Lucky Streak

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Lucky Streak Page 16

by Carly Phillips


  “I don’t know what to say,” Mike said.

  “Beats me,” Amber said. But realizing Clara had genuine feelings for Edward allowed Amber’s feelings of betrayal to let up. But she was still upset she’d been played for a fool.

  Much the way Mike must have felt when he realized Amber had lied to him. For the first time, Amber not only knew what she’d done to him, she was able to empathize and feel his pain. She owed him an apology, not just for the omissions, but for getting angry when he hadn’t understood her so-called justification.

  For now though, she turned her attention back to Edward and Clara.

  “Honey, once you invited me to visit you here, I realized the Goddess had a larger plan at work for me. She’d sent you to my shop for a reason. We had a past—” she gestured between herself and Edward “—and I never lived up to my end of things. You were offering me another chance to right an old wrong,” Clara explained.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew Edward after I’d invited you?”

  “I was afraid you’d take back the invitation and I’d lose this second chance at our relationship.” Her eyes grew damp and misty at the prospect.

  Amber’s heart clenched as she finally accepted the other woman’s reasons.

  “We ain’t got no relationship!” Edward insisted before Amber could forgive her.

  “We shared a past,” Clara said firmly.

  Amber wasn’t sure she wanted to know what kind of past.

  “I promised to help you once, Eddie, and I mean to do it now!”

  “Eddie?” Amber repeated numbly.

  “Eddie?” Mike echoed. “Somebody’s going to have to tell me what exactly went on between you two and when.”

  Edward shook his head. “I ain’t telling you nothing about my personal life,” he said before storming off and heading back toward the lake.

  “I didn’t know he’d ever had a personal life,” Mike said, confusion and a whole lot more in his expression.

  “Why don’t we go inside and I’ll make us some tea,” Amber suggested.

  Amber needed to hear Clara’s explanation. And she definitely had to discuss Edward’s mental health with Mike. It was going to be a long night.

  MIKE SAT in his father’s kitchen, watching as Amber made herself at home. He’d grown up here, but his childhood memories weren’t the best. He’d lived in an armed camp before his mother had moved out, and the kitchen had never been a place of refuge.

  Until now, because Amber was here. Mike didn’t know what had gone on between his father and Clara Deveaux, but clearly something important had transpired. He was glad Amber would be beside him when he found out what.

  Amber made tea for Clara and herself, and without asking, she poured Mike a cola, his preferred choice in soft drinks. She knew better than to offer him herbal tea. And though he could use something stronger than soda, he always made sure there was no alcohol in his father’s house. He had a healthy fear of the possibility of alcohol abuse in addition to his father’s other issues. Thank goodness, to his knowledge that had never been a problem. Mike intended to keep it that way.

  Once they were all seated, Amber met Clara’s gaze. “I didn’t know about your relationship with Edward when I asked you here. That makes his distress my fault.”

  Oddly, Mike didn’t blame Amber for trying to help Edward. But he did need to know everything. “Why don’t we start at the beginning,” Mike said to Clara. “How do you know my father, and what happened between the two of you?” he asked.

  Clara sighed. “It was seven years ago. I’d just opened my shop and Edward walked in. He was scruffy and a little grumpy, everything I shouldn’t be attracted to—and yet I was drawn to him.” Clara met Amber’s gaze, probably searching for female understanding.

  And maybe forgiveness, Mike realized. After all, as Amber said, she’d met and invited Clara here without knowing about the other woman’s agenda.

  “Did Edward…um…look different seven years ago?” Amber asked.

  Mike tried not to laugh. He could understand why she’d wonder about Clara’s attraction to the wild-looking man Mike called his father.

  Clara smiled. “He looked the same. He’s an attractive man and all that bluster covers a wounded nature.”

  Clearly she saw something in Edward that the rest of the world, even his own son, couldn’t. A part of Mike always feared digging too deep because really understanding Edward meant that maybe, Mike wasn’t too far from the madness himself.

  Clara took a sip of tea, then said, “Edward came to my shop the first time because he wanted to find ways to ward off the curse, but after a while, he came back just to see me.”

  “Edward pursued you?” Amber asked, surprised.

  Mike was glad she was asking the questions. For a cop who specialized in interrogation, he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize anything that might lead to more intimate knowledge of his father.

  “He didn’t pursue me directly. But a woman knows when a man is interested. When he cares.”

  Amber nodded. “I agree. A woman knows.” Her soft gaze slid to Mike’s and an uncomfortable lump formed in his throat.

  “Edward and I had much in common and I promised to help him overcome his fears,” Clara continued. “But he came into my life at a tough time. My father had just arrived in the States from Jamaica. My mother is American and raised me here, but my father arrived with a friend of his, planning to marry me off.”

  “You were how old?” Amber asked.

  “Forty. Too old to be told what to do. But we’re never too old to want our parents’ approval, now, are we?”

  Another telling comment, Mike thought.

  “I suppose not,” Amber replied. “So what happened?”

  “I did as my father asked and went on a date with this man, but I had no intention of marrying him, so I kept it from Edward.” Clara glanced down.

