Perfect Fit (Serendipity's Finest)

Eleven



Mike hadn’t considered asking Cara to go along. He handled his shit alone, especially the personal stuff. Yet for some reason, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes when she’d asked. He refused to let her pay for her ticket, and he was lucky enough to snag her a seat next to him. She was unusually silent throughout the flight, but he didn’t think much about it. He had plenty to keep his mind occupied, the idea of meeting his real father for the first time churning his stomach. She must have understood because she bought magazines and a Patricia Cornwell novel, and delved into those in place of conversation.

An hour in, the pilot reminded them to put their seat belts on because of expected turbulence. Mike glanced at his buckle and Cara did the same, checking and double-checking before returning to her book—until the plane took what felt like a quick dip and consecutive bumps continued to shake the aircraft.

Cara sucked in a breath and grabbed Mike’s arm as the big jet continued to bounce around in the sky. “Oh my God, oh my God.” She repeated the phrase, her nails digging into his skin, leaving deep grooves in his flesh.

The plane jerked again and he covered her hand with his, prying her fingernails up and threading his hand into hers.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He glanced at her pale face. “Have you ever flown before?”

“A couple of times, but I’ve never gotten used to it.” She shook her head and glanced down, her cheeks pink.

“Why didn’t you tell me flying bothered you?” he asked her, touched that she’d offered to join him anyway.

She shrugged.

He grinned. “I know why. You want me to think you’re tough.”

“I am tough,” she said, glaring at him.

He chuckled and reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That you are.”

She lifted her eyes to his, warmth shimmering there at his honest assessment. Then she smiled, her gratitude and emotions there for him to see, socking him unexpectedly in the gut.

“So, where are we staying? I didn’t think to ask.” She changed the subject and he was grateful.

“The Bellagio.” When she’d said she was coming on this trip, he’d changed his reservation from the unassuming MGM to a place she wouldn’t soon forget.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes opening wider. “The hotel from Ocean’s Eleven? The one with the huge waterfalls?”

He’d obviously chosen well. The normally sedate Cara squealed in delight, making him extra glad he’d switched.

“Wait until you see the room,” he said, squeezing her hand and noticing how she’d forgotten all about the turbulence. “And I made a dinner reservation tomorrow night at Delmonico’s in the Venetian.” He wanted to show her what Vegas had to offer, including a gondola ride, something he’d never imagined wanting to go on.

“Are you sure about all this?” A tiny crease formed between her brows as she crinkled her nose in concern. “I know this has to be expensive and—”

He cut her off with a finger over her lips, and her pretty blue eyes dilated to a deeper hue. He was about to remove his hand when she nipped the pad of his finger with her teeth.

“Damn,” he muttered as his cock jumped in his pants, swelling against the rough denim of his jeans. “Unless you want me to make you a member of the mile-high club, I suggest you cut that out.” He pulled his hand back before he jumped her right there in her seat.

She grinned, mighty pleased with herself, making him laugh.

“Behave,” he muttered.

“If you insist.” She eased back into her seat, facing forward, an impish and irresistible smile still on her face.

Mike shifted in his seat, knowing he’d be uncomfortable for the rest of the flight.

“Oh! It’s calm now. Thank you for distracting me,” she murmured, now completely relaxed.

Unlike him, he thought wryly. He hoped he could wait to get to Vegas and check in because he needed stress relief before facing his father.

He needed Cara.

From the moment the plane took off until now, when she stepped into the large suite—not a room, a suite—Cara had been in awe. She didn’t know what it was costing Mike, and to her surprise, she didn’t plan to ask. Instead, she’d decided to let herself enjoy.

And enjoy she did. Mike clearly wanted her, pinning her to the California king in the center of the room as soon as the bellman left them alone. From there, they christened the bed—more than once, at which point it was after midnight, Nevada time.

They spent the next day doing fun things, like taking a tour of Madame Tussauds museum, playing roulette, making love, showering, and heading to dinner. At Delmonico’s, Cara ate the best steak of her life. She and Mike talked about everything and nothing, with the exception of the night ahead and his hoped-for meeting with Rex Bransom.

With Mike, she was at once comfortable and always aroused, enjoying her time with him whether they agreed on the topic at hand or not. He was easy to be with. Too easy, and she had to keep reminding herself she couldn’t get complacent or convince herself Mike was someone who’d be around for long.

