Carly Phillips - Lucky Streak

She knew what she had to do. Amber had been brave once today. She looked at Mike, the long line of his back and his stiff shoulders, and knew she’d have to gather her courage one more time.

Because she wasn’t leaving him without putting it all on the line, without taking the ultimate gamble. She drew a deep breath. “Mike?”

He turned to face her.

“You already know I’m a gambler, right?”

He met her gaze, his expression confused. He was obviously unsure of her point. “Right.”

She stepped up to him and tipped her head back to meet his eyes, to put herself on some kind of even footing. “We met in Vegas and gambled on marriage and the slots, so I guess it’s only fitting I’m standing here now, gambling on you.”

“Amber…”

“No. Don’t interrupt and don’t panic. Just pretend you’re back in Vegas and willing to take a chance.” Her heart squeezed tight in her chest, but she pushed on. “You already know how great we are in bed. Or out of it.” She pointed to the floor where they’d made love and laughed.

He didn’t.

She knew then she didn’t have a prayer. But her father hadn’t raised a quitter. “It isn’t just that we started off strong sexually, though hey, that’s a bonus. And we also like the same TV shows.” She searched his face for a glimmer of emotion, but all she found was the wall she’d come back to in Boston.

“Look,” she continued anyway. “Somewhere between you rescuing me from Marshall the first time and now, we’ve discovered something good. Fun. Something that could be real and lasting if we gave it a chance.” She reached for him, but his stiff posture never changed. She let her hand fall uselessly to her side.

Her heart, which minutes before had been full of hope, seemed to be shriveling into a small ball of nothing. Pain shot through her, but she forced herself to go on.

“Mike, even if we can’t have anything lasting-” Her voice nearly cracked on the words. “Can you at least find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving you in Vegas? Taking the money? Knowing me the way you do now, can we at least part as friends?”

The word nearly killed her. Friendship was the last thing she wanted from him, but it was better than the disgust he’d felt for the woman she’d once been.

He cleared his throat and the pain in his eyes matched the hurt inside her. “Amber, being with you has been-”

She raised her hand in the air, cutting him off, unable to bear hearing more. “Please don’t say anything else.”

“I have to. Because you need to know that I do care about you.” His expression was tight and tortured, his eyes bleak and devastated.

Yet whatever pain she glimpsed inside him didn’t change the fact that he was obviously going to end things. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the curse. I won’t believe it.” She tried to laugh, but couldn’t.

“Of course not. That’s my father’s job. He’s the one who ran away from life.” Mike glanced away from her.

“And what are you doing, if not running away?” she accused, trying to pull him back.

He shook his head. “It’s not the same. You see how my father is. That’s how he’s been for as long as I can remember.” Mike paused and cleared his throat.

Amber caught the fullness in his voice and didn’t push him further. She had to let him tell her in his own time.

“I couldn’t live with the ups and downs he caused when I was a kid. I hated it. So my mother took me away, making sure I had stability. I need that stability.”

Amber swallowed hard. She’d understood his feelings about Edward, his fears about living with someone whose actions and moods he couldn’t count on from one minute to another. It was the way she’d felt living with her father after his diagnosis.

“I can give you that,” she said softly. “Maybe I haven’t so far, but once things are settled in my life, that’s exactly what I want, too.” She touched his face, turning him toward her. “I lived the same way once. I had a steady job I loved working for the Crown Chandler Hotels and I was great at what I did. I want you to see that part of me!”

“I want that, too, but it can’t work. We’re different, you and I. You said it yourself in Vegas. You need that thrill every once in a while and frankly, I don’t. The ups and downs you bring with you…they’re just not how I want to live.”

Amber’s heart beat hard and a sick feeling settled in her stomach. “I don’t need those kind of ups and down. I was talking about how you make me feel. That’s all the thrill I need.”

“You like unpredictability, you thrive on it. I saw how easily you left me in Vegas. No matter what your reasons were, you jumped first and explained later.”

She pulled in a deep breath and tried to think. He was right. Abandoning him in Vegas and taking his money had ripped the foundation out from under any relationship they might have had. “I would never do that again.”

But she already saw in his bleak expression, her words didn’t matter. Her past actions did.

“You don’t think so now. But you don’t know what the future holds.” He grabbed her hands. “Being with you, though it’s fun and exhilarating, it’s also like a roller-coaster ride.”

She remembered his words in Vegas all too well. “I really don’t like roller coasters. In fact, I hate them.” And hearing them now applied to her was like a punch in the stomach.

She stiffened and turned away. “I get it, Mike. We both know how you feel about roller coasters.” She paused and forced the pain back down her throat before continuing. “It’s too bad though, because we could have had it all.”

Gathering her pride, she turned and headed for the bedroom to pack. “Make sure you call the psychiatrist for your father,” she said before closing herself alone in the room.

She needed to get the hell out of Stewart and let Mike Corwin return to his safe, certain, stable life.

The one without her in it.

KING BOBBY PRIDED himself on being as good as his word. Unless something happened to change the circumstances during which he gave it. He’d been planning on leaving town and heading back to Texas. Yes sirree Bob, he had. He already knew there wasn’t a hotel room available in this town or any surrounding it thanks to the press.

But then, as he was walking on back to his car, the King felt it again. A presence. A distinct feeling of being shadowed.

More than once, he’d turned back around only to find no one behind him, but King Bobby knew something was off. So he wandered for a while, finally ducking out of sight and peering out to see who was there.

