Lucky Streak (4 page)

She closed her eyes, letting the rolling wave wash over her. “Oh, yes.”

He slid his hand between them, slipping his index finger into her moist heat. “You're wet,” he murmured. “And I'm going to make you wetter.” He traced a long path with his tongue, a thorough exploration of her body with his hands, his mouth and light grazing of his teeth. And when he reached her breasts, he dipped his head for a taste, drawing one tight nipple into his mouth.

Amber felt the pull from her aching breasts straight down to her toes and everywhere in between. She glanced down. His dark hair brushed against her bare chest and an overwhelming sensation of rightness swept over her. She'd let him do anything and then do it again.

His hands parted her bare thighs and when he touched her
there,
all rational thought fled. Her focus narrowed until nothing mattered but the exquisite sensations he created in her body. He knew just where to touch her and how.

He held on to her thighs and the sheer eroticism of what he was about to do caused a quickening of excitement in her belly. He laved his tongue over her mound. Long loving strokes followed by quick flickers that brought her closer and closer to release. The pressure built higher and faster until she couldn't take it another minute.

Her hips bucked beneath him and suddenly she cried out, her climax catching her off guard as the waves assaulted her one after another, seemingly without end.

She was barely aware of him leaning away from her and then returning. Just as she began to come back to reality, he tore open a condom and settled himself over her.

“I can't believe you had one on you,” she murmured in relief. Protection had been the last thing on her mind and it should have been first.

“It's been in my wallet forever.” A flush heightened his cheekbones.

Amber appreciated the admission. “It's been a while for me, as well,” she said honestly. “But I'm glad you're the kind of man who likes to be prepared.”

“In my family, it pays to be.” His eyes shuttered closed, blocking his secrets.

“You'll have to tell me why one day.”

“At the moment, I can think of better things to do than talk.” He drew her arms up above her head, distracting her with his naked body.

He was sexy, handsome and very, very male. And he was hers.

“What are you grinning about?” he asked.

“I didn't realize I was.” Obviously thinking about him made her smile, but she wasn't ready to admit that just yet.

Although her father had been her guardian, she'd had to be independent and she'd raised herself in his unorthodox world. She'd been alone and on her own for longer than she cared to remember and she liked the notion that she had someone to share things with now. The logistics between them didn't matter. They'd work those out in time. Right now, the ring and the license proved they were a couple.

“I'm just thinking, if my first…um, climax was so amazing, the next one will be off the charts.”

He brushed his thumb over her moist lips. “Because I'll be inside you.” As he spoke, he nudged himself between her thighs.

He was rock hard and she wanted, needed, to have him fill her in the most basic, primal way. She bent her knees to help him ease his way. Without breaking eye contact, he thrust deep inside. Her entire body felt the penetration as she accepted all of him and she drew in a shallow breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, glancing at her with concern.

She nodded. “I told you it had been a while.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips,
silently telling her he appreciated that fact. “Let's make it easier on you.” With a slick motion, he rolled to the side, taking her with him and settling her on top, straddling him. “Now you're in control.”

He placed his hands on her waist and rolled his hips upward, causing a rippling swell of rising need in her as their bodies ground together all too briefly before the tide eased.

She moaned at the sensual assault and picked up his rhythm, rocking her hips from side to side, reveling each time their bodies touched at just the right spot, and the pressure inside her built higher. Together they created the perfect ride and it wasn't long before she was moaning aloud as she clenched her inner walls harder around his rigid length.

His grip tightened on her waist and his pace grew more frenzied. Unable to hold herself up any longer, she stretched forward, leaning across him and letting her chest press hard against his. Heat assaulted her from the intimate contact and her nipples puckered tighter, pressing into him, the friction adding to the spiraling heights to which she was ascending.

Suddenly he let out a low groan, thrust his hand into the back of her hair and kissed her hard, his body frantically pumping upward, as he pulsed inside her and took her along with him. Her climax was all consuming, rippling through her with lightning speed. As
one glorious wave ended, another began. Finally, she lay on top of him, spent and oh so satisfied.

 

M
IKE AWOKE
to a pounding headache the likes of which he hadn't felt since his college days and the smell of coffee brewing. Disoriented, it took a few minutes to remember. Las Vegas for Dan and Natalie's wedding, rescuing the beautiful blonde from the guy manhandling her, spending the day partying, winning a hundred and fifty grand and—
holy shit—
getting married?