After dinner, they returned to the room to change clothes before heading over to Shots. On the ride up in the elevator and then back in the suite, Mike grew increasingly silent, and Cara gave him his space. She’d packed quickly, but she’d deliberately chosen the outfit she’d worn the first time she and Mike were together, a short skirt and her favorite cowboy boots that allowed her to strap on her ankle holster and small Glock. Airline rules allowed them to bring their weapons but not ammo, and they’d bought bullets earlier in the day. Just in case. They both felt more comfortable knowing they were armed.

The television blared the sound from a movie as they dressed without speaking. Cara wriggled into her cropped top with a deep V, pleased when Mike stopped to watch, his eyes drawn to her cleavage before he shook his head and pulled his gaze away. At least she provided a distraction for him.

They headed for the lobby; Mike kept her hand tight inside his. Although most people around them were more dressed up for the evening, the women in high heels and sequined short dresses, once they arrived at Shots, a dive bar on a side street far off the main strip, Cara and Mike’s casual attire worked just fine.

Unlike the light, welcoming atmosphere at Joe’s, the mood at Shots was heavy and dark. What lighting existed was minimal, and the place catered to a skeevy clientele that made even Cara, a seasoned cop, uncomfortable. As if sensing her emotions, Mike reached back and grasped her hand, pulling her close beside him as they made their way through the crowd.

She didn’t know his plan for tonight, and she hadn’t wanted to ask. She’d take her cues from him.

Mike glanced around the dimly lit bar, wondering if he’d recognize his old man on sight. His mother hadn’t kept photographs around, and though Mike could have looked through old yearbooks at the high school or Googled, something always held him back. Maybe on some level, he’d always known this day of reckoning would come, that he’d have to face his father, and he’d wanted to do it on his terms.

He took in the smoky bar, the class of people here, and his stomach churned. He was about to push his way through the crush and buy a drink when a loud, masculine burst of laughter caught his attention and somehow he knew.

“What’s wrong?” Cara asked.

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“You’re squeezing my hand so tight I think you broke something.” She pulled her hand from his and shook it out.

He frowned. “Over there.” He tipped his head toward the back corner from where he’d heard the sound.

Cara sucked in a sharp breath. “He looks just like you,” she said in awe.

Mike nodded, sensing he’d been given a glimpse into what he might look like in twenty or so years, but from the other man’s obvious outgoing personality, that was where the similarities ended. Rex sat in the corner, holding court. There was no other word to describe how people around him gravitated to the booming laugh and deep voice. He was telling a story, and the people surrounding him seemed to hang on his every word. And by his side was a woman who couldn’t be more than twenty-two if she was that, wearing a tube top with no support for her ample breasts, makeup that had been caked on and bleached blond hair teased high, obviously trying to look older than her very young age.

Mike moved on autopilot. Retaking Cara’s hand because he wasn’t willing to leave her here to be picked up by some douchebag, he moved forward and pushed through the throng of people.

With each step, Rex Bransom’s voice grew louder. “And then I told her, sit back and watch a pro because Rex here’s gonna buy you anything your heart desires. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

Nausea swept through Mike. “Is that before you knock her up and leave her high and dry for the next twenty-nine years?” He, who never spoke without deliberation, spewed his deepest thoughts.

Rex paused midgulp and choked on his beer. Dark eyes rose to meet Mike’s, then opened wide in recognition. “Everybody scram.” He waved his hand, and his crowd grumbled but dispersed. All except the woman wrapped around him like a snake.

“You too, baby girl.”

“But Rexie,” she complained, rubbing up against him in an attempt to get him to change his mind and let her stay.

Mike held the other man’s gaze, hoping the hatred he felt was evident because he sure as hell wasn’t holding back.

“Go.” Rex unhooked her arms from around his neck and stood.

With a whine, the woman headed for the bar. “I’ll be waiting right here,” she called back over her shoulder.

Rex didn’t tear his eyes from Mike’s. “Son.”

Mike glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Rex. “You can’t possibly mean me, because the only man with the right to call me that is Simon Marsden.”

Only the slight tic in one eye betrayed any feeling. “So that’s the way of things.”

“What other way would there be?”

Rex nodded and appeared to eye Mike with newfound respect. “Sit.” He pointed to the chair one of his minions had vacated.

Mike folded his arms across his chest and remained standing.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” Rex’s gaze landed on Cara and stayed too long for Mike’s liking.

