Waking Up in Vegas (6 page)

“I’m sure I have eggs and bacon here somewhere. I’ll buy some pancake mix tomorrow.” She froze. Now where had that come from? Tomorrow? And straight on the heels of that thought came a flash of memory. They’d eaten breakfast together and he’d told her his favourite breakfast was pancakes with blueberries.

Her pulse rate kicked back into gear. Now all she needed was the rest of that day’s memories, thank you very much.

She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. If she waited another moment, she wouldn’t take the leap. “Tomorrow’s my day off. If you want, we can spend it together.” She tried to sound off-hand, as if her ability to breathe didn’t depend on it.

Max moved behind her. There wasn’t much space in the kitchenette. He was sure to hear her heart racing as he stepped close. His hands slipped under the grungy Megadeth t-shirt, smooth and cool against her over-heated skin. The dimple flashed in his cheek as he grinned.

“But I’m still not staying married to you. I don’t mind a little fun, but no promises, and definitely no commitments. Okay?”

“Okay.” His voice stroked her ear, like a hand brushing velvet. “Does that mean I get to take my wife back to bed now?”

Phoenix glanced at the plastic wall clock. She was still on day shift today but she had a couple of hours yet before she was due at the casino. A couple of hours she could spend running errands. Or making love to Max.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. What the hell. There was only one thing she wanted to do with the next couple of hours, even if it turned out to be yet another mistake in a long line of them.

She laid a hand on his bare chest and felt the rise and fall of his breathing through her fingers. “I have one condition.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“No carrying me over the threshold this time.”

His grin was feral. “You wanna bet?”

He swept her up. Not into his arms. Not up against his chest. But over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. She laughed and squirmed and beat her fists against his back, but he was far stronger. Over the threshold, into the bedroom, until they both collapsed, laughing and breathless, on the bed.

He stroked her face, roughened fingers brushing her cheek. She turned into his palm and closed her eyes, allowing her other senses free reign as Max trailed a line of kisses down her throat.

His hand slid beneath her t-shirt, sure and steady as he cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over the taut nipple. Sensation flooded her, piercing desire rocketing to her core. He pushed the t-shirt up, over her head, and threw it across the room. His mouth blazed fire down her collarbone, over the curve of her breasts, then he took the other nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. She moaned and arched her back.

Her whole body was on fire, every inch of her skin sensitised to the rough glide of his skin against hers, his fingers on the peaked nipple of her other breast.

She cried out in dismay when his mouth left her breast but he swallowed the cry with his mouth, kissing her with all the pent-up passion of two days’ frustrated want and need. She knew how he felt. Like a volcano, the passion had built inside her from the moment he’d stepped out of that hotel bathroom and stolen her breath away.

Now it was too late to stop. And she really, really didn’t want to.

His stubble rasped against her chin, her cheek, her lips, as they kissed. He rolled her over on her back and stripped her pants off without barely even breaking the kiss.

The long hard length of him pressed against her and she arched into him, urging him to take her, to possess her, to complete her, but he had far more control than she did. His hand slid down over her breasts, her stomach and down between her legs.

He unerringly found her sweet spot, circling around the sensitive nub. As his thumb continued its relentless stroke and glide, she widened her legs for him and gasped as he slid his finger into her. The gasp turned into a long, low moan that sounded wild and alien.

“So ready,” he murmured against her ear.

She nodded. She was ready.

His fingers moved steadily in and out of her, beating a rhythm in time with the pounding of her blood. She gave herself over to the sensation, abandoned all thought to the tumult of desire rushing through her. Wave upon wave built inside her until she rocked against his hand, crying out as the orgasm crashed through her.

She opened her eyes at last, focussing slowly back on the face that looked steadily down at her. His striking eyes were filled with an emotion so strong that her throat closed. God, to be looked at that way, to be adored like that, was more intoxicating than any drug she’d ever tried. It was more intoxicating even than champagne.

Her limbs still felt heavy and molten as lava. But her desire certainly hadn’t cooled. He’d given her a taste and now she was hungry for more. She wanted all of him.

