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What wasn’t cool was the flush that blossomed where his fingers had touched her skin. She couldn’t deny the chemistry between them, nor would she be able to avoid it much longer.
“Where are my clothes?” She eyed the now empty armchair where she’d discarded her jeans and T-shirt.
“Housekeeping have taken them for cleaning. You had half the desert in them.”
“I hope you don’t think you’re going to keep me hostage here with nothing to wear but this bathrobe?”
He shook his head. “I got you something a little more suitable. You’re not going to need jeans or a bathrobe where we’re going tonight.”
Without a word, she followed his gaze to the living room where a small mountain of branded boxes stood ready and waiting.
“I wasn’t sure of your size, so I asked them to send up a range.”
Her jaw dropped open. “What exactly do you have planned for this evening?”
Aside from the obvious? “For a start, dinner at Le Cirque.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve always wanted to eat at Le Cirque.”
He only just stopped himself in time from saying ‘I know’. She didn’t like that he remembered so much while she remembered nothing.
Yesterday, in that blissful, whirlwind day they’d spent getting to know each other, she’d told him how frugally she lived, scraping together every spare cent for her trip around Europe. Money was the only thing she lacked, and Max wasn’t above awing her with it to keep her at his side until she succumbed to the passion burning between them.
Max placed his hand on Phoenix’s lower back as they threaded between the tables, enjoying the soft sway of her movement beneath his hand. He must remember to thank the lovely lady at the concierge desk for her superb taste. The wrap-around silk dress in a delicate shade of teal moulded to Phoenix’s curves like a second skin. It was classy and sexy at the same time, and he was having a problem keeping his hands off her.
The famous restaurant, with its decorated walls and swathes of bright-coloured fabric overhead, was surprisingly intimate and elegant for a room decorated to resemble the inside of a circus tent. The maître d’ seated them at one of the most sought-after tables, at a picture window overlooking the Bellagio’s famous fountains. Lyrical piano music underscored the muted sounds of conversation. Max held out her chair for her, before taking his own seat across the table.
While Phoenix studied the menu, Max chatted to the sommelier, finally ordering a bottle of wine from his own vineyard. In the time it took for the wine to arrive, he entertained Phoenix with a history of the wine they’d be drinking. Her eyes didn’t glaze over, and she asked intelligent questions, so he figured she wasn’t faking being interested.
“You love what you do,” she observed, smiling and softening towards him as she first breathed in the aroma of the wine, then took a cautious sip. “Nice. Though I have to admit I know absolutely nothing about wine except how to drink it.”
“Then you’ll be my most honest critic.” Her honesty was one of the most appealing things about her. He swirled the wine around in his glass. “Last night you told me you moved to Vegas because you lived here as a child. Tell me about it.”
“I’m the one at the disadvantage here. You already know so much about me. Tell me about yourself.”
He shook his head. “I’ll get my turn.” He wanted her to talk about herself, to relax and open up. In his experience, most people felt more comfortable talking than listening. He’d been trained to be a very good listener.
Phoenix didn’t look at him but focussed her eyes instead on the view beyond the expansive windows. “The year we lived here was the happiest time I remember. Not that I wasn’t happy a lot in my childhood, but my mother was still alive then. She sang in a show at one of the big hotels. She had the most beautiful bluesy voice imaginable.”
Her mother, he remembered, had died less than a year after they’d left Vegas. Phoenix had been only ten. He couldn’t imagine losing his mother. He’d been so lucky, surrounded by adoring parents, his beloved grandmother, nannies, and a brother who’d been in equal measure his best friend and greatest rival.
“My father had a day job playing piano in a classy restaurant much like this one,” she continued. “We had dinner together as a family every night, and then Mom would read me a bedtime story, tuck me into bed, and go out to work.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Most of the time.” Her restless fingers played with the stem of the wine glass. “But like everything in life, it didn’t last. Daddy hated it – playing piano for people who barely heard it. As with all true artists, he needed to be challenged, to try new things. So he joined a rock band, Mom left the show, and we followed him on tour. After that, I don’t remember spending more than six months in any one place.”
“Must have been tough getting a decent education when you kept moving.”
She shrugged again. “I got the best education anyone could ask for. I’m a graduate of the University of Life.” She smiled that wide smile that lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle. There were gold specks in her dark eyes, he noticed, that gave her a luminous quality. “There’s probably not much I haven’t seen or done. And I read a lot. You can find out everything you need to know from books.”
He didn’t disagree. But her education was a world away from his. He thought of the six years he’d spent in an elite French boarding school, tied to a desk where books had been dry and dull, and life beyond the windows had seemed to pass him by. He’d dreamed of a life like hers.