“Cara Hartley,” she said, stepping forward.

“She’s not your concern,” Mike said, holding out his arm so she wouldn’t step forward for a handshake or any other contact.

“So you’re not here to make nice, and you’re not here to introduce me to your woman. Why don’t you tell me what’s brought you to my neck of the woods?”

It was time to dive into the reason he’d come, to find out what the hell Rex Bransom had been up to in Serendipity. “Now I think I will sit.” Mike pulled out a chair for Cara before easing himself into a seat beside her.

Rex did the same, settling back into his chair.

“Why the hell are you bothering Ella?” Mike hadn’t planned on saying that either.

Rex blinked, appearing stunned and even a little hurt. “Is that what she said? I’m bothering her?”

A steady throb began in Mike’s left temple. “That’s my interpretation.”

Rex leaned forward.

Mike angled back.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might want to know how my family’s doing?” Rex asked.

Damned if he didn’t sound sincere, and that more than anything made Mike sick to his stomach.

Beside him, Cara let out a small sound of disbelief. Mike ground his back teeth together, as surprised as she was.

“Family doesn’t disappear for decades.” And Mike didn’t want to prolong this agony any more than necessary.

If tortured, he might admit to having been curious about his old man, but as he’d suspected, he didn’t like what he’d found. “I’m here for one reason only. To ask you what you know about money still lying around the evidence room in Serendipity from a case you worked back in 1983. Marked bills ring a bell?” He watched the other man closely, wanting to catch both the shock—which was obvious—and any other emotion that crossed there.

“Is crime down so much in that podunk town that you cops have nothing better to do than chase down old cases?” Rex asked with disdain.

Podunk town? There was no better description to indicate that Rex was happy to have left Serendipity and the people in it behind. And hadn’t Mike felt the same way? And hadn’t he ended up in Atlantic City, a place not too dissimilar to Vegas? Mike had a job. According to his P.I., Rex did occasional work with the local PD. In other words, he was a snitch who got paid for his observations. Mike’s stomach clenched some more.

You traveled all the way here for that?” Before Mike could answer, Rex turned toward the bar. “Sal, get me another scotch. Neat.”

Mike narrowed his gaze. Talking about the family he’d abandoned hadn’t driven Rex to need another drink, but the old case had.

Rex refocused his gaze on Mike. “You got so many questions, why didn’t you just ask the man you call Dad?”

Mike straightened his shoulders. “You mean the one who did your job for you? Who stepped up when you couldn’t be bothered? There’s no way I’m going to upset him now, not with what he’s going through.”

Rex jerked as if Mike had gutted him. “What’s wrong with Simon?” he asked, suddenly sounding as if he cared.

Cara shifted in her seat, and Mike answered before she could offer up anything. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

He hadn’t meant to slip and give Rex any information about his family. “Tell me what you remember, and I’ll get out of here and you’ll never have to see me again. I’m sure that’s what you want anyway.”

Rex scowled, his expression turning dark. “You have no idea what I want. Not now and not back then.” He paused, and the silence between them grew heavy. “Sometimes we do things because we have to. Want has nothing to do with it.”

Mike rolled his eyes. He’d flown cross-country only to have him speak in riddles. If he’d wanted to waste his time, he could have stayed at the casino and dropped money at the tables.

But he’d try one more time. “Money?” he reminded Rex. “Marked bills found in the trunk of a car you stopped for speeding? Does any of this sound familiar?”

Rex slammed a large hand against the table, causing it to shake under the force. “Leave it alone, son.”

“And I told you not to call me that.” Just being in Rex Bransom’s presence made Mike feel like a small, unwanted boy. There were too many times he hadn’t appreciated what Simon had done, focusing instead on what this man hadn’t. At the moment, Mike resented the hell out of having had to track him down.

He’d had enough and rose from his seat. “This was a waste of time. Come on,” he said to Cara.

She dutifully rose from her chair, and Mike knew she was doing what he asked in order to make this as easy as possible on him. He appreciated it more than he could express.

To Mike’s surprise, Rex stood as well. “You might not believe this, but it was good to meet you.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Mike muttered.

A flash of pain flickered in eyes similar to Mike’s own before Rex masked it. “Glad you brought your lady. She’s a fine-looking woman. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll never turn my back on the people who mean the most to me.”

He grasped Cara’s hand and walked away without looking back.

