Lucky Streak (Lucky 2)

“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!”