He ran his hand through his hair and sat upright in bed. The quick movement was hell on his fuzzy head, but the events of yesterday were suddenly crystal clear. He had married Amber Rose.

He already knew he was alone in bed, but the smell of coffee told him she was up, and the sound of the fan indicated she was probably in the bathroom. He drew a deep breath and let the reality settle in.

He was married.

To Amber.

Surprisingly, he wasn't upset by the notion.

He'd grown up watching his father descend into reclusive madness because of love lost and the damn curse. With Amber, he'd had fun. And if they could make the logistics work, maybe they could have a decent life together without invoking the notion of his losing everything like the rest of the men in his family.

Although his cousin Derek was currently married to the love of his life, everyone around them felt as if they were walking on proverbial eggshells waiting for something bad to happen. Which made Amber, who made him laugh and whom he enjoyed, something of a perfect catch. Even if they'd tied the knot in a Vegas chapel the same day they'd met.

He rose to check on his
wife,
eager to see her again and repeat the amazing sex they'd had last night. Just thinking about her warm body and the incredible noises she made had him hard and ready in an instant.

A full pot of coffee sat on the counter in the sitting area, but she wasn't there. The bathroom door was ajar and he could see she wasn't standing by the sink, either. He didn't hear the water running, but he stepped into the bathroom anyway, his gut churning as he took in the empty shower stall.

He was alone in the hotel room. Telling himself not to panic, he slowly walked to the closet and opened the door, praying he was wrong.

But the safe was open and the money gone.

All one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of it. And so was his new wife.

“I'
VE GOT YOUR FATHER
.”

Amber hadn't believed Marshall when she'd picked up a call from him on her cell phone while she was making coffee for Mike. She'd immediately hung up and dialed the nursing home, asking them to put her father on the line. He no longer had a phone in his room, since there really was no need. Carole, the day nurse, told her that Marshall had taken him out for lunch to meet Amber.

In the early days at the home, all her father had asked for was a weekly outing with Amber or Marshall, something to make him feel he still had the freedom to visit his favorite places with people he enjoyed. It had seemed a small thing to put Marshall's name on the list of people allowed to remove him from the home for outside visits. Only Amber, Marshall and Amber's closest friend, Paul, the bar owner who'd been her best friend since childhood, were allowed access. Paul was the second emergency contact.

As the days wore on and her father seldom roused himself from staring vacantly into space, the outings stopped. She only came to visit and talk, hoping to catch a spark of something in his expression. She'd forgotten about the list she'd given the home of people allowed to take her father out.

Marshall hadn't. J.R. had told him about Mike's winnings and that's what Marshall wanted. Mike's one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in exchange for her father.

Sweating in the un-air-conditioned taxi, she grit her teeth on the half-hour ride to the restaurant where Marshall had brought her father, wondering how her life had turned around so quickly.

One minute Amber had been feeling that everything was right in the world. She'd met Mike at the right time, when she was not only ready for a change, but needed one desperately. Marshall and the card-counting life she so despised were behind her. Instead, she'd go home to Boston with Mike, get settled and bring her father to a local nursing home nearby. She could get a job at a Boston hotel, get hired on as a concierge again, and somehow between them, she could make things work.

But as soon as her cell phone rang, she knew she'd been spinning fantasies that could never come true. Unless she got the chance to explain and make Mike trust her again when this was all over.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the cab came
to a stop in front of the restaurant. Amber tossed the driver a generous amount of money, grabbed the hotel laundry bag full of cash and jumped out of the car.

She started to run, then caught herself. Marshall thrived on his opponent's fear. If he sensed weakness, she'd lose whatever little bit of leverage she might possess. It was bad enough she was dressed in yesterday's rumpled cocktail dress, her hair a tangled mess. She could, at least, act calm and unruffled.

Drawing a deep breath, she walked inside and headed to the back of the restaurant where her father sat in his favorite chair, staring at nothing in front of him.

Ignoring Marshall, Amber walked over to Sam and kissed his cheek. “Are you okay, Daddy?” she asked him.

