Get Lucky (2 page)

“I honestly feel like a complete idiot for getting stuck like this.”

“Is your car damaged?” she asked, leaving the cleared parking lot that had coils in the pavement that kept it warm so snow would melt easier on it.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

London grinned, squinting against the hard-blowing snow and accelerating slowly onto the highway. “I’m glad you’re fine. And don’t feel bad for going off the road. It’s hell out here.”

“My car is insured, although not replaceable. But I don’t think it’s damaged as much as just stuck.” There was a slight pause. He spoke again before London could think of what to say. “But if you’re driving I should get off the phone with you.”

“Probably a good idea. Hang tight.” She hung up the phone and hoped she knew exactly where he was.

Almost an hour later she crawled to a stop, hitting her flashers as her headlights beamed on a vintage Mustang that was damn near buried in the snow. Pulling her cell back out of her purse, she returned the call to the number that had called her last.

“Are you in there?” she asked when he answered on the first ring.

“Is that you out there?”

“Your rescue team is here.”

“Team of one, I hope.” His deep baritone purred into her ear.

London’s heart didn’t jolt as hard this time. Marc had a natural charm and charisma about him that would break a girl’s heart before he’d even given thought to spending time with her. Her defenses were sliding into place. That wouldn’t happen to her.

London smiled, taking in the Mustang and how it had slid off the road. She imagined if it weren’t made of solid metal, the way cars used to be made, it probably would have been totaled. As it was, she wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a dent. Marc hadn’t driven into hard-packed snow. “Let’s hope you’re still grateful you only have one person helping you after we get you out of there,” she said, shaking her head as she imagined him going way too fast to get his car lodged the way it was. “Can you open your car door?”

“Probably.”

The silence through the phone let her know he’d turned off the car. But when he grunted, obviously pushing against his car door, London’s heart picked up a beat. God. Even his grunt was sexy. She really needed to get a grip. All this was about was being a Good Samaritan. In no way could she allow anything about this man to fog her brain to where she lost her control around him. More than likely he spoke to every person the way he did to her, she told herself.

“Crap,” Marc hissed in her ear.

“What?” she asked.

When he didn’t answer, she strained to see through the white cloud of snow outside while pressing the phone harder to her ear. “Marc, are you there?” she asked. “Marc?”

He wasn’t answering and she couldn’t tell if he’d managed his way out of the car or not. The driver’s-side door was on the other side, although she could barely see the passenger side, with snow already trying to freeze to her windshield in spite of her windshield wipers being cranked.

“Shit,” she hissed, hanging up her phone and placing it back in her purse. She pulled out her gloves, slipped them on, zipped up her jacket, and pulled up her hood.

The wind blew hard and fierce, and she was immediately blinded by snow when she got out of her Jeep. London forced the door closed and stomped over the uneven ground, aware of how slippery it was. Holding her arms out to balance herself, she walked along level ground as far as she could until she had to start down the incline into the ditch alongside the road where Marc and his car were.

“Marc?” she yelled, and grew more worried when she didn’t hear him answer her, although it was hard to hear her own voice with the wind whistling fiercely around her.

London took another step, then slid the rest of the way down the incline until she slapped her gloved hands against the side of his car.

“Are you okay?” she yelled, straining to see through blowing snow as she kept her hands on his car and worked her way to the driver’s side.

“Fine. Although I feel like an ass,” Marc muttered, sounding very close.

She almost stepped on him. Marc sat on the ground, his long, thick legs stretched out in front of him. London stared down at him and couldn’t help grinning. His light blue eyes danced with amusement and a thick thigh-length bright blue coat brought out their color even more. It was unzipped. He didn’t wear gloves. And his short brown hair was soaked and trying to form curls around his face.

“Comfortable?” she asked, knowing if she offered him a hand he’d pull her down on top of him before she’d have the strength to help him to his feet. “You should probably close your car door before there is as much snow in there as there is out here.”

“I’ve lost my phone.” He pushed himself to his feet, holding on to his car door for leverage. “I pushed open the door and then slid on my ass. The phone flew out of my hand.”

