Get Lucky

by Lorie O'Clare

  He didn’t want London dropping him off and leaving. She would be the perfect distraction while he was here. It wasn’t just that he wanted to see her naked underneath him. Marc liked her personality. She was sharp, thought on her feet, and had a quick wit. Besides that, the way she hesitated when he confronted her about wanting him told him more than her lame excuse about violating policy.

  “I’d really appreciate it.” He climbed out of her Jeep on his side and met her when she closed her door. “And thank you for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome.” There was a glow in those onyx eyes that did something to his insides he couldn’t quite label. “You should probably go get out of those wet clothes.”

  Marc pulled the employees’ door open for her and allowed her to enter first. “Room two-ten,” he reminded her.

  London turned around, pushing all that long, thick black hair of hers over her shoulder. “I remember what room you’re in, but I wasn’t planning on coming up.”

  “I thought you said Room Service would be closed by now. Are you going to bribe someone into bringing my food to me? I’d much rather you ordered for two and brought it up yourself.” When he saw her hesitate, he moved closer, slipped his arm around her narrow shoulders, and walked alongside her down the quiet hallway. “Actually, you’re right. I’m being selfish.”

  “I’m glad you understand,” she began.

  “I’ll go change my clothes and then meet you down here. Should I just find you in the dining room?”

  There was a T in the hallway and they turned toward the elevator. One look over his shoulder confirmed the dining room was closed. He wondered if there was anyone still in the kitchen.

  “Go put something warm on,” she encouraged. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  A few minutes later, Marc let himself into his dark, quiet room.

  His fingers tingled as if they were asleep, and he definitely would need waterproof boots very soon. His feet were burning, and so were his cheeks. All the pain and suffering he had endured was worth it, though, to spend time getting to know London. She hadn’t pulled away when he’d put his arm around her. London wanted him, too. Now he simply needed to plot a way to get her into his bed.

  Marc cursed under his breath when he confirmed his phone no longer worked. He stared at the hotel room phone when it began ringing.

  “Hello?” he said, his mind racing when he couldn’t think of anyone who knew he was here. Although it could just be the front desk.

  “Hi, Marc,” London’s sultry voice breathed into his ear. “It looks like the best I can offer at this hour are cold sandwiches. Do you prefer ham or roast beef?”

  “Yes to both,” he said, untangling the cord and backing up until he sat on the edge of his bed.

  Her melodic laughter caused his insides to tighten. London had a voice hot enough for phone sex.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Cheddar, Swiss?”

  “Pile it on there, darling. I’m a starving man. Make yourself a sandwich, too, and charge it to my room.”

  “Whatever you wish.” She sounded incredibly cheerful.

  “I’ll remember you said that.” He grinned at the silence that followed. She wasn’t shooting him down, and rendering her speechless didn’t bother him at all. “Do I have time for a shower?”

  “Sure. I’ll make you a plate and have it ready for you when you come down.”

  “Don’t leave before I come down.”

  Again that silence. “Promise?” he pressed.

  “Okay,” she offered, the one word barely a whisper.

  If she wanted to play hard to get, Marc didn’t have a problem with that. He saw the interest in her eyes. The way they glowed when he caught her watching him earlier offered him all the information he needed for now. It wasn’t as if he wanted a relationship. Women like London wouldn’t jump at an affair, which also added to her list of appealing qualities. He’d never been into cougars or sluts who would put out for anyone. Maybe Marc preferred the hunt. It put more substance into a meaningless affair.

  A hot shower did wonders. Marc slipped into new jeans and a heavy sweater he’d purchased that afternoon, then returned to sit on the bed next to the hotel phone. He needed to touch base with his family, let them know where he was and that his cell phone was down. Marc punched the pillows, leaned back and got comfortable and placed the call to his home out in L.A., noting the hour difference and that they would probably be done with dinner and possibly even down by the beach enjoying the cooler evening temperatures.

  “KFA!” his father bellowed into the phone.

  “Dad. It’s Marc.” He didn’t comment on his father answering his personal cell phone the way he would answer his work phone. His parents could use a vacation, too.

  “What number are you calling me from?” Greg King’s deep baritone suddenly sounded tense. None of them used phones other than their own, which had scramblers installed to protect them, and their clients.

  “That’s why I’m calling you. I ran my Mustang into a snowdrift earlier tonight, and when I got out my phone fell in the snow. It’s out of commission.”

  “What about your car? And a hotel room phone?”

  Marc didn’t usually give much thought to how different their phone conversations were from other families. It was second nature to look over his shoulder, double-check any new environment he entered, and not say a word about where he was, or what he was doing, over an insecure line.

  “I’ll know more after the tow truck brings it to the lodge. We’re in a doozy of a blizzard right now.”

  “How did you get to the lodge?” Greg didn’t ask where the lodge was.

  “One of the employees here was nice enough to come get me so I wouldn’t have to sit it out inside my car for several hours waiting to be pulled out of the snow.”

  His father chuckled for the first time, whatever it was that had distracted him when he answered easing away as he understood what his son had just gone through. “I’ll remember never to let you drive next time we’re in snow.”