No reply. Not that she expected one. It was enough that he was here and safe.

“Of course he's okay. Mezze Luna is his favorite restaurant. As you can see I ordered him pasta Bolognese, his favorite meal. Join us.” Marshall gestured to the seat next to him.

Amber sat stiffly. She didn't want to have an argument in front of her father because he tended to get upset if the dynamics around him were unfriendly. Until she had him safely back in the home and Marshall's name removed from the list of visitors, she had to play the game.

“Would you like something to eat?” Marshall asked.

“No, thank you.”

“Really? I'm sure you and your new husband worked up quite an appetite last night,” he said, not bothering to hide the disdain on his face.

She narrowed her gaze. “How did you know about that?” She thought she'd lost J.R.

“The same way I knew about the money. J.R. was keeping an eye on you and he's good at his job. You're not just my meal ticket, Amber. I care about you and I promised your father I'd look after you. Didn't I, Sam?”

Amber didn't look at him. Whenever she'd thought of getting married, she'd always imagined her father walking her down the aisle of a beautiful church, packed with family and friends. Not a quickie Las Vegas ceremony. Ironically, it wasn't the lack of frills that bothered her, it was the seedy way Marshall made her actions sound in front of her only parent. That and the fact that Sam couldn't have been there, but she'd come to terms with his illness. She just resented Marshall's using him as a pawn in his game.

“I'm not hungry, so let's get on with it. I brought what you want. Now I'd like to take my father back to the home.” She placed the white bag on the table and rose.

“Not so fast,” Marshall said, ice in his voice. “Your father is still eating. Is it good?” he asked Sam in a softer tone.

Amber wasn't fooled. Marshall obviously had more on his mind than her father's meal.

“Besides, I'm not finished with you yet,” he added coldly, proving her hunch correct.

Her stomach rolled, but she refused to let her panic show. She lowered herself back into her seat. “You got your money. What else could you possibly want?”

“You. Me. One more game.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I already told you I'm out.” Her voice rose to an unsettling pitch.

“You made my favorite meat loaf tonight?” Sam interrupted, from beside her. But he wasn't talking to Amber.

He was talking to Amber's mother, the woman he loved, and the days he returned to when he spoke at all. At times like this, he was having what the nurses called a bad day. Something—or in this case someone—had rattled him.

“It's pasta,” Amber said in a soothing voice.

She shot a frosty glare at Marshall.

“It was your tone that got to him. Don't blame me.” He held up both hands as if he had done nothing wrong.

Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth to keep the vile words inside her from spilling forward.

“One more job,” Marshall said pleasantly. “That hundred and fifty grand is my stake. I owe some nasty men two-fifty. Once I pay that back and I know
my legs and other body parts will remain intact, you can go and never see me again.”

She should only be so lucky. “And if I refuse?”

He patted Sam's hand. “Your dad and I go for a ride.” He leaned in closer to Amber and whispered in her ear, “And you never see him again.”

Amber knew she was cornered. But she wasn't giving up without going for whatever she could, first.

She snatched the money bag back. “Half now and half before we buy in tonight. I want to get my father situated and safe first.” She'd have to find another nursing home, she thought. One where Marshall had no access to him. She couldn't risk something like this ever happening again.

“Not a problem. When your father finishes eating, we'll go together. We'll take your father back, then you can go home and get cleaned up for tonight. I'll watch TV and wait, then we can head out, get a few drinks first to loosen up, and do our thing.” He smiled at her.

She forced a smile back.

In other words, she was screwed. He wasn't letting her out of his sight and she'd have no chance to contact Mike until this mess with Marshall was over. By that time, she doubted he'd ever want to hear from her again.

 

M
IKE HAD BEEN CONNED
. Hours later, after combing the coffee shops, restaurants and the casino of his
hotel, after he'd spoken to the few remaining hotel staff who'd been on duty last night, and after he'd spent the better part of the day scouring all the places he and Amber had visited together in the hopes of running into her again, Mike had to face the truth.

She was gone.

He still shook his head in disbelief. He'd acted like a gullible kid, not a trained cop who knew better than to pick up a strange woman, drink enough to dull all his senses except his hormones, marry her, share the combination to his safe with her and sleep with her. In that order.