Phoenix rolled him onto his back and sat astride him. “I hope you aren’t hungry, because you’re not getting breakfast any time soon.”

Max laughed, a low, gravelly sound. “Only for you.”

She bent and kissed him, a slow, sensuous kiss, less frantic than before, but with no less fervour. His erection pressed against her thigh. Through the fabric of his boxers she held him, rubbing the length of him until he groaned aloud.

“We need protection,” he reminded her.

Appalled, she pulled away. She didn’t have any protection. She hadn’t expected this to happen, certainly hadn’t planned for it. Hadn’t even given it a moment’s thought until now.

“In my wallet.” His voice was trough as he struggled up on his elbows. “My pants.”

She slid away from him, off the bed, and ransacked the pocket of his pants. She found the wallet in his back pocket, and fumbled for the condom, ignoring the platinum cards and the driver’s license. Thank heavens one of them had the foresight to prepare for this.

By the time she returned to the bed and climbed on top of him, he’d shucked off his boxers. She drew in a sharp breath. Clothed, he’d been mouth-wateringly attractive. Naked, he was gorgeous. All lean muscle and smooth planes. She ran an exploring hand down over his chest, over that six pack she’d been itching to touch since they met.

She ripped the packet open with her teeth and with her free hand removed the condom. As she rolled it over the hard, smooth length of him, his erection bucked in her hand. Impatient. As was she.

Their gazes locked together as she lowered herself onto him. She had to admire his strength of will, his control, as he held himself in check, waiting for her to open up to him, to take him in. Only when she’d taken in his full length, did he push up into her, slowly, deliberately.

And that was the last thing they took slowly. She moaned his name and he rolled her over on her back, their bodies still locked together, his hands in her hair. His mouth claimed hers, urgent and fierce with need, and she matched his every move, every thrust of his hips, the ferocious surge as they clawed at each other, merging and tearing apart. Deeper and harder, until her breath came in pants, and she lost awareness of everything but her own pleasure. From a distance, she heard Max call out her name, felt his release inside her. She shattered.

So this was what destiny felt like.

When her breathing returned to normal, she opened her eyes. Tiny aftershocks still radiated through her. Max cradled her in his strong arms, her head against his chest. His heart beat a rapid, staccato rhythm beneath her ear. She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were hooded but she’d never seen them so blue.

Yes, she had.

She fumbled at the memory, grasped it. The first time they’d made love, he’d looked at her like that. That first time he’d taken it slow. He’d made her keep her eyes open so he could watch her climax. And it had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. It had overtaken her so thoroughly, blown her whole being apart and reconstructed her again. Afterwards, he’d held her exactly as he held her right now and she’d felt like a new person, more alive than she’d ever felt.

Happier than she’d ever felt.

And she hadn’t minded at all that she’d been wearing his ring. Or that she’d given up her freedom to be with him. Or her stubble burn.

She pulled out of Max’s embrace. “The coffee must be cold by now,” she said. “I’ll need to make a fresh pot.”

He let her go, leaning up on his elbow to watch as she pulled on her over-sized t-shirt. “Remind me to buy you something a little sexier for bed.” His lips quirked on the edge of one of his mesmerising grins.

She glanced down at the shirt. “It was supposed to be a deterrent.” A fat lot of good it had done. She should have known it would take more than a ratty old t-shirt to stop a volcano.

She headed for the kitchen, keeping herself busy with pans and plates, and trying to ignore the sound of water running in the shower or the image in her head of him naked under the spray.

It was a crappy shower, nowhere near as nice as the massaging jets in the enormous shower cubicle of his fancy hotel. And there definitely wasn’t space for two in this one, so she could just get
that
image out of her head.

He emerged from the shower smelling of her floral and very feminine shampoo. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck as she laid the table. Her stomach growled and she playfully swatted him away. “I need sustenance.”

They ate quickly, feeding their basic needs so they could get back to an even more basic one. She finished her coffee sitting in his lap, unable to keep away from him a moment longer, needing to touch him and be touched. He was a magnet, drawing her in, and she had no choice but to give in to the thrall.