  “Not this kind of snow.” Marc wouldn’t argue with him there. “I’ll see about ordering another phone or grabbing one in town once I’m able to get there. But in the meantime, if you need me, you’ll have to call the lodge.” He didn’t have to offer the number. It would be on his father’s caller ID.

  “Well, I hope you’re enjoying your vacation,” Greg said. “Let me know when you get a new cell.”

  “Will do, and it’s been okay so far. I checked in this morning, so I’ll keep you posted.” He didn’t see any reason to mention London. Marc leaned forward, swinging his legs off the bed. “How are things going there?”

  “You aren’t secure,” his dad reminded him. “Enjoy your vacation and you can catch up when you get home. There’s nothing you can do out there anyway.”

  “Nothing I can do out here?” If there was a tough case, Marc would have to cut his vacation short.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  “I’ll let you know when I have a new cell phone.” That wouldn’t mean he’d be secure and Marc knew it. Marc and his family used scramblers they installed in their cells to prevent anyone from overhearing their conversations.

  “Better call your insurance company, too.”

  “Yup.” Marc got a good deal on the vintage Mustang he’d bought before the holidays. “Hopefully it’s not hurt, just stuck.”

  “Let me know.”

  Marc took a moment to talk to his mom, promised to stay in touch, and hung up the phone. He knew the rest of his family felt the stress from their last case. Although they’d handled many jobs for bonding companies in the L.A. area, bringing in criminals who skipped out on court dates or didn’t show up to meet parole officers and then tried skipping the state, none of those cases held the same appeal as the big ones they landed every now and then.

  It hadn’t quite been a year since they’d returned from Mexico, having gone down there to find their mother’s boss. He’d been killed
, and that was when they swapped out their bounty-hunting hats, which were illegal in that country anyway, and started doing some snooping around. They weren’t private investigators but that didn’t mean from time to time a bit of investigation wasn’t warranted. Marc was proud of KFA’s skills and reputation. He and his family had ended up taking out a world-renowned assassin and disrupting the warped game he was playing. The only problem, though, was when the assassin was killed they weren’t able to learn who else might be playing this incredibly brutal and warped game of kidnapping citizens with certain unique skills and turning them into killers.

  If his father had discussed his plan to infiltrate the house of the man they were hunting, Marty Byrd, with Marc, prior to allowing himself to get captured, and then later shot, maybe they would have gathered more intel. Marc wasn’t so proud to believe the case would have gone a lot better if he’d been more informed. His father was one hell of a bounty hunter. But they were all capable of making mistakes and it was Marc’s job to be there for his dad.

  Marc admitted the wear and tear of that case was part of the reason he needed time away from KFA for a while, but not if a serious case came their way. Clearing his head, taking a look at life from an angle other than a bounty hunter’s, would make him better at what he did. Marc loved being a bounty hunter. It was in his blood. He and his brother, Jake, had followed their dad into the line of work without looking back. There was something about hunting another man, or woman, that fulfilled a part of him that otherwise was an empty void inside. Even here, on downtime, Marc knew he wouldn’t be able to go too long without resuming a hunt. Although he wouldn’t have run into London Brooke if he hadn’t come here. She had no idea how much her presence would make this a great, rejuvenating vacation.

  Marc stacked the brochures that were in his room in a pile and placed them next to the phone. He dropped his nonworking cell on his bed and headed out to find his new conquest.

  The elevator was crowded. He could have taken the stairs but decided against it. The last thing he’d admit to anyone, especially London, was that his feet burned like a son of a bitch and the rest of him didn’t feel a lot better. She’d been right about him being underdressed. He would have to admit he’d never known cold the way it was outside in that storm.

  Everyone piled out of the elevator, hurrying in the direction of the disco. Marc followed the crowd and watched them head through the main lobby to another hallway. Doors opened and the thumping sound of music accompanied by laughter and happy partiers filled the lobby until the doors swung shut behind everyone.

  “Mr. King?” A thin guy behind the front desk held up a plate. “I believe this is for you.”

  “Marc.” Calling him Mr. King made Marc think the clerk was asking for Marc’s dad. “And thanks. Where is London?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably headed out. She isn’t working tonight.”

  Marc pulled the cellophane back from the plate and picked up half of one of the sandwiches. He took a bite. It was cold, as if it had been refrigerated. He glanced down at the bread pressed into several layers of meats and cheeses. It didn’t look like she’d just thrown together a sandwich for him. It had been made earlier today and stored in a refrigerator. Marc took another bite. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  Marc turned to Todd, which was what the guy behind the counter’s name tag said. He’d turned to help someone else. Several other couples strolled into the lobby, but London wasn’t anywhere in sight. Marc took another bite of his sandwich, holding the chilled plate, and headed down the opposite hallway. He peered out the door they’d entered and stared at her green Jeep, which was already half-covered with snow that stubbornly continued falling. He closed the door quickly, willing the cold to go away, and continued at his sandwich as he searched for her.

  A partially closed door had a sign on it that said: EMPLOYEES ONLY. Marc heard London talking beyond the door and paused, knowing he shouldn’t eavesdrop but taking a moment to listen before making his presence known. If it was a private conversation, he would give her privacy and move on to wait for her.