  Mike stiffened. If his father had come out of his shell, extended himself enough to reach out to her and she’d hurt him…He tensed, waiting. “What happened?” he asked, his voice harsh.

  “The next morning, the gentleman brought flowers to my shop.”

  “And Edward was there,” Amber guessed, shaking her head in disappointment.

  Clara nodded. “My father was there, as well, making vocal assumptions about my future.”

  A knot formed in Mike’s stomach as he pictured his father’s reaction. Just as he’d taken the first steps to letting go of the curse, fate had knocked him down once more.

  “Damn,” Mike muttered.

  Amber covered his hand with hers. “Do you remember this time in your father’s life?”

  He thought back. His parents had divorced ten years ago. “Seven years ago? I was twenty years old and in college. I didn’t come home often and when I did, I rarely came to Dad’s house,” he admitted, looking away.

  Amber squeezed his hand tighter. Mike tried not to blame himself for not wanting to be around his father, but when something like this happened, he felt the kick of guilt strongly. Eventually he’d grown up and accepted his father, failings and all, along with his responsibilities as an only child. He loved Edward and didn’t blame him for not being there for him as a real father.

  But clearly, if this woman had broken Edward’s heart, he would have become bitter and angry and even more entrenched in his negative beliefs. And Mike hadn’t been there to help him through it.

  “How did Edward handle the situation?” Amber asked, continuing the conversation.

  Clara expelled a long breath. “He didn’t say a word. Just walked out and took my heart with him.”

  “Did you go after him?” Amber asked.

  “I cleared things up with the other gentleman and my father, but then yes, of course I went after him. But he wouldn’t listen. I called. He changed and unlisted his number. I wrote. The letters were returned unanswered.”

  “That I remember.” Mike took his first sip of soda, his mouth dry. “My mother wanted to re
ach him, to tell him about her remarrying, but he’d changed his number. She was upset that she had to drive out here to tell him in person.”

  “You need to know, I didn’t give up right away. I gave him some time and dropped by a few times, but he always refused to answer the door. There was no talking to the man.” Clara spread her hands in front of her, expressing her useless feelings.

  Amber wasn’t surprised. “So seven years passed.”

  Clara nodded. “I never met another man who affected me the same way. And then you walked into my shop and I took it as a sign. It was time.”

  Amber pinched the bridge of her nose. This story had been heart wrenching, on so many levels, she thought, glancing at Mike, who was sitting beside her, learning about the reasons for his father’s mental deterioration firsthand.

  “You decided it was time to what?” Amber asked Clara.

  “I had to right the wrong I did Edward all those years ago. I had to know if we could possibly have a future.”

  Her words echoed inside Amber, rendering her unable to stay angry. Suddenly Amber viewed herself and Clara as kindred spirits, two women who wanted the same basic thing from life.

  Amber sighed. “I wish you’d told me the truth so I could have prepared him.” Or at least prepared herself. She bit the inside of her cheek before speaking what was on her mind, too aware of the hurt man sitting beside her. “But since I’ve kept a few secrets of my own lately, I can’t hold it against you,” she told Clara.

  Without warning, Mike rose from his seat. “I appreciate the explanation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my father.”

  Heart in her throat, Amber watched him go. She glanced at Clara and forced a smile. She and this woman had more in common than she’d first thought. From lies and omissions, to hoping for a future with a good man, to the Corwin men and therefore their curse, Amber and Clara shared a bond.

  Time would tell which, if either of them, would triumph.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EDWARD REFUSED to come into the house or talk to Mike about that woman. Mike didn’t know what surprised him more, that his father had at one time stepped out of his self-imposed isolation and reached out to Clara Deveaux or the fact that the woman so obviously still had an impact on Edward now. At a loss over how to handle his father, Mike retreated inside the house where he and Amber ate dinner together, a meal she’d cooked for them by herself.

  They shared comfortable conversation, Amber catching Mike up with what had gone on since she’d arrived in Stewart, and Mike filling her in about work and his partner’s wedded bliss. A sense of normalcy settled over him and he realized he enjoyed the companionship, something he’d never really had before.

  Every time he looked at Amber or inhaled her unique scent, the sexual attraction kicked him hard and he couldn’t ignore it. Especially now that he’d given himself permission to indulge.

  Today she wore a loose pink T-shirt with a low scoop neck and a pair of dark denim jeans. Barefoot, her red-painted toenails peeked out from beneath the hem of her pants. And her curls flowed around her shoulders, sexy and disheveled. She looked more delicious than the meal and he had a hard time keeping his mind on the food and conversation—instead of the dessert he hoped they’d share later on in bed.

  When they finished eating, she filled a plate for Edward, covered it with tinfoil, and left it for him on the counter. “Maybe he’ll eat when he comes inside.”

  Mike doubted it. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” he said to Amber, not wanting to put a damper on her good intentions.

  “Not that we’ll ever know for sure.” Amber laughed. Obviously she already had his father’s number.

  Edward would never admit to appreciating anything. But Mike had noticed Amber’s caring nature and surely his father would, too.