She could only pray that when the spell broke, as it inevitably would, there wouldn’t be tears. The one consolation was that she wouldn’t be the one crying. She hadn’t cried since she was ten and if she hadn’t cried for her father, she sure as hell wasn’t going to cry over losing any other man.

Mondays were Phoenix’s day off, the days she got to do whatever she wanted. She lay on her side, head propped on her arm and watched as Max woke. He stretched like a panther; one toned, glorious limb after another. Then he opened his eyes. It was incredible that even after waking beside him for several days, the colour of his eyes still startled her.

How one pair of eyes could be so aware and intelligent, so twinkling, and so seductive all at the same time was truly unfair to every other man out there. And if women didn’t fall instantly in love with his eyes, then there was his body too…

Though he no doubt had his pick of any woman he wanted, he’d chosen
her
. She still had no memory of what she’d done to inspire that interest, but who was she to complain?

He rolled on his side, mirroring her position, and smiled. “What do you want to do today?”

And that voice! It rolled seductively down her spine, setting her alight.

“I’ve had my turn. What have you always wanted to do in Vegas? You didn’t come all this way with the sole purpose of getting married, I hope.” That would be way beyond stalkerish and straight into insanity.

He grinned, a slow, heated curve of that sensual mouth. “No. Same as everyone else, I came here to get drunk, throw away a lot of money gambling and find a beautiful woman to spend my winnings on. Two out of three isn’t bad.”

“So today we go gambling?”

He chuckled, low and seductive. “I didn’t get drunk the day we married. I knew exactly what I was doing. No, there’s only one thing I want to do today.” He ran his palm down her shoulder, over her breasts … she moaned … to settle on her hip. “I’d like to stay in bed.”

She gave him a gentle shove. “What a waste of a good day. Besides, there must be plenty of women in Napa dying to let you between their legs, so why come all the way to Vegas for that?”

His eyes darkened. They did that, she noticed, every time she didn’t know something he’d already told her that first day they’d spent together. Tough. She only gave herself a headache if she tried to remember that day.

She slid away from his hand and out the bed, pulling on her loose kimono-style wrap. “You might want to spend the day in bed but I have laundry to do and groceries to buy.”

He leaned back on the pillows, arms behind his head. The sheet only covered so much and she had to avert her eyes to resist leaping straight back into the bed with him.

“If you tear up those divorce papers and come to California with me, you’d never have to do laundry again.”

“Tempting as your offer is, no thanks.”

“Why not?” He sat up, eyes flashing. Frustration rolled off him in angry waves. “What is so wrong with being married to me?”

“It’s nothing personal. I don’t want to be tied to one person for the rest of my life. What if I meet someone else?”

“You won’t.” The cocky grin was back, the frustration wiped away by that infernal cheerful confidence.

“You think you’ve spoiled me for every other man? You’re either seriously arrogant or seriously deluded, Farm Boy.”

“No, I just know that destiny has brought us together. We can’t fight it.”

She damned well intended to try. She didn’t believe in destiny. She turned on her heel and stalked to the kitchen. Max was nuts. Sexy as sin, but nuts.

He called after her. “I know you’re afraid, Phoenix. But your courage is bigger than your fear.”

He had to get in the last word, didn’t he? She gritted her teeth and switched on the kettle.

It was impossible to stay angry at him, though. After he’d patiently accompanied her to the Laundromat, carried her groceries, and even fixed the dodgy handle on her closet door, she could hardly kick him out.

And then there was the comic entertainment he provided. Their bus ride had been particularly amusing.

“Have you seriously never travelled on a bus before?”

“How could you tell?” He might have looked sheepish if his dimple hadn’t emerged. Instead, he was mischief personified.

“Oh, I don’t know. The way you flagged it down like a cab, and then told the driver exactly where you wanted to go.”

“How else will he know where we’re going?”

She laughed. “He couldn’t give a toss where we’re going. He’s a municipal employee, and all he cares about is his pay check at the end of the month. It’s up to us to know where we’re going.”