Cara felt Mike’s tension and anger vibrating through him and didn’t know how to ease it. She wasn’t even sure he’d want her to. They returned to the hotel in silence, and she waited until they were alone in the suite.

He stalked over to the bar and poured himself a drink, downing it in one gulp.

“Mike?”

He shook his head. “Not now.”

He was shutting her out. She couldn’t say it didn’t hurt, but she understood. She’d wanted to make the overture and she had, but whether he wanted to talk was up to him. And he clearly did not.

She opened a drawer, pulled out the nightgown she’d brought with her, and walked into the bathroom. After being in the smoky bar, she needed to feel clean before getting into bed.

She stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the luxurious shower. It took her more than a few tries to understand which knobs turned on the overhead spray, but once she managed, the water cascaded down her back, warming her up—at least from the outside. Inside she was cold from Mike’s rejection. No matter how much she got it, she’d made this trip to help him. Once he’d accepted her offer, she hadn’t expected him to turn her away.

As she lathered up with the soap provided by the hotel, which smelled fruity and delicious, she thought about the short meeting with Rex Bransom. The man was more self-contained than Mike. Other than his initial startled surprise at seeing Mike, he hadn’t slipped, hadn’t given anything away. And when he didn’t want to answer, he used Mike’s weak spot—the word son—poking at the open wound. No question, the man was a bastard. Her heart broke for Mike, who she was sure was as hurt as he was confused.

She tilted her head up toward the hot water, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, the spray washing over her like rain. It felt so good, she wondered if she could install this kind of shower in her condo. She laughed at the silly thought.

She heard the creak, and then Mike’s hands gripped her forearms as he pressed his body against hers, his erection solid at her back.

“Forgive me?” he asked, nuzzling his face into her neck.

She sighed, her body softening along with her heart. “There’s nothing to forgive. You needed space.”

“And you always give me what I need. Even if I don’t know what that is myself.” His gruff voice rumbled in her ear.

He hadn’t wanted to talk, but he was obviously happy to forget his troubles inside her body. And she didn’t mind. Sex was what they did best together, was what she could count on from him.

He slid his finger through her slick heat, moisture easing the way for an easy glide. Desire rippled through her and she arched into his hand.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.”

She moaned only to have him stiffen behind her. “F*ck. I can’t believe I call you that. I’ve been calling you that. Hell, I tried to convince you it was okay. Then he said it and it sounded so damned demeaning.” His arms were still wrapped tight around her.

Cara sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “From Rex to her? It was demeaning. God, Mike, she was all of twenty-one—and that’s if she was even legal! He didn’t care about her. He liked the attention, the idea of a young woman who idolized him and hung on his every word. We both know that’s not how I see you.”

That got a laugh. “No, you don’t automatically do anything I say.”

She grinned. “Independent. That’s me,” she said, before her thoughts sobered.

Mike didn’t know another woman who could make him laugh—during sex or about this whole screwed-up situation.

“Besides, didn’t we already undergo desensitization therapy?” she asked, wriggling her backside against his erection.

She turned to press a kiss against his solid chest. Her soft lips teased his skin, arousing him even more as she continued to explore. She ran her tongue over the flat peaks of his nipples until he let out a harsh groan, and then she nipped harder and he thought he’d come right then.

“Uh-uh.” Her pleasure mattered, not his. He dropped to his knees. He breathed out, teasing her with a rush of air. Her thighs trembled. He placed his lips on her sex, drawing the tight bud into his mouth and suckling hard.

She cried out and thrust her hips forward. Grasping her waist to steady her, he kept up the pressure, knowing exactly what she liked and needed most. He brought her up quickly but didn’t let her climax; instead he released her as soon as she was near, causing her to moan in frustration, to buck her hips and beg for more.

Mike merely chuckled and ran his tongue along her outer lips, teasing her some until she wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled. “Please,” she begged.

He soothed her with a lick along her slit. Her knees buckled and he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he laid her down on the thick bedding and eased his body down on top of her.

“Did you really think I’d let you come without me inside you?” He brushed his lips over hers.

She met his gaze, her eyes dilated with pleasure, hazy with desire. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”

He laughed and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth while savoring the feel of her soft, satiny skin beneath him.

But she was restless and shifted beneath him. “Move, dammit.” She punctuated her order with a squeeze of his butt cheeks.

