Waking Up in Vegas: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance

by Romy Sommer

  Sparks shot from her eyes. “This was a mistake. It was a mistake back in May and it’s still a mistake. No amount of time is going to make us more compatible or more suited to each other.”

  What the hell had brought this on? “We are perfectly compatible. Or do I need to remind you?” He lifted her chin, his intention to kiss her clear but she pulled away, taking a step back.

  “In bed, yes. But in every other way we’re completely different. You can trace your family back a thousand years. I never even met my grandparents. You have duties and responsibilities and I don’t even own a goldfish.”

  “That’s all superficial. We match in every way that counts.”

  “You need heirs, and I don’t want children.”

  Her words fell like lead between them.

  Okay, that was a biggie. He wanted a family with her. He wanted to give her the family she’d never had. Yet, she’d rejected it out of hand, without even knowing what she was losing out on. He swallowed against the hard lump in his throat.

  This was starting to feel like a losing battle. What hope did he have of reaching her, when she’d spent so many years hardening her heart?

  Even though he knew that beneath all those layers, beneath all the hardness, lay a passionate, vibrant heart full of love. He’d known it the first night they met, and he’d been trying to get back there for months, but it seemed he’d been attempting the impossible. Like her father, she’d turned running away into an art form.

  She took another step back. Away from him. He felt the divide open between them, a gaping chasm that he had no idea how to cross.

  “This is neither the time nor place. We can discuss this later. Right now, we have a few thousand people waiting for us to take our seats so the concert can start.”

  Phoenix downed her margarita and nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  The acoustics in the outer bailey were incredible and the band was still as thrilling on stage as they’d been a decade earlier, but Phoenix found it impossible to focus on the concert. She longed for another margarita, anything to take the edge off her volatile emotions and taut nerves.

  While Max appeared to have forgotten their tiff and seemed to be enjoying the show, she couldn’t. She should have been happier. For weeks she’d helped plan this night and it was a phenomenal success.

  Too phenomenal a success. It had been so easy to stand beside Max and to smile and greet the new arrivals at the reception. The same skills that had brought her years of free drinks from strangers in bars had Max’s guests eating out of the palm of her hand. Even that stuffed-shirt prime minister had cracked a smile for her.

  Who could have guessed that a lifetime of moving on, of having to make friends in every new town, would give her exactly the skills she’d need to be a princess?

  But just because she could do the job, didn’t mean she should.

  Max would be far better off with a woman at his side who wouldn’t bring him or his family into disrepute. If the press ever found out about her drug conviction, she couldn’t even imagine the fall out in this conservative little country. And she never wanted Max to look at her the way he’d looked that night when he’d spoken of his mother’s secrets. Angry, hurt, betrayed. She couldn’t do that to him.

  No, it was better for Max and it was better for her that they called this whole thing off before any of that got out.

  He could sign those divorce papers waiting for him in California and she’d happily file them for him. Well, maybe not happily, but she’d do whatever had to be done to keep his reputation safe. And hopefully no-one would ever connect the ‘Max Waldburg’ on their marriage certificate to a foreign prince.

  She heaved a sigh. She’d have to force him into it. She knew better than anyone that once Max was focussed on what he wanted, he was unstoppable. He always got what he wanted and he wouldn’t let her go.

  She’d have to leave when he least expected it, without saying goodbye, or he’d talk her out of it. And she wasn’t placing any bets on her ability to withstand his persuasion.

  The band moved into a ballad and in the yard below the royal box lighters sparked into action, a sea of tiny lights waving in time to the music. The words of the familiar love song wrapped around her. Moved by the music and the poignant lyrics, her heart ached.

  Max wrapped his arms around her and leaned his chin on her shoulder and they swayed to the music. Phoenix closed her eyes, leaning back into him, drawing on his strength. But her mind was made up. She’d take this one last night with him, and tomorrow she’d pack her bags and slip away.

  Her head might be on board with the plan, but her heart was an altogether different matter. It wasn’t nearly so easy to convince and she didn’t hold out much hope of keeping her heart as safe or undamaged as Max’s reputation. All she could do now was prevent herself falling any further than she already had.

  His heat filtered through the elegant tuxedo he wore, through the much thinner layer of her dress, suffusing her in a lust-filled haze. No. The ‘L’ word was no longer Lust.

  It was Love.

  She loved Max and she’d do anything for him. Including leaving him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ignoring the ‘Closed’ sign on the café door, Max tried the handle. It turned and he pushed it open.

  “We’re not yet open.” Rebekah poked her head around the kitchen door. “Oh, it’s you. You look awful.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  He scowled. “Don’t mess with me, Rebekah. I’ve been to the apartment and I know she’s gone. Are you going to tell me where she is?”

  “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. If she wanted to see you, she wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

  This wasn’t happening all over again. He raked his hands through his hair and the sense of déjà-vu only grew stronger.

  Rebekah set her hands on her hips. “She’s my friend more than my employee, and I’m really mad at you for making her leave.”

  “I did not make her leave! I’ve been trying to persuade her to stay since the day we first met and I’m getting really tired of chasing after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.”

