Get Lucky (11 page)

Chapter Six

Marc stepped out of the steamy bathroom, wondering what London might think of him leaving a change of clothes at her house. He’d donned his jeans but opted not to put his shirt back on. Walking barefoot into her living room, he joined her on the couch, where she sat curled in the corner, wearing an extra-large T-shirt, although definitely not big enough for him. It fell past her thighs, and her bare legs and feet were tucked underneath her.

“The snow is coming down really hard,” she said, nodding at the weather report on the TV.

“Are you inviting me to stay the night?” He unfolded an afghan that was on the back of her chair as he sat next to her.

London helped spread it open and covered her legs before relaxing against him. “It would probably be a good idea. Knowing you, I’d end up having to get dressed and pull you out of a ditch before you made it to the lodge.”

“Are you cool with me staying?” he asked seriously. “If we’re discussing safety, I’m sure I could make it to a motel here in town.”

She leaned her head against his chest and relaxed further as he pulled her against him and cradled her in his arms. London relaxed her head against his arm and stared up at him.

“I guess you could sleep on the couch,” she said slowly.

“Is that where you want me to sleep?”

She studied him with her pretty black eyes. “No,” she said after a moment. “I want you in bed with me.”

London adjusted herself, shifting to watch TV. A few minutes later her breathing slowed, and when his phone rang she didn’t move. Marc managed to get it off the coffee table without waking her.

Glancing at the number, he answered, “Hello.”

“I just remembered it’s an hour later there as the phone was ringing,” Jake said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“You didn’t wake anyone,” Marc said, keeping his voice quiet as he gently stroked London’s hair. She moaned softly, stretched under the afghan, and remained relaxed with her head on his lap.

“Dad and Mom told you about the action figures we found in the truck?” his brother asked.

“Yeah, I heard about it.”

“I heard you got a similar gift. Is your lady hot?”

He remembered damn near suffocating inside her soaked pussy. “Yeah, she is,” he admitted, unable to see enough of her face to tell if her eyes were opened or not. “Did you call to get a rundown?”

“You can fill me in on all of the nasty details later. I need to talk to you. Is this a good time?” The serious edge in Jake’s tone made it clear he wasn’t calling for girlfriend advice. Not that any of the women Jake saw ever got far enough to rate the label. Jake played them and left them. Maybe Marc should ask how Jake always kept it casual.

“What’s wrong?” Marc asked, doubting any advice his brother might offer on how to enjoy everything a woman offered without losing his heart would sit well with him.

“They told you about the pictures we received of them while they were on that cruise, right?”

“Yeah.”

“More pictures came earlier tonight. I was the only one here. They were packaged the same as the others, looked like they came through the mail.”

“What do you mean they looked like they came through the mail?” Marc thought of the package he’d found on London’s porch floor. There was no return address, yet it had postage on it. Her mailbox was at the top of her porch steps. It didn’t make sense that the package wasn’t in the mailbox but instead on the porch floor.

“There were stamps and it’s gone through the mail, but it wasn’t in the mailbox.”

“What were the pictures of?” He stared at London’s profile, her face tilted toward his jeans and her hair flowing down her back. She didn’t move when he ran his hand down the back of her head, but her breathing was quieter than it had been. If she was listening she apparently didn’t want to interrupt his conversation.

“Man, they were of Mom and Natasha. Shots of them in parking lots and also in the mall. They were taken while they were out shopping. I remember Mom was wearing the blouse she had on in the pictures. Someone is following her around and it’s really starting to piss me off.”

Marc lifted his gaze, staring at the wall across the room, and fought for a calming breath. He felt the rage surge to life in him, causing all his muscles to tighten as he fought to remain on the couch and stay cool. He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, let’s talk this through,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment and forcing the frustration growing inside him to calm. He understood Jake’s anger. They’d lost their mom once, and now that she was back no one would ever take her from them again. “Who was it addressed to?” Marc asked, wanting all the details.