  Together they brought the dishes over to the sink. She quickly rinsed and put them in the dishwasher while he cleaned the table.

  When she finished, she leaned against the counter, looking like a woman with something on her mind.

  He wasn’t in the mood for deep conversation. He’d had enough of that today.

  “Are you upset with me for inviting Clara here?” she asked.

  “Am I acting like I’m mad?” he asked.

  Because he wasn’t. Surprisingly, he didn’t blame Amber for Clara’s intrusion. After all, Amber had been duped into believing Clara was a stranger.

  And Amber had forgiven Clara because, as Amber had so rightly pointed out earlier, she’d done her share of duping.

  “No, but I sure stirred things up around here,” Amber said, her eyes growing soft. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were angry.”

  “Stirring things up seems to be something you do well.” He couldn’t hold back a grin. “Maybe I’m getting used to it.”

  Her eyes lit up in obvious shock and more than a hint of pleasure. “Michael Corwin, are you teasing me?” she asked.

  He thought for a minute then said, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “Can I ask what caused the change?”

  He shook his head, adamant about not getting into anything that could lead to an argument. “How about you just accept it and enjoy, instead?”

  Her lips turned up in a smile. “I can do that.” In one smooth motion, she looped her arms around his neck and placed a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

  He liked her like this, compliant and willing, soft and easy in his arms. While he had her, he wasn’t about to let her go. He slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, while tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging lightly.

  She responded with a sweet moan, arching her back and pressing her chest against his. The softness of her body contrasted with the harder pucker of her nipples beneath her shirt and he could swear steam rose between them.

  “Let’s move this to the bedroom,” he suggested, unwilling to wait another minute.

  At the sound of Mike’s voice, Amber stepped back and suddenly realized where she was—in Edward Corwin’s kitchen. “The bedroom sounds good,” she murmured.

  He agreed with a low rumble from deep in his throat.

  Her body agreed, too. More than anything, she wanted to satisfy the need he always created inside her. “But we can’t continue what we started.”

  The words didn’t come easily and the startled look on his face would have been priceless if it didn’t hurt so badly.

  And Mike wasn’t laughing. “Why not?”

  She gripped the counter behind her. “Because we’re in your father’s house. It’s disrespectful, for one thing.”

  His eyes opened wide. “You were willing earlier! And we’re married, for heaven’s sake!”

  “I know.” More and more, she was beginning to think she wanted to stay that way, for more reasons than just the physical. That was why she’d changed her mind about sleeping with him now. She wanted to be smart about every move she made. “I just wouldn’t be comfortable doing…it…here.”

  Throughout the day, she’d come to some conclusions she hoped would prove valuable in the long run. Mike had no problem resisting her in bed. Sexually they were one hundred percent compatible. But it was the other areas of their marriage that needed strengthening. She couldn’t work on those if she succumbed to his charm in bed while allowing him to erect barriers everywhere else.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw and he folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me you don’t plan on sleeping in separate rooms while we’re here?”

  She shook her head, glad he sounded so frustrated at the notion. “Of course not. We’ll sleep in the same room, in the same bed. We just won’t have sex,” she said, lowering her voice on the last word. “Relationships are about more than the physical.”

  He grit his teeth, clearly disagreeing. “And how do you think we’ll get through the night?” He reached out and stroked her cheek, his voice tense with suppressed sexual tension.

  Tension she felt, as well. But as much as she desired him, a short-term fix wouldn’t h
elp her in the long run.

  “We’ll talk,” she whispered in his ear, seductive yet deliberately playful. “We’ll share intimate secrets and get to know each other better.” She brushed her lips across his to silence any objection.

  Then, taking his hand, she led her husband to bed.

  IN THE BEDROOM, Mike found himself caught in a trap of his own making. He had taken the weekend off from work, a spur-of-the-moment decision he’d made after seeing his father’s reaction to Clara Deveaux. He’d sensed a storm was brewing and he wanted to be there to help his father weather it.

  But once again, irony bit him in the ass. Here he was, with his wife, having made the decision to sleep with her now and worry about leaving her when the time came. Didn’t it figure that she’d decide to hold back?

  She wanted them to get to know each other, he thought, frustrated in more ways than one.

  Maybe if he fell asleep—or pretended to—before Amber came out of the bathroom, he could avoid what was sure to be a drawn-out conversation, not to mention the ache of being constantly turned on as he lay beside her. Unable to act on the need that had been eating him alive since their encounter in the kitchen.

  And though he’d like to think she’d purposely led him on, to tease him in a minx sort of way, what he’d glimpsed in her eyes prevented him from thinking so little of her. She wasn’t flirting only to make him suffer. She was as drawn to him as he was to her. As carried away as he’d been. Only she’d come to her senses, out of respect for his father.

  Which would have impressed him if not coupled with her need to talk. The female term for bonding emotionally.

  He punched his pillow and rolled over, away from the door, a minute before he sensed her presence in the doorway. He knew she was there before she said a word. The fresh scent from her shower permeated the air around him and the light padding of her bare feet had sounded against the floor. His already-strung-tight body hardened even more…though he knew he wouldn’t be getting any tonight.

 

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