  “Have you ever wondered why she doesn’t want to be caught?”

  “Of course I bloody have.” He sank down into the nearest chair. It happened to be by the window where he was in full public view, but he couldn’t give a toss who spotted him right now. His heart had been torn out with a spoon and he had no energy left to spare on worrying whether his unshaved face would make tomorrow’s papers. “I know she’s scared of losing someone else she loves, but I have no idea how to convince her I’m not going to leave her.”

  “You can’t. There are no guarantees in life.” Rebekah slid into the chair across the table. “Just as you can’t hold her here against her will.”

  He nodded. Of course he didn’t want to trap Phoenix here. He wanted her happiness more than his own. But he still couldn’t believe she was happier without him.

  “She told me once that in me she’d found something to run to.” He rubbed his hands over his face. That night in Vegas seemed a lifetime ago. He’d been hanging on to his memories, but perhaps it was time to accept that for Phoenix that night had never existed.

  Rebekah rose, pausing midway as a thought struck her. “Have you told her you love her?”

  He stared.

  “Well?”

  Had he? He couldn’t honestly remember. He shrugged. It could hardly be that simple. “She knows.”

  Rebekah sighed. “Men!” Then her expression softened. “She said she wanted to go north for a while.”

  “If she sees the northern lights without me, I’m going to kill her.” If he ever saw her again.

  Once before, she’d disappeared off the face of the earth. She could do it again. And this time he had no faith in Destiny bringing her back to him. Destiny was a load of crock. If it were real, then Phoenix would have fallen as head over heels in love with him as h
e had with her and she wouldn’t keep running away.

  No, he had to face facts: her re-appearance in his life had been nothing more than coincidence, the legend of the sorceress was just another fairy tale and his wife didn’t love him.

  “I’m done chasing after her.”

  Rebekah’s expression shut down. “Then if you don’t mind, I have a café to open and you’re scaring away my customers.”

  He glanced up through the window at the two middle-aged women hovering uncertainly outside the front door.

  “Thanks for the talk, Bekah.”

  “Any time.” But she’d already turned her back on him.

  Phoenix settled into the chair at the one and only empty table at the busy waterfront café, ordered a chai latte and opened her book. Here she was, in an exotic European city of canals, great artworks and historic buildings, and all she could do was read?

  But somehow having something to do helped her forget she was alone again. That there was no-one to stroll hand-in-hand with along the canal, or take a boat trip with, or discuss books or ideas with, or laugh with. Or make love to.

  “Do you speak English?” At the sound of the very proper public school English accent, she looked up, into a pair of lively grey eyes below russet brown hair. “May I have a seat? Every other table is already full.” He waved around the café. He didn’t seem like a serial killer. In fact, he was quite attractive in a preppy sort of way. She nodded. “Feel free.”

  “Oh, you’re American.”

  She nodded again and returned to her novel.

  He didn’t take the hint. “The Rum Diary. Have you seen the movie?”

  She sighed and opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t want to see the movie, she wanted to read the book. In peace. But an image flashed in her head, stopping her in mid breath.

  She and Max had talked about books. She’d told him she hated seeing the movie before reading the book. But it had been Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas they’d talked about. She frowned. She couldn’t ever remember talking to Max about that book. Unless…

  “So are you travelling alone?”

  She closed the book and picked up her purse. “The table’s all yours.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I saw a beautiful woman sitting alone and instinct kicked in.” He smiled and there was a lot of charm in that smile. In another lifetime she might have looked twice after a smile like that. Now she wondered if she’d ever want to look twice again. There was only one man able to make her pulse race.

  She stood. “You seem like a nice guy but I’m not interested. I’m not available.”

  He looked genuinely crestfallen. “You’re not wearing a ring,” he pointed out.

  She looked at her left hand, as if seeing it for the first time. “You’re right. I’m not.”

  She strolled away, down the edge of the canal, the book tucked under her arm and her thoughts a million miles away.

  She and Khara had been on the night shift. They’d emerged from the casino’s staff entrance shortly after dawn, blinking in the dazzling light of a new day, still too wide awake and hyped to go home and sleep. So they’d gone for a drink.

  She was used to guys hitting on her and she was used to scoring free drinks. So when Max had bought her a drink, she’d figured ‘Why not?’

  The attraction had been instantaneous and mutual. Then he’d challenged her to a game of pool. She was really good at pool and he’d let her win that first game. The second had been more closely fought. The third … well, by then he’d won not just the game but her ‘yes’ to breakfast.

  He’d just flown in from Europe and his body clock was even more messed up than hers. They’d settled on pancakes…

  Phoenix screwed her eyes tight shut, blocking out the reflections of sunlight on water, and the noise of the tour boats plying the canal with speakers blaring.

  After breakfast they’d walked. It didn’t really matter where they went, only that they were together. Max held her hand and they talked about books and movies, about their dreams, about their families. They wandered into shops and laughed over kitsch tourist souvenirs and let a Japanese couple take their picture with Elvis in Madame Tussauds.