He’d been destined for Oxford and the kind of studies that would turn him into a good diplomat, an asset to his country. A dull asset to his country. Until he’d bucked the system and chosen to study wine-making in California instead. His father had hit the roof and their relationship had never been the same since. Never would be, now his father was dead.
“What are you thinking about?” Phoenix asked. She laid a hand on his, and the heat radiating from her was both electric and calming at the same time, like being burrowed in bed beneath a warm duvet during a storm.
“I think we should order our meal. Have you chosen yet what you want?”
She frowned and released his hand.
Once he’d summoned the waiter, and they’d placed their orders, Phoenix turned her direct gaze on him.
He tensed. He’d told her a lot about himself yesterday. Now in the clear light of day, or at any rate the clear light of the sunset deepening over the desert, he was sure those confidences were better kept in the dark. He didn’t want to freak her out until she knew him better.
“Tell me about your family,” she prompted.
He sucked in a breath. This was the question he most hated. From the moment he’d been old enough to talk he’d been cautioned not to talk about family. One never knew what would make its way to the ears of the press. Which was why last night he’d chosen the most discreet chapel they could find in Vegas and why he’d used his fake ID.
But today Phoenix didn’t have a clue who he really was. She saw him as nothing more than what he’d become, a Californian vintner. There was a freedom in that.
He sipped his wine, taking a moment to think through what he would say, how to skirt the truth without lying. He valued honesty above all else, and didn’t want to start their married life with lies. “My father inherited the family business. He’s always been big on duty and family.”
“Was his death sudden or expected?” Phoenix cupped her chin in her hand, listening avidly.
“Very sudden. He had high blood pressure for years, but this was his first heart attack and he was dead within half an hour.”
Sympathy filled her eyes. She nodded. “How are you holding up?”
No-one but Grandfather had asked him that before now. Back home in Westerwald the only thing everyone had been concerned with was “what now?”
He’d told the old man he wasn’t sure. He still wasn’t. “We were never that close. Rik was always our father’s favourite son, the one most like him.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Her gaze sharpened. She wasn’t going to let him get away with the evasion.
“Conflicted. I feel guilty that I didn’t make amends before he died. And of course I’ll miss him. He was a big presence in my life, even if we never saw eye to eye.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in there.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “But now that he’s gone, I feel as if I’m finally free of his expectations. Rik will take over the family business and I’m free to do what I want.”
“How does your brother feel having to take over the business while you get to do whatever you want?”
He shrugged. “Rik has always been big on duty and family too. He’s perfect for the job.”
“And what is it you want to do with all this freedom?”
This was how they’d talked last night. She hadn’t been afraid to ask him the hard questions. The déjà-vu was both surreal and reassuring. The same connection they’d had last night was still there. She understood him. She listened. It hadn’t been a mirage.
“I want to live life on my own terms, doing what I want, going wherever I want, when I want.” He took her hand, entwining his fingers through hers. “And with whomever I want.”
She caught the emphasis on his final word, and bit her lip. But she didn’t pull her hand away.
“And I want to make good wine. There’s a tremendous amount of satisfaction in making something that brings joy to others, even if it is only for a fleeting moment in time. Yesterday you told me that’s exactly how your father felt about being a musician.”
She nodded.
“And you told me you want to live life on your own terms too.” He grinned. “In those exact words.”
“I do.” She blushed as her words echoed between them. She shook her head. “But my terms don’t include marriage and children and mortgages.”
He laughed. “I can promise you won’t ever have to worry about a mortgage with me. And I’m in no hurry for children.”
“Tell me about your brother.” She was changing the subject, putting him off. That was fine by him. They had plenty of time to talk about starting a family of their own.
“Rik and I have always been close, though I guess we’re like dark and light. He’s the serious, thoughtful, dutiful one, and I’m the easy-going, push-the-boundaries one.”
She nodded again, expression thoughtful. “I never had any siblings. I’m always curious how other people manage to share their parents. I’m glad I never had to.”
“We never needed to share either. Rik was always our father’s child, and I was our mother’s. She had a higher tolerance level.”
“Were you that naughty? No, don’t answer that, of course you were.” She laughed, a husky, sensual sound. “But what are you doing here now? Shouldn’t you be with your family?”
He shrugged. “I’m here for the same reason you are. To have a party and celebrate the fact that it feels good to be alive.”
Amusement lit her eyes. “And you thought getting hitched was a great way to celebrate being alive?”
“I didn’t expect to meet my one true love here in Vegas, but now it’s happened, everything’s changed. I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re insane, you know that? You don’t surely believe in true love and fairy tales, and all that nonsense?”
“Why not? Don’t you feel this connection between us?”
“What I feel for you isn’t a connection. It’s lust. Pure and simple.”