“It just says ‘Kings’ and then our home address. The mailing address is handwritten, kind of a flowing cursive, like a lady wrote it. It’s the same handwriting used on the first package.”

“They want you to know they’re coming from the same person,” Marc guessed.

“What I was thinking,” Jake agreed. “They’re using a black Sharpie, or some kind of pen like that. Both sets of pictures were sent in a large manila envelope, and instead of licking the seal closed they used a piece of clear tape.” He spoke as if he was examining the package while describing it.

“So we can conclude they’re coming from the same person. What about the stamps?”

“Not much to say. They aren’t individual stamps but a postage stamp, as if they mailed it from their post office.”

“But no return address?”

“Nope.”

Marc’s entire body ached as if he’d had his muscles clenched for hours instead of a few minutes. “And all that’s in the envelope are the pictures?” He needed to see them. There were other things they could tell, possibly how close whoever took the pictures was to Mom and Natasha, the quality of the shots. The brothers needed to rule out the possibility of Photoshop.

God, maybe he should end his vacation early. It might save his heart if he and London parted ways sooner rather than later. She was getting attached to him, too. They would start something neither of them could finish and it wasn’t right, or fair, to either of them. Not to mention, if Mom or any of his family was in danger, he needed to be there to protect them.

“Not this time,” Jake said.

“Huh?” Marc blinked, shoving his thoughts out of his head before he made a final decision.

“There was a note. It said: ‘Say good-bye to your mother and father. You’re never going to see them again.’”

Marc almost leapt off the couch.

“What’s wrong?” London murmured, shifting against him and slowly pushing herself to a sitting position. Her eyes looked sleepy and her hair was tousled around her face. She was so damn beautiful and at the moment appeared rather confused. Apparently she had been asleep, which was a good thing.

“Nothing. Sorry,” he said, standing and walking around the coffee table.

“You aren’t alone?” Jake asked. “Wait. Isn’t it almost midnight out there? Damn, Bro, it’s not like you to keep them hanging around like that.” Jake’s usual playful tone was gone. He might have had more time to allow the meaning behind the message sent with the pictures to sink in, but he was obviously upset enough about it to call Marc.

“I’m with London,” Marc told Jake.

“Who are you talking to?” London asked.

“My brother, Jake.”

“God, she sounds hot as hell,” Jake said.

“She is,” Marc said. “I’ll get back with you on all of this,” he added. “Keep me posted and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Man, you need to come home,” Jake said.

“I know.” He stared at London, wishing more than anything he could keep her in his life.

“Now is not the right time to get hung up on some chick,” his brother snapped.

Marc hung up on him. Anything that came out of his mouth at that moment would let Jake know where Marc’s feelings were headed, and he didn’t need his brother’s shit. Also, London was staring at him, with a confused, adorable sleepy expression on her face. He wouldn’t worry or upset her, not when their night had been going so perfectly.

Putting his phone back on the coffee table, he bent down for the rest of his clothes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, combing her hair away from her face with her fingers.

“I’d forgotten,” he began. “When I first got here there was a package for you. It was on the floor of your porch, and so I put it in your mailbox. I didn’t remember until now and figured I would get it for you.”

London almost flew off the couch. “You don’t need to go get it,” she said, blocking him from grabbing his boots. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to get dressed and go out there where it’s freezing. It will still be there in the morning.”

He swore she looked frantic and hated that he’d pulled her out of such a relaxed sleep the way he had. Stroking the hair on the side of her head, he leaned into her and kissed her.

“Fine. You win,” he said, and kissed her again until she relaxed in his arms. “Let’s go to bed.”

*   *   *

London rolled over and turned off her alarm at five thirty the next morning. It was strange waking up with such a large body taking over half her bed. When she needed to get up, though, moving away from Marc when he was so relaxed and warm and as snuggly as she’d imagined he would be was almost more than she could do. Rolling into him, she stretched against all that muscle. He immediately rolled into her, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her to his side.