  They shared a late lunch, not in a fancy restaurant but in a diner she knew that served good, homely food. He told her about his father’s funeral. About how he finally felt free to follow his own path.

  She’d told him about the long weeks nursing her Dad through chemo. How his death had set her adrift, as if the anchor holding her together had been lost.

  The freedom he craved was the same freedom that had sent her running. She hadn’t realised she’d been running to something rather than away until she met Max.

  She’d been running towards a new life, a new destiny.

  They’d shared a bottle of wine and talked until the diner closed, and then they’d stood on the sidewalk, in the dazzling light of the neon signs of The Strip and another fiery Vegas sunset, and shared their first kiss.

  They stood, arms wrapped around each other, his hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans to pull her close against him, and he said: “I won’t mind if you think I’m completely out of my mind, because I probably am, but I’m in love with you.”

  Love. He’d used the L word within hours of knowing her. Not Lust, but Love. And the most insane part of it was, she’d felt it too.

  He hadn’t suggested they marry. She had.

  Standing on a street corner, with traffic blaring past and the thump of music beating up through the soles of their feet. I don’t ever want this day to end. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Isn’t that crazy?

  He took both of her hands in his and the shining look he turned on her, burning brighter than any neon sign, anchored her. She clung to it, feeling safe and rooted for the first time in her entire life.

  “Yes, it’s crazy.” His voice was soft and intense. “But this is the city of crazy. Let’s do it.” Right there on the sidewalk he got down on one knee. “Georgiana Phoenix Montgomery, will you marry me?”

  “I can’t.”

  He looked as though she’d hit him with a sledgehammer.

  “I’ve done some stupid things in my life. I was caught with cannabis once and I have a criminal record. What would it do to your family, and your country, if that ever got out?”

  He took both her hands in his. “I love that you make no apologies for who you are. It doesn’t matter to me what anyone else thinks, as long as you and I have no secrets. And if it ever gets out, then we’ll face it together.”

  She had to blink away the tears. For a moment, she hadn’t even known what the burning sensation in her eyes was. She raised a hand to her cheek to catch the droplets.

  Max looked aghast. “I’m sorry. I’m rushing this.”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t cried since I was ten years old.” She wiped away the tears, tears of joy rather than sadness. “We can’t get married just like that, though. We need a license.”

  “Then tomorrow.”

  “If we’re going to be crazy, why stop now? Khara’s lived here her whole life, perhaps she’ll know how to get a license.”

  While Khara’s brother sorted the legal stuff, Khara insisted on an instant make-over. “You can’t get married in jeans!” she’d said, aghast when Phoenix asked “Why not?”

  Since they were both too broke to go shopping, Khara loaned her a dress, a knee-length halter neck dress in soft ivory. And shoes with actual heels. She probably looked like Marilyn Monroe but she didn’t care. The look in Max’s eyes as she walked down the aisle alone was worth all the effort.

  There were no flowers, no cake, no rings, other than his old signet ring. Only simple vows spoken in low voices, that turned her into a princess. And she felt like a princess.

  They kissed, and Khara cried, and then they’d opened the champagne, and the chapel’s pianist had sprayed them with a glitter gun.

  “The closest thing we’ll get to a 21 gun salute,”
Max whispered, laughing as he bent to kiss her again.

  Then they’d said goodbye to Khara and her brother and Max took her back to his hotel room. The first time they’d made love, slowly exploring one another, she’d already had his ring on her finger.

  Phoenix blinked. She remembered everything. Including that horrible morning after and not even knowing who Max was. Tears stung her eyes and this time she let them fall. The relief was overwhelming.

  He’d known the worst there was to know about her and he’d still wanted her.

  How could she not have known him? How could she have hurt him like that? And she’d kept on hurting him, digging the knife in deeper, pushing him away every time he got too close.

  The real reason she’d pushed him away was because she’d been scared. Not of being trapped, or of losing her freedom. She’d been terrified of remembering how much she needed him. Of loving him so much that she couldn’t live without him.

  And Max had understood. Your courage is bigger than your fear, he’d said.

  She closed her eyes against the flood of emotion. This strange feeling overpowering her … this was how it felt to care, to care so deeply that you would do anything for the one you loved. Even take on any responsibility, any duty, just to be with them, to see them happy.

  “Don’t do it!”

  She opened her eyes to see a little old lady hurrying towards her, pulling along a dog on a lead. “Whatever burdens you carry, you can’t give up,” the woman said, breathless.

  Phoenix smiled, ecstatic. “You’re right. I can’t give up. I have to go back.”

  She turned away from the canal, leaving the bewildered woman open-mouthed.

  She didn’t know if she’d make it back to Waldburg in time for the coronation. She wouldn’t blame Max if he never wanted to see her again after all the pain she’d put him through. But she had to try.

  Chapter Twelve

  Every bus, boat and car in Westerwald was headed into Waldburg but even so, she’d been hard pressed to find a seat. As the packed bus wound along the road that ran beside the Wester river all the way from the big city of Neustadt to the far older town of Waldburg, Phoenix couldn’t help but share the excitement of the people around her.