He'd had a good buzz going, but he hadn't been completely intoxicated. He'd thought, really believed, he'd seen something honest in her eyes and felt something real between them.

If he was superstitious, he'd say that was the problem. He'd felt something for her, something he'd wanted to explore more deeply. And because he had, his father would say the damn curse had kicked in. He'd lost his fortune and his future love.

If
he were superstitious.

At the moment, though, he just felt damn stupid.

Once he got home, he'd have the resources to track Amber down. Until then, he settled for asking Jillian, back at the station in Boston, to run a check on the name Amber Rose from Vegas. A few hours later, Jillian reported back. All he knew was that there was no Amber Rose in the criminal system.
Either she'd been clean until she wiped out his hotel safe or she was
that good.

Any further information would have to wait. Mike wasn't about to explain about Amber to anyone else, a necessity if he wanted any cops in Vegas to do him the professional courtesy of digging into her past. That would mean sharing his stupidity. And he damn sure wasn't ready to do that. Not with strangers and not with the friends he'd come to Vegas with.

But he wasn't finished with
his wife.
Not by a long shot, he thought, fingering the marriage certificate on the table. The next time he had a few days off, he'd return to Vegas and do some digging on his own. He'd find Amber, if that was her real name, and get himself a quick explanation and an even quicker divorce. But both of those things depended on his finding her.

Unfortunately, he had to be in court first thing Monday. Amber Rose would have to wait.

 

W
ITH
A
MBER BY HIS SIDE
, Marshall used Mike's money to buy into the game, located in a penthouse suite at an upscale hotel. As Marshall exchanged Mike's money for chips, Amber tried to console herself with the thought that Mike had promised her that if he won at slots, half would be hers. So in reality she'd only stolen half his money. Borrowed would be a better term. But changing her words didn't ease her guilty conscience.

It was all Mike's money and she hadn't intended to take any of it. But she and her
partner
had an agreement. And if tonight went the way it was supposed to, she'd be able to pay Mike back every last cent and hopefully buy herself a second chance with him.

Marshall had his slick image going tonight. He'd greased back his hair and donned a white jacket so he'd look like Andy Garcia in
Ocean's Eleven,
at least in whatever mirror he viewed himself in. When Amber looked at him, she only saw a lying bastard.

“Since everyone's here, let's get started,” Marshall said.

Bobby Boyd, a used-car dealer from Texas with a ten-gallon hat and enough bluster for one hundred men, nodded. “Texas hold 'em, boys. No one beats King Bobby at his favorite game.”

He'd called himself King Bobby at least a dozen times since their initial introduction. Bobby Boyd owned a number of used-car dealerships throughout Texas or so he claimed along with the title of millionaire. Google would tell all…if she cared to find out. She didn't.

“Remember, little lady, if your boyfriend here wins, King Bobby will hook you up with your choice of one of the finest vehicles in all of Texas,” he said to Amber.

He let out a huge guffaw of laughter, presumably because nobody beat King Bobby at Texas hold 'em. Ergo, she'd never see one of his cars.

“Ain't my man sweet?” Emmy Lou, a Dolly Parton look-alike, only older, asked.

“He's a…king,” Amber managed to say with a smile.

Emmy Lou preened and hugged King Bobby tight. “Give me room, woman. The King needs to breathe if he's gonna win.”

What happened next passed in a blur of shuffling, dealing and big and little blinds. Amber needed to pay attention so she could signal Marshall, but she was having trouble focusing on anything but Emmy Lou. The woman had probably been beautiful once, even if it had been in an overdone way, but age and lifestyle had obviously taken their toll. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face lined and dry, makeup caked in the cracks, while her breasts drooped so low, her cleavage had long ago stopped being an asset. She appeared oblivious to all these facts as she clung to her man, one who obviously took her for granted.

Whether she was his permanent squeeze or his bimbo of the night, Amber didn't want to know. Either way, the woman's life was sad and pathetic. And as Amber looked from her own cleavage across to Emmy Lou's and met the other woman's red-rimmed eyes, she saw a glimpse of what her future would have been—would be—if she didn't stick to her plan to get away from Marshall as soon as this one last game ended.

“Whoo-wee! King Bobby caught himself a nine on the river!” Bobby swooped forward and gathered the pot of winnings from the middle of the table.