London never slept naked. Living alone for so many years had her in the habit of wearing a nightshirt to sleep in. The shirt didn’t last long when she and Marc went to bed, though. Their sex in the living room had been as hot as the slow lovemaking session they’d had before falling asleep.

She stared into his relaxed features, how his mouth formed a straight line; his long, straight nose and dark lashes, fanning just under his eyes, made him so beautiful. His incredible size and all that muscle, yet not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. Then there were the small scars. She’d discovered a few more than just the one on his jaw. There was one on his right bicep that almost looked like a burn. It wasn’t new, though. Although she couldn’t see it right now, he had a thicker scar on the side of his right thigh. She imagined them war wounds and wondered what kind of warrior Marc King was.

As her mind drifted around thoughts of Marc, their time together, him being at her home when she got off work, it all seemed so comfortable and perfect. But life wasn’t comfortable and perfect; at least it never had been. Daring to think that might change scared the crap out of her.

Why couldn’t she have a happy, settled life like everyone else? He lay here next to her and he’d wanted to stay. London ran her fingertips over his muscular chest, feeling how soft and warm and incredibly strong he was. Marc was a rock, stability in all that was crazy.

London squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to get lost in a fantasy that probably would never be reality. Marc never suggested he would stay in Colorado. Her thoughts drifted to last night, while lying on his lap and him talking on the phone. She’d drifted off to sleep, but when his tone had changed and his body tensed London lay there awake listening. Not that she understood most of what she heard, other than whatever it was pissed him off.

She knew he was talking to his brother, Jake. Apparently his entire family knew about her. That was a hard one to dissect. Would Marc share with his family information about any woman with whom he was spending time? There were some families who were cozy like that, although it had been her experience that those kinds of families only existed on TV.

When he’d mentioned pictures in a package, London had almost fallen off the couch. There was a noticeable tension in the conversation, although she got the impression Marc got along with his brother. Hell, he came from a perfect family, all of them open and caring about one another. London would never fit into a picture like that.

She remembered Marc telling her he’d found a package at her front doorstep after he got off the phone. His determined nature was hard to fight. She’d damn near panicked when he’d started going after her mail. If he saw the pictures, he’d want to know who they were. It would lead to her having to tell him a really tall tale about her parents or surrender the truth. London didn’t want to lie to him, and she couldn’t let him know she came from a family of crooks.

Marc tightened his grip around her when she tried sliding out of bed.

“Marc, I need to get ready for work,” she whispered, touching his collarbone and feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart. It would be too damn easy to fall back asleep in his arms. She couldn’t be late to work, though, especially after Cliff weirding out on her. And she couldn’t allow herself to get used to how wonderful this felt. “Marc, please,” she tried again, running her hand over his smooth skin to his neck. “You’ve got to let me out of bed.”

He grunted, lifted his leg, and draped it over both of hers, trapping her further. She was almost crushed under his long, powerful body. Damn! What a way to go.

“Are you going to keep me here all day?” she asked, trying for a teasing tone. “I have ways of making you talk, you know,” she whispered, moving her hand down between the two of them.

London gripped his cock, wrapping her fingers around his warm, silky smooth shaft. Immediately it hardened and grew in her hand, lengthening and throbbing as she began a gentle stroke. Marc growled and his lashes fluttered. Her breath caught in her throat when he moved again, this time grabbing her leg, lifting it, and easing himself into place.

There was no way he was that asleep and able to shift into position that easily.

“Marc,” she complained, even as her pussy began throbbing with anticipation. “You aren’t playing fair.”

It was either another grunt or a laugh. London didn’t have time to determine which when her sleeping giant came to life, cupping her ass and adjusting her again so he could slip deep inside her.

“Oh God,” she moaned, forced to let go of his cock as it filled her completely.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Marc’s voice was rough with sleep.

“Morning,” she said, no longer having the will to fight him as he slowly made love to her.

It was easy. It was perfect. There was a relaxed, comfortable sensation making love to Marc. Every time they fucked each other it was exactly what she needed. This morning there were no demands, no need to speak, just pure satisfaction that left her tingling and in a wonderful mood when she finally crawled out from under the warm blankets.

