratitude because he and his colleagues rarely had the opportunity to enjoy a decent lunch. Thanks to Amber, they would indulge today. And everyone in the precinct seemed thrilled with the surprise.

Only Dan, who’d met Amber in Vegas, seemed as concerned as Mike himself. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Mike spread his hands in front of him.

“Better yet, what kind of a psycho woman follows a man across the country and then proceeds to feed his friends and coworkers?” Dan continued, not giving Mike a chance to reply.

Not that he knew what to say anyway.

“His wife, that’s what kind of psycho woman would do something like this,” Amber said, suddenly appearing beside them. “Hello, Dan,” she said, patting his shoulder. “How’s married life treating you?”

“Oh, shit,” Mike muttered.

“Wife?” Dan practically shouted. “What the hell did you do in Vegas anyway?”

Silence descended around them, broken soon after by an impromptu round of applause.

Mike could barely process his thoughts as people slapped him on the back, shook Amber’s hand and complimented him on bringing back a gem of a wife-a woman who cared not just about his stomach, but his friends’ too.

Only Dan watched them warily.

“I’ll explain later,” Mike promised his partner.

“You bet you will. Natalie will want to have dinner with the two of you.” He shook his head. “You. Married.” He looked perplexed and confused.

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Mike said. “Go eat.” He turned away from Dan and toward Amber. “You. Outside. Now. We need to talk.”

She raised an eyebrow, but let him grab her hand and pull her onto the street.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked once they were alone on the sidewalk in front of the station.

Amber blinked at him, all soft eyes and confusion. “I thought you’d be surprised, not mad. What’s wrong? You don’t like Italian food?” she asked, obviously trying for humor.

Mike clenched his jaw, steeling himself against her appeal. He needed to be strong and make her understand how things should be between them until they returned to Vegas. “I don’t like my private life being bandied around. Especially since I didn’t plan on telling anyone we were married.”

“Oh.”

He heard her disappointment and felt it inside him. Once again, her error had left him feeling lower than dirt. Despite it all, the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her.

“Look, this is a complicated situation,” he said, meeting her gaze.

“Do I embarrass you?”

He took her in with one glance. From her strappy sandals, simple sundress, to her sunny hair, she was a breath of fresh air. “Hell, no, you don’t embarrass me. Those guys inside are probably frothing at the mouth with jealousy.” Unable to stop himself, he ran his hand through her soft curls.

She wet her lips and her eyes turned softer with gratitude, and hazy with that damn attraction that was always there between them. Simmering just below the surface.

Daring him to ignore it.

As if he could.

He didn’t know who started it, but soon his lips were on hers, seeking her sweetness, apologizing for hurting her, showing her she wasn’t an embarrassment, but a woman he desired. His tongue swept through her mouth, feeding off her delicious taste.

“Excuse me,” Dan said, clearing his throat when they didn’t break apart right away. “But there are people inside waiting for an explanation. And some just want to congratulate you.”

Mike stepped back.

Amber’s cheeks flushed pink. “I guess we should head back in.”

Mike inclined his head and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. Which gave Dan the opportunity to add, “And some of us just want to know if you’ve lost your damn mind.”

But even his partner’s concern couldn’t stop the grin that spread across Mike’s face. Because as Edward had said, Amber was hot. And she was a challenge-he didn’t know what she’d do next.

Still, Mike had to admit she was trying to make things up to him. She treated him like the center of her universe, going out of her way to please him. It was difficult not to remember all the things that had drawn him to her in the first place.

KING BOBBY stared at the phone in the office of his dealership, willing the darn thing to ring.

“A watched pot never boils,” Emmy Lou said, peeking into the room.

“Go away, woman! You sound like my momma!” No wonder he had a mistress waiting for him whenever he could escape from the woman’s nagging.

As if on cue, the telephone rang and he let out a whoop of glee. “Speak to me!” he demanded.

After listening for a few minutes, he barked to the man on the line, “So someone at the Chandler admits that an Amber once worked there? That’s it? If I need to do your thinkin’ for ya, I got no need to pay you. Just tell ’em your boss wants to open a hotel and is interested in this old employee of theirs. Throw some money around until you git access to her employment file. I need a last name!” he bellowed, his blood pressure rising.

“Once they get her names they should check the Department of Records,” Emmy Lou suggested.

King Bobby hadn’t realized she was still there, damn nosy broad.

If he hadn’t knocked her up when she was young and she hadn’t threatened to take him for all he was worth, he’d be long divorced by now. Emmy Lou liked being King Bobby’s queen. Good thing she came in useful once in a while.

“Good idea, sweet cheeks,” he said. Then he repeated her words to his guys out in Beverly Hills. “Next time you call me, I want concrete information!” he bellowed so they’d know he meant business.

After hanging up the phone, he pulled out his bankroll and peeled off a number of hundreds, then waved them at Emmy Lou. “Why don’t you go shopping. I have work to do.”

Emmy Lou smiled, pleased, and snatched the cash from his hand.

“I won’t be home for dinner,” he said to his wife’s retreating back.

She wouldn’t care.

Mentally, she was halfway to the mall already. With money in her pocket, she wouldn’t be home early tonight, either. She’d call her friends, hit the stores, head to an expensive dinner and come home toasted.

“Whoo-wee!” He picked up the phone and dialed his lady friend.

If his yahoos found that Amber’s information, the King would be gettin’ lucky tonight. In more ways than one.