Pure and simple. Exactly the words he would have chosen for the state of his feelings for this wild, complicated, beautiful woman. But it wasn’t merely lust he was feeling. He was well acquainted with lust, and this was a whole lot more.
But if that was all she would admit to, he could work with that.
The waiter appeared at her elbow, sliding their plates onto the table. When he attempted to refill Phoenix’s wine glass, she put her hand over it. “No more for me.” She sent the waiter a smile that had the poor man near melting.
“Is there anything else I can get you, ma’am?”
“No, thank you.”
Alone again, her smile dropped as she turned back to him. “So did your parents fall in love at first sight and live happily ever after then?”
Max smiled, warmed by the memory of a family story he’d heard over and over. “Pretty much. It started as a business merger of sorts. She was a model, stunningly beautiful, and my father’s…board…decided she would bring a glamour and freshness to the company image. But from the moment they met, that was it. Destiny stepped in. By the time they married, they were very much in love, and haven’t spent a night apart since.”
“This must be a tough time for her then. So you plan to drop in on her while she’s still in mourning and say ‘Hi Mom, this is my wife. I know you haven’t met her yet, but wey-hey it was love at first sight.’?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted. “I tend to just go with the flow in life.” He stared at the reflections in the surface of the golden wine. “But I don’t want to keep this from her for too long – we don’t have secrets in our family. But you’re right, now probably wouldn’t be the best time to break the news. We’ll leave my family out of it for a while. But you’ll meet my Grandfather when we go back to Napa.”
“I am not going anywhere with you. Except to find a lawyer to help us do whatever we need to do to erase the past twenty four hours.”
She was certainly tenacious, he’d give her that. But if wine-making had taught him anything, it was patience. “Eat up. We have tickets for the show tonight.”
“What show?”
“Cirque du Soleil, of course.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t keep my mouth shut last night, could I?”
“Is it so bad that I know so much about you, your dreams and desires, and want to make them happen? All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride.”
She clamped her mouth shut and focused on her food but her demeanour still screamed defiance. Max could hardly blame her. If it was him with no memory of their marriage, he’d probably also balk at the thought of being trapped. No matter how gilded the cage.
Only for him this didn’t feel like being trapped. It felt like coming home. It felt inevitable.
So he humoured her mood. He had no doubt she’d thaw when she had some time to absorb last night’s events or remember them, whichever came first.
By the time their chocolate soufflé and coffees arrived, she’d warmed enough to question him about his studies and about the vineyard. These were easy questions, readily answered without too much thought, and when they were done and he’d paid the bill, she even let him take her hand as they walked out the hotel.
It was rather nice to walk hand in hand with a man who made her heart beat as fast as any adrenaline rush. They circled the vast plaza in front of the Bellagio Hotel and paused to look at the hundreds of fountains dancing in the waning light. A light breeze lifted the spray off the fountains and drifted it across to where they stood. The fine mist brought welcome relief from the heavy evening heat.
The sky overhead was the colour of blood, full of the drama and passion that only the desert could produce, a million specks of dust reflecting the sun’s dying light.
For a mad moment she closed her eyes and wondered what it would be like, to let herself fall dizzyingly in love with someone, to give in to the passion.
She’d believed she was in love with life. But a sneaky feeling had started to creep up on her today, perhaps even since last night, that she hadn’t really been alive until she’d met Max. She’d done crazy things before, tried every adrenaline rush she could find, and loved the thrill of being on the very edge of terror, yet somehow simply being with someone who warmed her from the inside out, was a whole different kind of rush.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in lust before. This was … different.
Max stood behind her, one arm wrapped loosely around her waist, and she couldn’t tear herself out of his embrace. She leaned against the railing, watching the water catch the setting sunlight in a million rainbows. She sighed. It felt too damned nice to be held.
Clearly it had felt pretty nice yesterday too for her to have done the unthinkable and married Max. What had possessed her? If only she could remember…
“What are you thinking?” he whispered in her ear.
“I wish I could bottle and sell moments like these. Soon it’ll be dark, and the magic will be gone.” She shivered. Nothing ever lasted. Nothing stayed the same. Change was the only constant. Relocation, death, amnesia.
The only way to cope when the things you loved were gone was to not let yourself feel. And with Max, she was very much in danger of letting herself feel.
She shook herself. “Let’s get going. I don’t want to miss the show.”
She wasn’t surprised to find their seats were the best in the house. Max did nothing by halves, it seemed. Since her first job in Vegas had been scalping tickets, she had a pretty good idea how much they’d set him back. Most people booked months in advance, and he’d made one phone call and got the very best.
If there was one thing she’d learned about Max today, it was that his wealth hadn’t come as a recent windfall. He had that casual attitude towards money that marked him as born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth.