“You know if you stayed married to me, you’d never have to ride a bus again either,” he muttered. She pretended not to hear him.

What she couldn’t ignore was the white-hot chemical reaction that ignited when the bus lurched and she rocked against Max. With his free hand, he steadied her, holding him against her in an embrace far too intimate for the public setting. Heat rushed through her veins and she found herself unable to pull away.

Then his lips came down on hers, and all she could do to remain standing was to wrap her arms around Max and cling to him.

“Get a room,” a voice muttered.

“Good idea,” Max whispered in her ear.

They barely got through the front door before they’d torn their clothes off and he had her unceremoniously on her back on the kitchen table.

He made up for the lightning speed of that coupling the next time round, taking it so tantalisingly slow that it was even more incredible than the last.

Forget laundry and buses. She could seriously get used to
this
.

“It’s nothing more than sex.” Phoenix loaded up her tray with soda cans and high ball glasses full of ice. A week’s worth of the most incredible sex imaginable. Just thinking about Max made her hot, and more than a little breathless.

Khara giggled, her voice barely pitched above the constant din of the slot machines. “Yes, but what sex! Can you think of any better reason to stay married?”

“It won’t last.” But even as she said the words, Phoenix had to admit she didn’t want it to end. Max hadn’t signed the divorce papers yet. And neither had she.

Maybe being married to Max wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe Napa would be a very pleasurable adventure. And when it stopped being pleasurable…well, there’d be time enough to sign the papers then.

She could write this marriage off as an adventure. And then she’d go off on her trip around the world. Or maybe…what if Max went with her?

The trip would be much more fun shared with someone who made her laugh, someone who made her feel safe and protected when she lay in his arms, someone who set her body alight with nothing more than a touch.

No, better not think of that. Especially now, when she had thirsty gamblers to serve and an uptight boss to keep happy.

Napa would be a very pleasant change from this. She could see herself drinking wine on a verandah overlooking a vineyard. Even if she had to serve her own drinks, it would sure beat getting stuck here in Vegas.

She smiled. She’d tell Max her decision tonight. She itched for her shift to end, counting the minutes as they slowly ticked away.

Max scowled and looked up from his laptop at the urgent banging on the door. It was hard enough to concentrate on the vineyard’s sales data and marketing charts with the noise coming through the walls from the neighbours (did they have to keep the TV volume so high?) without some cold caller at the door.

Since the knocking refused to go away, he rose and crossed to the door, slamming it open without first checking the peephole.

“What are you doing here?”

Westerwald’s prime minister wrinkled his nose and looked around. “I’d ask you the same question but the landlady already made the answer quite clear.” His expression said it all. He thought Max was here for sex. Though he wasn’t entirely wrong, the contempt on the older man’s face had Max’s hands fisting at his sides.

Two bodyguards in ominous black suits and sunglasses flanked his visitor.

Max leaned against the doorjamb, irritation levels climbing another notch. If Albert intended on making any disparaging remarks about Phoenix or where she lived, Max would give him the boot. Literally. They were on his turf here, not Albert’s. “Okay, let me re-phrase. What do you want?”

“Are you alone?” Albert had been a member of the cabinet for close to a decade, and a smooth politician for many years before that. In all that time, Max had never seen him display emotion. The anxious look the man cast about him now was the closest Max had ever seen him get to flustered.

“I am.”

Albert ran a hand through his short salt-and-pepper hair, making it stand on end. “May I please come in?”

Albert was always calm and unflappable; he wouldn’t let even a little desert heat interfere with his deportment. Max, in cargo shorts and a golf shirt, felt over-heated, so it was no wonder the older man in his usual three-piece suit, was beginning to look like a tomato. A harried tomato.

Max took pity on him and stepped aside. “You can come in but your goons can go play somewhere else. I don’t want anyone here asking questions.”

Albert nodded at the chief goon and stepped inside. He eyed the sofa with distaste, but sat anyway.