London stood in the shower when she realized they hadn’t used a condom. For a moment her heart froze, creating a tightness in her chest and making it very hard to breathe. She was on the pill. Getting pregnant wasn’t the issue.

In all the years she’d been sexually active, London had never had sex without a condom. Although she figured someday, if the right man ever came along, and they settled down into being a couple, they probably wouldn’t use condoms. It wasn’t a part of her future she thought a lot about though. That would be a time when she knew a man very, very well. Not only did she not know Marc well, she never would. Their relationship had no hope of a future.

Had Marc intentionally made love to her without a condom? Was he letting her know he wanted a commitment?

London climbed out of the shower, having forgotten to wash her hair. Which was the last time she would allow herself to become so distracted.

“How long until you have to leave for work?” Marc asked, handing her coffee when she traipsed into the kitchen after her frustrating shower. One glance at Marc looking so at ease in her kitchen and she knew they’d passed the point of a painless good-bye.

He was back in the clothes he came over in the night before but had managed to clean up pretty good. His easy smile and the way he brushed her hair behind her ear showed he was a morning person. London returned the smile, wishing he would start displaying some kind of trait that didn’t appeal to her.

“I get there around seven thirty, so soon,” she said, glancing past him at the clock on her microwave.

“Then I guess making you breakfast will have to wait for another day.”

“Breakfast, huh?” Maybe she could count that against him. “I don’t usually do breakfast,” she told him.

Marc cupped her chin, tilting her head and kissing her. He took his time with it, easing her mouth open and then making love to her with his tongue. He was shattering her reserve, making her fall quick and hard for him. There were rules. Most of them she created. London had made it twenty-five years honoring these rules unconditionally. In just under two weeks Marc had caused her to break every one of them. When would the regret kick in? She knew the answer to that one. As soon as he left.

“That’s because you haven’t ever had one of my breakfasts,” he murmured against her mouth.

London shook her head, unable to keep from smiling, and backed up from him. “There’s probably time for you to take a quick shower if you want.”

Space would help, London decided, as the shower sounded in the other room. She finished dressing, slipped into her boots, and headed out to her front porch. Maybe even the cold weather would do some good. And damn, it was cold. January in Aspen was consistent. There wasn’t any getting around it. Resting her hand on the mailbox, knowing what was inside, London gave thought to those consistencies in her life. Things she could rely on, which she took for granted.

The weather really didn’t count. And sometimes even it threw her a curveball. Her parents had been consistent. That was an odd irony. Neither one of them would ever win a Parent of the Year award. They didn’t call her to make sure she was okay. More than once she’d heard both of them say they were proud that they didn’t make the mistake of getting pregnant twice. But in all of their scandalous affairs, they never swayed from their steady pattern. London had grown up knowing they wouldn’t be there for her, that she was on her own to find food and quite often a place to sleep at night.

There were other consistencies since her parents. Working was the same. The jobs had varied and so had the towns, but not that much. And since settling here, she could count even more regularities in her life. London reached into the mailbox and took out the package, which looked just like the others. Even this unraveling nightmare was consistent. But the most solid and reliable fact in her world today—guests came to the lodge and they left.

Marc would leave. He came here for a vacation and he was having a wonderful time, she believed. When it was over he would return to his perfect life and his perfect family and have fond memories of his time in Aspen, Colorado. The sooner she accepted that, the easier it would be on her when he left.

Her thoughts dampened her mood as she headed into her bedroom and closed her door. The shower was still going and she wasn’t sure if Marc would respect her privacy or not. She moved quickly, sliding her finger under the clear piece of tape and opening the package.

“Just one minute,” she told herself, putting it on her dresser and moving to her bed.

When she got home tonight she would wash her bedding, but for now she made her bed, straightened her pillows, and reached for the package. Dumping its contents onto her bed, she stared at the several pictures and at the note accompanying them.

As promised, your parents are gone. Let the game begin!