“Good to know you want me…baby.” He forced the word out of his mouth. No way would he allow his father to control any part of his life, especially this.

Her answering kiss indicated she knew how hard it had been for him and melted more of his heart. Oh hell, she already owned it, he thought, raising his hips and sliding his erection along her damp heat. She shuddered beneath him, as if mini climaxes were racking her body already, and he took advantage, thrusting into her hard and deep.

“Michael,” she said, on a groan, the way he’d come to expect.

“I love it when you say my name like that, when I’m deep inside you.”

A sultry smile lifted her lips.

He pulled out slowly, feeling her clutch around him, then drove back in once more. She raised her knees, pulling him farther into her heat, and he picked up the rhythm, in and out, his sole focus on the intensity of the feelings she inspired. Harder, faster, she met him thrust for thrust, her sexy moans increasing every time their bodies joined.

He loved the sound of sex, the grinding of bodies, but this was so much more. He’d never walk away unscathed. Bracing his hands beside her, he lowered his head, taking her lips in a hard, much-needed kiss. Her sex clenched him, milking him tighter. A tingling in his gut signaled the onset of climax. He stiffened and shuddered, imploding inside and out. He came, the release physical as much as it was emotional, the sensations pulling him under as he came harder than ever before.

From a distance, he heard her cries, gasps, the “Oh Gods,” that signaled she’d joined him for the ride. Spent, he sprawled on top of her, certain he’d never breathe well again.

A little while later, he lay with Cara curled in his arms. The longer they rested in silence, the more time he had to dwell on his meeting with Rex.

Leave it alone, son. Those words told Mike that Rex knew more than he’d admitted, but he’d been smart enough to hit Mike where it hurt to get himself off the hook. And Mike had allowed it. Still, even if he’d pushed, Mike was under no illusions he’d have been able to break Rex.

His answers didn’t lie in Vegas any more than they did in Serendipity. They were bottled up, unlikely to be revealed. He ought to call the mayor, tell her they’d hit a dead end and call it a day. But Mike didn’t like unfinished business. He hated it even more when it pertained to his life.

In the midst of the chaos with Rex, a surprising need for home surfaced. Mike wanted to talk to Sam and Erin, to feel a part of the family he’d tried so hard to distance himself from. That need surprised him.

Cara stirred, shifting and rolling to face him. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m with you, so never better.” He leaned over and kissed her.

She smiled and curled back into his side. “Except I wasn’t talking about us. I can practically hear you thinking.”

He chuckled, not surprised how well she read him. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, extreme caution in her voice.

No doubt because he’d been such an ass the last time she’d approached him. “I would, if there were something to discuss. Rex is a no-good son of a bitch who’d rather hurt his own son than reveal information. That about sums it up, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

Cara exhaled hard. “All true. But you shouldn’t dismiss how he made you feel.”

“I feel like I don’t want to have anything to do with the man, but since his blood is running through my veins, I really can’t control that either.” He wished he could take back the sarcastic bite in his voice, but it was too late.

“Mike—”

“Look, I know you’re here for me and…I appreciate it.” He cut her off before she could poke at the wound his father opened in him. No matter how well meaning, he wasn’t up to it. “I just need to work through it myself.”

“Mmm,” she said, and the sound vibrated through him. “Been there and thought that many times myself. I get it.”

For the first time, he sensed that she really did. Funny thing was, he hated the thought of her going through any of her personal garbage alone. Still, that was exactly what he needed right now.

“I can’t wait to get home,” he muttered.

“Having that bad a time?” she asked lightly.

“Not when I’m with you.” He squeezed her tighter. “I just need to get away from here.”

“I get that too.” With her head snuggled in the crook of his arm, he couldn’t see her face or read her expression. “Besides, you already showed me the best of Vegas, so I really can’t complain that you’re ready to leave.”

He twirled his finger in her hair, guilt riding him that when he should still be enjoying the next twenty-four hours, he wanted to get out of the state his father lived in as soon as possible.

“Come,” he said, nudging her shoulder.

“Where?”

There was one more sight they’d yet to enjoy together. “Get dressed. I want to go outside and see the light show.” Personally, he could live without it, but he remembered her delighted expression when she talked about seeing the lights.

“Are you sure? We could call the airlines now and get on the next flight home,” she offered.

“Not until after you’ve seen the light show.” He rolled her onto her back and pinned her to the mattress. “And definitely not until after I’ve seen your face when you do.”