by Romy Sommer
“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 21st 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 expressio
n 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.”
Max nodded. The cell phone was in the side pocket of his laptop bag. It took precious minutes to switch on. With agitated fingers he dialled Phoenix’s number.
It went straight to voice mail. Damn. Of course it would. Her boss didn’t allow the staff to keep their cell phones on at work. He listened to her voice, until the beep sounded.
What should he say?
There was a lot he needed to say, but none of it could be left in a voice message.
“Call me the moment you get this message.” He cut off the call. Not nearly enough.
He glanced at the wall clock. She’d be at work for another three hours. They could drive past the casino where she worked…but that would take time. Time they didn’t have.
He’d have to leave a note. He pulled the memo pad and pen from beside the phone.
“We don’t have time for this,” Albert snapped impatiently. “The car is waiting, and we’re already behind schedule.”
“Pack my bag while I write.”
It was a measure of how serious the situation was that the most senior cabinet minister of a European nation accepted the order without hesitation. Max was sure the British prime minister would never have packed the Queen’s suitcase. He swallowed his laughter. Not the time, nor the place.
He concentrated on the note.
I have a family crisis I have to attend to, but I’ll call as soon as I can. Whatever you do, please don’t file those papers. I’ll explain everything soon. I love you.
He signed it Max. That would have to do for now.
From his laptop case he removed an envelope with the Mandarin Oriental’s embossed logo. He folded the note and slipped it inside, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his signet ring. The antique Westerwald heirloom his father had given him on his eighteenth birthday, one of only three ever made.
He sealed the ring into the envelope, set the key Phoenix had given him on top of it, packed up his laptop, and did a quick sweep of the rooms to make sure Albert hadn’t missed anything. Then he crossed to the door, flipped the latch, and pulled the door shut behind him.
The click of the latch as it locked had a resoundingly final ring to it.
Phoenix hopped off the bus and hurried down the street towards the motel. She hummed as she walked. She had only known Max for a week and he’d turned her life upside down and inside out, and she was humming.
Tonight she would tell him her decision to go to Napa with him. After all, what was keeping her in Vegas? A dead-end job with a boss who had no sense of humour whatsoever?
She’d already handed in her notice and she was free as a bird.
At the apartment door, she fished her cell phone out of her bag as well as the keys. Still no response from Max. She’d called as soon as she got off shift and picked up his message, but his phone was switched off as usual. In her world, most people needed to be surgically detached from their phones. It was yet another indication of how far apart their lives were. Max never seemed to switch his on.
She slid the key into the lock and smiled as she turned it. But perhaps after all there was a strong enough connection between their worlds that they could overcome their differences. Max was right. This was more than just lust between them. Lust alone wouldn’t have kept her smiling like a loon all day. She wasn’t yet ready to use the other L word, but maybe…
The apartment was empty. No fancy dinner or candle-lit baths tonight, clearly. Perhaps he planned to take her out for dinner instead.
“Max?” she called, throwing her purse down on the sofa and moving to the bedroom. Also empty. It was only when she reached the bathroom that the fear began to bubble in the pit of her stomach.
His toothbrush was gone.
She strode back into the bedroom and flung open his cupboard. Empty.
Fear lanced through her, pain sharp and familiar, and so dizzying she had to steady herself against the door.
She hurried back to the living room, moving so quickly she stubbed her toe on the edge of the sofa. But the pain was nothing to the stabbing pain in her heart as she spotted the key.
She couldn’t breathe.
Sucking in gulps of air, she sank onto the sofa.
Max was gone. Like everyone else in her life, he was gone.
The tide engulfed her and she fought against it. She wasn’t going to let herself go down. No-one was going to pull her down to that dark place again.
She raised her head. So what? So what that Max had failed her? She’d always known it was going to end eventually – that either he would leave or she would. This was what she’d wanted, right? To end things before they got complicated.
Except that it was already complicated.
She picked up the envelope beneath the key. It lay thick and heavy in her hand. With fingers that were steadier than they had any right to be, she slit open the envelope and gasped.
Hundred dollar bills. Lots of them. And a note.
She unfolded the note, laughing hollowly as she read Max’s large, neat handwriting.
I love you. Yeah, right.
He loved her enough to pay her off like some harlot. One abrupt voice message, and then he’d switched off his bloody phone.
He knew where she worked. If he’d truly cared he could have told her face-to-face before he left, but no, he’d left a three line note and cash.
She removed the cash and flicked through it. Enough for a plane ticket out of here. She didn’t really care where she was going as long as it was far away from Vegas. There were memories here now that she didn’t want to re-visit.
There was still something stuck inside the envelope. She gave it a shake and Max’s ring fell out onto her palm. A keepsake, how nice. At least the ring made her feel a little less like a whore being paid for services rendered.
She rolled the ring over and over between her fingers. She’d keep it. She’d keep it real close where it could serve as a reminder of what happened when you let people close, when you let them into your heart.
She was never going to be suckered into that again.
Stuffing the cash back into the envelope, she grabbed the key and headed for the door. It was after normal working hours but in this town there was guaranteed to be a travel agent somewhere who could advise her how far away she could get on three thousand dollars.
There was no point in looking back. It was time to move forward.
Chapter Five
Max’s gaze drifted out the tall arched windows of the council room. Rain battered against the windows. God, but he missed the clear blue Californian sky.