Hot damn! Marshall, the lying, cheatin’ SOB!

Unbelievable, King Bobby thought as he weighed his options. He could grab him now, but he had a feeling the coward would scream bloody murder before King Bobby ever found out where his cash was. Or he let him go and turned the tail on the weasel, following Marshall instead.

King Bobby had no idea why Marshall would be following him, but it had to have something to do with the pretty filly in denial about her ex-partner’s feelings.

Between the two, one of them had the King’s cash. All King Bobby had to do was let things play out. Even if it meant going back on his word and spending more time in this rinky-dink town.

MIKE SAT in front of the television in his father’s family room scarfing down a microwaved bowl of mac and cheese, wondering why the hell he felt so damn bad. He’d accomplished everything he wanted. Well, almost everything. Amber was safe and out of his life, he was single again-or at least, he would be-just the way he liked it. And if he didn’t have her half of the hundred fifty grand, who cared? It wasn’t the money that had been important to him anyway.

Then what was?

Before he could reflect on that question, he flicked on the television set and turned the channel to the local news, hoping for some sort of diversion from his thoughts.

“And now, here is our own Cathy Carmichael, reporting live outside the Diner on Main Street in the small coastal town of Stewart, where reporters have flocked seeking information on disgraced Olympic hopeful Jason Corwin.”

“Oh, shit,” Mike muttered. So much for diversion.

“To date, there hasn’t been any sign of Jason Corwin, but his uncle Edward was spotted inside the diner with a lady friend. But that’s news, too, due to the infamous Corwin curse and the fact that Edward Corwin has been a loner…” The reporter’s words droned on, but Mike didn’t hear the rest of what she said.

He was glued to the sight of Edward and Clara trying to make their way through the throng of reporters. His father appeared pale, hanging on to Clara’s arm for dear life.

Suddenly Gabrielle appeared, looking beautiful as ever in a flowing dress that resembled one of Clara’s outfits. A rosy, determined glow stained her cheeks. “Leave him alone!” she yelled to the crowd, pushing her way through.

When his cousin Derek got a load of this, he was going to hit the roof, Mike thought. He rose, wanting to go help, but needing to see how things played out here first. He’d never get there in time anyway.

“What a treat! Our local celebrity author, Gabrielle Corwin. Have you heard from Jason? Is he guilty of doping? Where is he hiding out?” the reporter asked.

As she spoke, Mike noticed Clara led Edward a few steps away from the large group of people. Thank heavens for that woman. Mike couldn’t believe his own thoughts, but they were true.

Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed at the reporter. “My standard answer would be no comment, however your stupid questions warrant a different response. Jason Corwin has never done drugs in his life. And if you did more than make your money off of this town, if you knew this town, you’d be rallying behind him and not hurling stupid questions that sound like accusations!”

Mike chuckled. “Go, Gabrielle,” he said, proud of her.

The way he’d been proud of Amber when she stood up to his uncle Thomas to protect Edward. Like a woman loyal to her man, Mike realized, the thought coming unbidden. He rolled his head back and forth, seeking relief from the building tension.

“Does that mean you’ve spoken with Jason Corwin since the scandal broke?” the reporter asked, nonplussed at Gabrielle’s outburst.

“Where is he?” another reporter asked, pushing the microphone into Gabrielle’s face.

Another reporter shouted yet a different question and suddenly Gabrielle was being jostled from all sides.

Mike hoped she wasn’t wearing those stupid high heels. She’d break an ankle trying to remain on her feet.

“Everyone, step back!” a woman shouted.

Amber.

Mike bent down to get a better look at the screen. Sure enough, Amber had joined Gabrielle, shoving reporters out of the way. “Move it. Back off. The Corwins have no more comments!”

Gabrielle shot an appreciative glance at Amber.

“Who are you?” a reporter asked.

Amber glanced away. “Just a family spokesperson.”

“Just a family spokesperson?” Mike asked aloud. “What the hell? You’re my wife,” he yelled at the screen.

The sound of his voice and his vehemence took him off guard. Where had such possessiveness come from? Hadn’t he just sent her packing? So why did her minimizing her position in the family bother him so damn much?

“Just one more question,” a reporter asked as he sidled up to Amber from behind. He tripped and fell headlong into Gabrielle.

Amber pulled Gabrielle out of the way before the man’s big body could fall against her. “I said back off! She’s pregnant!” Amber shouted, and clapped her hand over her mouth, obviously regretting her words.

As far as Mike knew, nobody in the family had been aware of that fact. Except Amber.

Mike shook his head and reached for his cell phone to call his cousin, then grabbed his keys. He had to get to town before his father, standing in the background, went crazy over the news. And he needed to thank Amber for protecting the people he loved.

“YOU’RE SUCH AN ASS,” Marshall said to himself as he sat in a seedy bar on the water in a town named Perkins. He couldn’t find Amber, even though she was like a needle in a very small haystack. Somebody ought to have seen her and yet…nada.

It was his own damn fault. He’d lost track of Amber after she’d left the diner with that cop husband of hers. Since Marshall couldn’t risk being seen, he’d decided to follow King Bobby, figuring the big man would be in touch with Amber Rose again soon. But for now, following the Texan was useless. He’d somehow found himself a motel on the outskirts of town, probably paying off a reporter while Marshall was left biding his time.