  “I haven’t made it home yet.c No, I didn’t get stuck.” London paced into view but didn’t look his way as she spoke to someone on her phone. “One of the guests got stuck in the snow. I picked him up and brought him back here.”

  London’s hair fell to her waist. She walked away from him, running her fingers through it. Marc watched in awe as it streamed down her back like raw silk. It glowed under the light and appeared not to have a tangle in it. What he wouldn’t do to run his fingers through it, learn its texture and how hard he could tug before she moaned with pleasure.

  “Marc King,” she said, pulling him out of his fantasy. “Yeah, I know.” Her laughter was melodic.

  Marc ached to know what the person had said on the other end of the line that London agreed with. He sensed they were talking about him and whatever it was made London laugh.

  “I can’t imagine what it would be.” London stopped walking, standing with her back to him. “Yeah, go ahead and take it. I really appreciate it. It’s a thick package?” London shook her head. “No. Trust me, I don’t have any family who would send me anything.” She laughed again, although the ring of happiness wasn’t in it this time. “Sounds good. I appreciate it, Meryl. See you tomorrow.”

  Marc took a few steps backward and walked up to the door, this time pushing it open. “There you are,” he said, and held up the plate. “Thank you for supper.”

  “You’re welcome.” She stared at her phone in her hand, looking distracted.

  “Something wrong?” Marc swore there was something haunted in her gaze when she looked up at him. It disappeared quickly. “You weren’t hiding from me, were you?” he asked, not wanting her to know he’d lingered outside the door and listened to her conversation.

  “No.” The pleasant smile she planted on her face looked like the one she had used when she stood behind the counter, professional and without emotion. “Not at all,” she assured him. “It’s justc” She paused; then making a face, she waved her hand in the air. “It’s nothing. My friend found a package at my door and I can’t imagine who would send me anything.”

  “Family maybe?”

  “No. It wouldn’t be from family.”

  She either didn’t have family or didn’t get along with them. Marc doubted she’d tell him if he pressed. He reminded himself he wasn’t after lasting friendship with London. If she offered anything about herself, great. If not, no worries.

  “I guess you have a surprise waiting for you then.”

  “Surprises are seldom pleasant,” she murmured.

  “True,” he admitted, watching her.

  She shifted her attention to his partially eaten sandwich, then edged past him. “Shall we find a place for you to sit and eat your sandwich?”

  There were more layers to London than Marc had initially guessed. They sat in an alcove on the third floor of the lodge. It was at the end of the hallway and to the side of the elevators, just out of sight. A love seat and coffee table were surrounded by windows, which made it a bit chilly. He imagined in the daytime there was probably one hell of a view. Right now though, the black glass was cold and lowered the temperature easily ten degrees colder than the hallway.

  “How long have you worked here?” Marc munched on half of the second sandwich while London nibbled on the other half. It was all the food she would accept, and although she was thin, he’d bet she could put away a meal if she set her mind to it. She didn’t strike him as the type who worried about her weight and dieting.

  “Three years.” She sucked her index finger into her mouth, licking mayonnaise off it. London didn’t appear to be performing the act to lure him in, but damn, it looked hot as hell.

  “What made you take a job at a ski lodge?” He wanted to keep her talking, find something she would open up and discuss with him. So far it had been questions and short answers.

  “There was a job opening,” she offered, her smile
distant. She appeared distracted. “It’s a great ski lodge, the best in the state if you ask me.”

  “And why is that?” He didn’t know anything about any of the other ski lodges, but it was as good a time as any to learn.

  “This is the most beautiful part of the state. Anyone will tell you that.” She beamed as if she had something to do with making the mountains surrounding them appear as they did. “I know you just got here, but when you get a chance check out the architecture of this building. It used to be a mansion owned by a recluse millionaire. The story is downstairs on a plaque in the lobby. When the organization that bought it changed it into a ski lodge, they added on all these additions where all the rooms are.”

  “Fascinating,” he said, downing the remainder of his sandwich. He enjoyed listening to her.

  “But of course what really makes this the best ski lodge in the state is our award-winning customer service.” She beamed at him.

  He could imagine what she might win awards at, but saying as much would sound lewd. It would also probably scare her away. Marc hadn’t seen the real London yet. He wasn’t sure why she hid behind a mask, but her body language and tone of her voice suggested she’d yet to open up to him. God. He loved a challenge.

  “I’m not interested in customer service, but in the lady when she isn’t behind the counter,” he let her know, taking the plate that had held the sandwiches off the couch from between them and placing it on the coffee table.

  When he reached for her hair, anxious to feel if it was as silky as it looked, London grabbed his wrist. She had a firmer grip than he’d guessed she would.

  “You said earlier I was as interested in you as you were in me,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. “You saw body language, which is what most people see. That doesn’t mean attraction. It means I saw a good-looking man and appreciated his qualities.”

  “It’s mutual, sweetheart.” Although she had a grip, Marc twisted his wrist out of her grasp and locked his fingers between hers. “You are one hell of a beautiful woman.”

  She didn’t blush, which meant she’d heard the compliment many times before. Marc wasn’t surprised or offended.