Carly Phillips - Lucky Streak

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 immediately 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.

KING BOBBY 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.

MIKE 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.