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.