She glanced at the ground around him. Even if they did find the phone, the snow was wet and it was probably ruined. He seemed pretty upset about it, and she imagined it was a pretty expensive phone. She began a methodical search, squatting down and trying to imagine where it might have slid after leaving his hand.

“It’s probably ruined,” Marc offered, echoing her thoughts. “And we’re both going to be soaked and freezing at this rate.” He closed his car door, then squatted next to where he’d fallen. He ran his bare hand through the snow. “Go back and get in your car and stay warm. I’ll search for it for a few and then join you. I really appreciate your driving out here.”

“You’re going to give yourself frostbite at this rate.”

“I’ve done worse to myself,” he told her, his face and neck red from the cold, making his blue eyes even brighter when he grinned at her. “Go back to your car.”

“You aren’t in any position to be giving orders.” She squatted next to him and dug into the snow, searching with her gloved hands as she worked through the snow. “Why don’t you go sit in my Jeep. You aren’t even dressed properly to be out here.”

“What are you talking about? I spent all afternoon shopping for winter clothes.”

“Then someone needs to teach you how to wear them. Zip up your coat before you freeze yourc” She met his gaze and watched his eyes darken as he stared at her. God, he was gorgeous. “Before you freeze your ‘you know what’ off.”

“We don’t want that to happen.”

London looked away first, refusing to blush or put any meaning behind his comment. Instead, she focused on her task and quit nagging him about how he was dressed or whether he should stay or go to her Jeep. It wasn’t her problem if he gave himself frostbite. She was on a rescue mission, and the cold, rendering him harmless by freezing his balls off, might be to her advantage. If he was too cold to flirt with her on their return trip to the lodge, quite possibly London would get him to his room and then get out of there without doing anything she would most definitely regret.

“I think I found it.” Marc pulled his bare hand out of a small snowdrift next to him and held up something for her to see. “Yup. Got it. Let’s get out of here.” He stood, rubbing the phone on his jeans, “Thanks for helping me look, and for coming out here and rescuing my crazy ass.”

“You’re definitely giving that impression,” she said, shaking her head at him as she studied how red his bare skin was. “I swear you’re going to be hurting from your skin being exposed to this bitter wind for this long. You really don’t know much about cold weather, do you?”

“We don’t get a lot of snow in L.A.” He reached for her, placing his hand on her back as if she were the one who needed assistance working her way around his car to her Jeep. “But I’m a quick learner. I’ll zip up next time,” he offered, as his hand moved, pulling her hair under her hood and causing a slight pinch against her scalp.

When Marc looked at his car, London remained next to him, all too aware of his hand on her, but stared at his half-buried car, as he did.

“That’s a nice-looking Mustang,” she offered, guessing his thoughts. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I hate leaving it on the side of the road alone,” he said, his voice softer, almost compassionate.

She glanced up at him, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t shaking, or reacting at all to the cold. She imagined cuddling into his large body and how hot it would be. Then giving herself a firm, mental scolding, she forced her attention to his Mustang. It was a metallic red, looked to be in mint condition, with two black stripes going down the middle. It was an all-male, rough-and-ready type of muscle car. Fast and dangerous—probably just like its owner.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

When Marc slid his hand up her back to her shoulder, the pressure she’d endured earlier deep inside her suddenly swelled to dangerous levels. She hit a slick spot and he tightened his grip, pulling her against him as he wrapped his muscular arm around the back of her shoulders. Pulling her against him didn’t help matters at all. Even with his thick down coat covering his large torso, London could feel every inch of hard, packed muscle brush against her. It was almost impossible to see from the blowing snow, but if she could, there wasn’t any doubt in her mind she’d be able to watch snow melt underneath them as they walked to her Jeep. The heat roaring to life inside her was intense enough to ignite into flame.

London’s Jeep seemed a lot smaller with Marc sitting shotgun. Even after he scooted his seat back as far as it went, his long legs still appeared cramped. She peeled off her gloves and pushed her hood off her head.

