Romy Sommer - Waking up in Vegas - A Royal Romance to Remember!

He wasn’t going to let her be, was he? If she didn’t go out there and face the music, he’d probably call Security to bang the door down. Actually, that could work…

But if she had to sit still another moment longer, she’d go mental. “I’m fine. I like my coffee black, one sugar.”

When she heard the clatter of coffee cups in the distance, her stomach growled. Maybe staying for coffee wouldn’t be so bad. She could explain this was all a big mistake, get dressed and leave like any rational person. She could do rational.

But if she was going to do this, she wanted a rough idea of who her host was, where she was, and how to get home.

She rummaged through the bathroom cupboard. There was nothing there except the usual hotel branded toiletries. At least now she knew where she was. The Mandarin Oriental.

Talk about getting lucky. She’d always wanted to spend a night at the Mandarin.

Next, she tackled the leather toiletry bag beside the sink. Jackpot!

A small container of headache tablets with the name Max Waldburg and the contact details of a pharmacy in Napa.

Mrs. Waldburg … no, that definitely didn’t sound like her. Hell, Mrs. Anything didn’t sound like her. She was a tumbleweed, an adventurer, not a married woman tied to some man she barely knew.

She swallowed one of the tablets, combed her hair, then found a complementary airline toothbrush and toothpaste in the bag, and brushed her teeth.

Okay, she was as ready as she was ever going to be. Sucking in a deep breath, she headed for the door.

The first thing to assault her senses as she emerged from the bathroom was the scent of bacon. Her stomach flipped in ecstasy. She was starved. Maybe coffee and bacon, and then she’d get away.

The suite was decorated in a slick Asian design, in soft creams and browns, but what grabbed her attention was the panoramic cityscape beyond the floor to ceiling windows. It looked a whole lot better from this angle, when you weren’t dangling over the drop.

Max sprawled on the sofa, reading a newspaper. He grinned up at her, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “Ready to eat?” He waved at the dining table that had been set for two. Including polished silver cutlery and a crystal vase full of yellow roses.

He set aside the newspaper and moved to join her at the table. “The flowers are for you, to make up for the ones you didn’t have at our wedding yesterday.”

Did he know they were her favourites? She shook her head. She didn’t want to know how much he knew about her from yesterday. And she hadn’t even been able to remember his name. Guilt and shame crowded her, but she pushed them aside. Life was too short for regrets.

And with her stomach doing some serious complaining, life was also too short to reject a good meal, no matter how awkward the circumstances. Who knew when she was ever going to afford to eat at the Mandarin again?

Pulling on her metaphoric big girl pants, she sat across from Max at the table and spread the real linen napkin across her lap. No paper napkins here.

And the bacon was every bit as good as it smelled. Like a good girl, she drank the glass of orange juice Max handed her. He was right about one thing; she felt a whole lot better with the food and juice inside her. It certainly beat her usual bowl of cereal, eaten standing up in her elbow-room-only kitchenette. And the view was way better, without looking at what lay beyond the windows. Wasn’t it just her luck that she pulled the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, and she couldn’t remember any of it?

When they were done, Max cleared away the plates and poured the coffee. Fresh, full-roasted coffee with cream. Phoenix couldn’t help but lick her lips in anticipation.

Max rocked his chair back as he sipped his coffee. “So what shall we do today?”

“I need to get to work.” Or anywhere but here. Besides, if this was really tomorrow, then she was supposed to switch to the day shift today.

“No, you don’t. Khara offered to take your shift today, remember? After all, we’re on honeymoon.”

Khara was in on this? Phoenix was going to wring her neck as soon as she got back to work. Friends weren’t supposed to let friends drive drunk. Or get married while drunk, either.

She swigged down a mouthful of fortifying caffeine. “Well now, that’s kind of the problem. I don’t remember.”

Max’s forehead furrowed. “What don’t you remember?”

“Everything. Anything. The last thing I remember was you offering to buy me a drink in the pool hall.”

She wished she had a camera for the expression on his face. Floored didn’t even begin to cover it.

Then a smile crinkled the edges of his eyes. He obviously smiled often, because the crinkles deepened so naturally. “I guess I’ll have to remind you, then.”

With a grace she could only hope to emulate, he rocked his chair forward and grasped her seat with both hands, yanking her closer.

He wasn’t even touching her, yet his proximity sent a rush of static heat through her. And when he slid a rough hand up her thigh, parting the robe … now she understood why she’d married him. Endorphin city. The sex must have been the best of her life. She damned well hoped her memory returned soon, because there wasn’t going to be a repeat performance anytime soon.

She pushed his hand away and clamped the front of her robe closed. Clamped her knees shut too, but that was more to ward off the sudden wave of desire shooting through her. He had her wet and needy and all he’d done was touch her leg.

She shifted her chair away from him, far enough away that she could breathe again, and reached for her coffee cup. “So tell me about yourself.”

His brow furrowed again. “You seriously don’t remember anything from last night?”

She shook her head.

He blew out his breath, grinned and stuck out his hand. “Hi, my name is Max. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss…?”

“ Ms. Montgomery.” She couldn’t help but smile back. He had that kind of infectious grin that was really hard to resist. “But you can call me Phoenix.”

“Interesting name. Is it your real name or a nickname?”

“I’m not telling. At least not until we’ve dated at least six months.” And none of her relationships ever lasted that long.

“Okay. But if you prefer, I can always call you Georgiana.”

She flushed all the way down to the roots of her hair. How much had she told this complete stranger yesterday? She never told anyone her real name. “Since I’m obviously at the disadvantage here, I don’t suppose we could speed this up a little? Like full name, place of birth, age, job description?” The reason why I married a complete stranger?

He eyed her for a long moment and she resisted the urge to squirm. For a mad second she thought he was weighing something up and deciding how much to tell her. God, she hoped he wasn’t a con man. That would be awkward if she was left with the bill for this fancy suite. She didn’t think her life savings would stretch to breakfast, let alone a night in this hotel.

Then he smiled, mouth wide, eyes crinkling, and her heart thundered against her chest. With a smile like that, it was amazing he was still single. Well, single enough to marry her, of course.

Assuming he wasn’t some Mormon with three wives back home. Was bigamy legal here in Nevada?

“Max Waldburg. I was born in a tiny principality in Europe you won’t have heard of, my age is on our marriage contract, and I work for my grandfather on his farm.”

Farm. Napa. Something clicked. “A vineyard. You make wine.”

“I’m a vintner, yes. Five years of studying viticulture, and a whole lot more as an apprentice to my grandfather, and the critics say I’m getting quite good at it.”