Max closed the door and remained standing. “Are you here in Vegas for business or pleasure?” Hardly the latter, since the cabinet no doubt had its hands full breaking in their new constitutional monarch.

He grinned. He had a pretty good idea the hoops Rik was making them jump through. When they were younger they’d shared lengthy debates on what needed to be done to bring Westerwald into the 21
^st
century. Rik must be in his element.

“You didn’t reply to my emails.” The cabinet minister frowned. “I tried to call you, but your phone was off and at the vineyard they refused to tell me where you are. Your grandfather is most obstinate.”

“I switched my cell phone off and Grandfather was only following my instructions.” Max crossed his arms over his chest. Enough small talk. “How did you find me?”

“I asked the secret service to track your IP address. I think that’s the right terminology.” Max hadn’t even known Westerwald had a secret service. But before he could open his mouth to ask why Albert had gone to such lengths, the other man waved an agitated hand and interrupted. “We have a crisis. I didn’t know what else to do. We need you in Westerwald before the newspapers hit the streets tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t you be going to my brother with this?”

“We don’t know where he is.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. This was news. And perhaps went a way to explaining why the prime minister of Westerwald himself was here instead of some flunky. “You could track me down, but you don’t know where Rik is? Did you look inside the palace?”

Albert’s expression turned apoplectic. “This isn’t a joke. Your brother has run away. Not that I blame him but we need to have you briefed and standing in front of the television cameras in the palace audience chamber at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

What the hell? Max did a rapid mental calculation. It was midday in Nevada. Taking time zones into account, they’d only make it if they left right now.

He sucked in a deep breath. This clearly wasn’t a joke, and if Albert didn’t calm down soon, he was going to have a heart attack.

“Do you want a glass of water, or tea? Then you can tell me what this is all about.”

“Water, please.”

Max fetched a bottle of water from the refrigerator, handed it to Albert, and then sat on the melamine coffee table across from the older man. Once Albert had taken a few long gulps of the cool water, he returned to his usual phlegmatic politician’s expression. But not without effort.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but as soon as DNA testing became scientifically accepted, it was written into our constitution that all Arch Dukes would be tested on accession.”

Max nodded. It was just like the scandal-fearing government to cover their asses, but it was a formality and no big deal.

“There was an irregularity with your brother’s test.” Albert looked away, unable to conceal his embarrassment. “We checked it twice before we spoke with Prince Fredrik.”

A slice of cold shivered down Max’s back. “What was the irregularity?”

“Prince Fredrik is not after all your father’s son, it seems.”

Silence fell. Albert shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

Max had no idea how long he stared at the man before the words actually made any sense. “Are you sure of this?”

“The prince…your brother…went to talk to your mother. We haven’t seen him since, and your mother has locked herself in her private apartment and refuses to talk to anyone.”

My God.

Max dropped his head into his hands. Could it be possible? Had his mother cheated on their father? The mental calculations kept coming. Rik had been a honeymoon baby, and premature on top of that.

Those were the oldest excuses in the book, weren’t they? Had his father known the bride he’d fallen in love with was pregnant with another man’s child?

He rubbed his face. No, his father had most certainly not known. He’d always prized Westerwald’s honour above his own. He’d never have raised Rik to take over the reins if he’d known he wasn’t a blood heir.

He’d have raised Max to do it instead.

He lifted his head. “What do you need me to do?”

“We have a press conference booked for ten tomorrow. There have already been rumours and there’s not much we can do to stop the press speculation. What we need to do now is damage control. We need to assure the press and the public that there will be no disruption to the nation. That you will take your father’s place as Arch Duke and life carries on the same in Westerwald. And somehow prevent your family’s name from being dragged any further through the mud.”

Life carries on the same … not for Rik that was for sure. His heart contracted at the thought of what his brother must be going through right now.

And not for him either. In the space of a heartbeat, nothing in Max’s life would ever be the same again. He needed to come clean with Phoenix and he needed to do it
now
.

He rose and began to search for his cell phone. “How soon can we fly?”

“The jet is fuelled and ready at the airport. Customs and passport control are standing by so we can leave immediately.”