“I owe you big-time for this,” he told her, watching her when she managed to turn her Jeep around on the road and started back to the lodge. “Did I keep you from any plans you had this evening? I hope you contacted anyone who might be waiting for you at home.”

London would have guessed every line out of his mouth to be smooth and polished. He was doing a lousy job of fishing to find out if she was single.

She reminded herself that, in spite of being larger than life and sexy enough she wanted to cry from the need building inside her, Marc was just a man. He had no more power than what she allowed him to have. “I was scheduled to work this evening,” she reminded him.

“I have to repay you somehow.”

“Don’t drive in snowstorms anymore.”

Marc laughed. “Have you had supper?”

“I’m not sure the kitchen will still be open by the time we get you to the lodge.” She glanced at the clock on her dash, surprised it was as late as it was. “And I’m positive you won’t get delivery on an evening like this.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I could probably arrange to have something made for you in the kitchen,” she offered, keeping her eyes on the road although she was acutely aware of him watching her.

“Then I’d be even further in your debt.”

“No, you’re not. I’m just doing my job.”

“I’d like to think you wouldn’t travel out on a night like this for just anyone.”

A silence grew between them as she fought for something to say. It crossed her mind to simply tell him to back off. London could handle Mr. Perfect, though.

“You asked me to come get you,” she said, not wanting the silence to linger too long. It would only show him the accuracy of his implication that there might be a mutual attraction between them.

“And it made getting stuck in the snow worth it because now I’m alone with you.”

She ignored her pit-pattering heart and reminded herself she could handle him. All she needed to do was get the conversation onto safer ground.

“I’m not reading you wrong, am I?”

“What?”

When she glanced at him, Marc switched his phone to his other hand and stroked her hair behind her shoulder. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“Fooling around with guests is against policy,” London informed him and wondered if he was more than she could handle.

Yes, she could. He might be the sexiest man alive, but then it dawned on her that knowledge was her advantage. She knew that about him. He knew nothing about her.

Chapter Two

Marc’s hands and face burned like a motherfucker when he and London pulled into the parking lot behind the lodge. His fingers were numb, which sucked, since he was sure London’s thick black hair was as smooth as silk, but at the moment he couldn’t feel a thing, other than shooting pain as his body thawed.

He knew a bit more about frostbite than he’d let on to London, but admitting his knowledge of cold weather would make him look even more the idiot for being out in it so ill prepared. There wasn’t any way he could let his phone fall into the wrong hands, though. Which was another thing he couldn’t let London know.

When he’d left home, he hadn’t known for sure how long he’d be gone, or where he was headed. He hadn’t lied to London. He didn’t have a wardrobe full of winter clothes. But he owned a winter coat and long underwear and gloves. A good bounty hunter was always prepared to hunt wherever necessary. His father would have chewed his ass a lot worse than London had if he’d been out in a winter storm without proper clothing. Focusing on weather, and not whoever he was hunting, inevitably ended up with Marc losing the hunt. Marc’s dad always caught his man, or woman. So far, Marc had the same reputation. No way would the old man be able to say he was one up on Marc.

Marc knew he was competitive. The best bounty hunter in the world was his father, so Marc would be as good as, if not better than, Greg King. His father had been shot the year before after making a hasty decision to head into the heat of the fire without discussing it with Marc first. It was actions like this that made Marc think he needed to stay on with KFA and not branch out on his own. His father needed him.

The only way he would remain on top of his act, though, was to clear the L.A. smog out of his head. He wouldn’t be gone too long. If a difficult case came up, Marc would head home. When he’d left home, he never would have guessed he’d end up at a ski lodge during the middle of a blizzard. But he was here, and would be close-knit with everyone in the lodge if he couldn’t get out due to the weather. It was imperative he keep a low profile and not let someone like London wonder why someone from L.A. would have winter clothes and know how to stay warm in a snowstorm. He didn’t want her wondering anything about him, except maybe how he was in bed.

“Did you want me to see about getting you food from the kitchen?”

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.