Lucky Streak (Lucky 2)

She lay on his bed surrounded by cold hard cash.

“Amber?”

He still didn’t believe she was real, even as every emotion imaginable rushed through him, from desire to relief, shock to gratitude, curiosity back to desire again.

Until she spoke. “Hi, honey, I’m home.” She waved at him.

Anger, the emotion he should have felt first, finally emerged. “What the hell is going on?”

“I know you’re angry and you have every right to be, but before you say another word, look around me. Money. Granted, it isn’t all of it, in fact it’s half. Less cab money and airline fare, but I can explain—”

“Get dressed.” He stepped forward and began collecting the clothes she’d left scattered at the foot of the bed, tossing them at her. “I’ll meet you in the other room.”

He couldn’t think clearly when she was stark naked beneath his shirt, lying seductively in his bed. Memories of making love to her came at him from all sides and he needed his head on straight to deal with her rationally like the sober cop he was now, not the guy who’d rescued her in Vegas and then let her sucker him.

IT COULD HAVE GONE WORSE, Amber thought. She’d seen a flicker of desire in Mike’s gaze before he’d banked it in favor of his anger.

She could work with that flicker. Amber had one goal and one only—she wanted to get back to having a real life, one similar to her life before her father had grown ill. Mike and this sudden marriage offered her possibilities she wanted to explore more fully. And she wanted that chance.

Before he could let his emotions overcome him and refuse to deal with her at all, she slipped on her shoes and headed for the other room.

She found him, arms crossed, staring out the window onto the street below. Her heels clicked on the wood floor and he turned at the sound of her approach.

“I thought I told you to get dressed.”

She glanced down at her sandal-clad feet and the shirt that covered as much as any skirt and top would. “I am dressed.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He exhaled a frustrated sound. “Never mind.” He shifted his hands to his hips. “Go on. Explain.”

She followed his movement with her gaze and paused. “Would you mind taking off your gun first?”

He rolled his eyes and removed his gun, muttering under his breath the entire time. “It’s not like I’d shoot you,” he said finally.

“You look pretty upset, not that I blame you.”

He held up one hand. “Start at the beginning. It was a scam, right?”

“Wrong!” she said, wanting him to understand that from the beginning. “Everything that happened between us was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. And just as real. I had every intention of being there when you woke up. I’d made coffee and everything, but then I got a call on my cell pho

ne—”

“From who?”

She met his gaze. “Marshall.”

“Your ex-partner. The one who was manhandling you.”

She nodded. “He wasn’t happy you ran him off. All day long I’d had the feeling I was being followed,” she admitted.

“Yet you didn’t say anything.”

“You’d already confronted Marshall. I didn’t want you to have to deal with J.R., too. He’s Marshall’s right-hand man. I thought I saw him and so I ducked into the wedding chapel to get away.”

He exhaled a rough breath. “Go on.”

“Anyway, like I said, that morning, Marshall called my cell. He knew about the money you’d won, and our marriage. He said he’d taken my father from the nursing home and the only way I could get him back was to meet him and hand over the cash or else. I didn’t believe him at first so I hung up and called the home. They said Marshall signed my father out. I wanted my father back and I had no other option but to do as he said.”

He held out his hand. “Give me your cell phone.”