WHEN
IT DOESN’T STAY IN VEGAS
Amy
Valentini
A Brand New Standalone
Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Coming Valentine’s Day,
February 14, 2019
Things
that happen in Vegas need to stay in Vegas…
After in indulging in
too much champagne and a one-night stand in Vegas with a very sexy man, Abby
Matheson prays what happened there stays there. Only she can’t get the
incredibly passionate night with the amazing man out of her head.
Mitch Braxton can’t
forget the incredible woman he spent a passionate night with only to find her
gone in the morning having left no note behind—only her crystal heart pendant.
Unable to even recall her name, he fears he will never see her again.
When it
doesn’t stay in Vegas…
When Abby discovers her
mystery man is the CEO of a company her boss is determined to take over, she
must forget the man as well as that night. Her hope is no one finds out about
Vegas because the merger and her job are now on the line. Discovering Mitch at
his sister’s wedding is the last thing she expects and even as she tries to
keep her distance, she wants him even more. Is it once more just lust or is
there wedding magic in the air? And will she lose her
heart as well as her career?
Chapter One
Things that happen in Vegas
need to stay in Vegas.
“Lord help me, I hope that’s true,” Abigail Matheson
whispered under her breath.
The silent yet repeating Las Vegas mantra scrolled through her
brain as she slowly eased the door closed on the hotel room—correction—amazing
penthouse suite. Stopping just before it closed completely, she took one final
glance at the gorgeous sexy man still sleeping in the bed where she spent one
of the most incredible nights ever in her twenty-eight years of living…then
sighed. Whether from regret knowing she’d never see him again or for allowing
her lustful desires to cause her to succumb to too much champagne, she wasn’t
sure. Yes, it was a foolish one-night stand coming on the recent heels of
discovering her fiancé—well, fiancé that was—was about to become a father with
the woman he’d cheated on her with after having proposed to her. It was
possible she now had regrets but what if…what if there was a chance for more.
The ding of the elevator down the hall made her flinch and
her hand slipped off the door handle. As the door clicked shut, she gasped then
let it turn into a low groan. Damn, now she wondered if maybe she should’ve
left him a note. She groaned aloud this time, louder than she meant. No, it was
definitely better this way, she thought staring at the closed door. They were mere
minions in the bigger scheme of things and surely, she would never see him
again. Hell, he didn’t even know her last name since she was reasonably sure
she hadn’t told him. He was just Mitch, just as she was merely Abby. Now she
wished she’d asked him his name, or told him hers. What if he decided to try to
find her…no, it was better this way. She’d probably be home in Chicago before
he even woke. Besides, the last thing she needed in her life now, or anytime in
the near future, was a man. She’d had more than her share of the lies,
betrayal, and it being all about them without regard to her feelings or needs
which came with being involved.
Moaning low, Abby leaned her dull aching head against the
cool surface of the wall alongside the door wishing she could think clearer.
Their night together had been incredible. Yes, too much champagne had fueled it
in the beginning but from the moment their lips first touched, an explosion of
intense arousal began burning which even hours of amazing sex hadn’t been able
to douse. Of course, now she was paying the price with both regret, and a head-splitting
hangover.
It had been
incredible though, breathtakingly incredible. Lifting her head, she stared at
the closed door. She wanted to knock, wake him and when he answered the door,
leap into his muscular arms and beg him to ravish her body one more time before
she had to go back to her now, in comparison, mundane life. Just then, the
alarm on her cell phone went off.
Shit!
Abby scurried down the hall toward the group of elevators
while searching in her bag for the damn device. Retrieving it, she silenced the
obnoxious old timey car horn sound filling the otherwise quiet hallway. Noticing
the time on her phone, she had just enough time to get to her room, clean up,
gather her things, and get to the airport. She punched the elevator button.
“So much for waking sleeping beauty for another round of hot
naughty sex,” she grumbled while wondering whether she’d survive, or more
likely not survive, the flight home with her head throbbing and her stomach
roiling.
Wasn’t this always the way for her? It was just like when
her best friend asked her to be a bridesmaid in her upcoming wedding. All she
could think was what her grandmother had always said about her maiden aunt who
died far too young and unmarried—always a bridesmaid, never a bride. That was Abby.
Having already been in fifteen weddings as a bridesmaid since high school now, in
less than a month, she was going to don yet another frou-frou style dress and
watch yet another one of her friends marry the man of her dreams. She wasn’t
looking forward to standing there with her best I’m so happy for you smile, and then hiding in a corner hoping no
one would notice her so she could avoid teasing about her finding the one. There was no one for her and frankly, she didn’t want
there to be.
The elevator doors opened and Abby stepped inside. As she
turned to press the number for her floor, she wondered if her luck, or lack
thereof, would make the plane crash on the way home so she didn’t have to face
not catching a bouquet yet again. What was the difference anyway since she had
no man? Not even a date for the blasted wedding. She leaned against the back
wall, closed her eyes, and exhaled a long breath. No, her luck never went her
way—well, except maybe last night.
As the elevator ride made her stomach turn unpleasantly her
thoughts returned to the man she’d left sleeping with his dark wavy hair, eyes
the color of sweet warm honey, and so many muscles. Oh, he had such deliciously
carved muscles, which flinched and shifted under her fingertips as he made her experience
sensations she never knew her body could feel.
Damn, her luck sucked big time. Vegas could keep its
secrets. Hers were going with her, because it was all she had.
~**~
The sound of a strange sounding car horn pulled Mitch from
the best dream he’d had since perhaps college. He was kissing an incredibly beautiful
woman with silky reddish colored hair, which felt like spun silk gliding over
his fingers. She’d fit in his arms as no other woman ever had—not even the one
who had destroyed his heart—and her lips definitely tasted like sweet wine.
Damn whatever disturbed him because now he was awake, and
didn’t want to be. His head ached and his eyes felt like someone had thrown a
bucket of grit in them. Rolling over, he pulled a nearby pillow over his head.
Suddenly, he sat up with a low groan his head rebelling against the sudden
movement. Settling slowly back against his pillow, he pressed the other one to
his face. Her scent, it was there. She was real. She hadn’t just lived in his
dreams after all. She’d really been here—in his bed, and in his arms.
Mitch Braxton glanced around the palatial hotel room. Pulling
himself slowly up to sit on the side of the king-size bed still gripping the
pillow, he waited for the room to stop spinning. Had she truly been real? He squinted
in the direction of the other side of the bed. Someone had definitely been
there by the way the covers lay folded back at an angle. The sheets were
rumpled and there were a few loose strands of long hair left behind. Something
glittered where another pillow lay cock-eyed on the bed. Sliding his hand over
toward it, he pinched it from the covers. Lifting his hand and squinting
through aching eyelids, he realized it was a heart-shaped crystal on a delicate
gold chain.
So she really had been here with him last night. It wasn’t a
dream. He remembered lifting the beautiful simple heart away from warm soft
skin and her telling him something about her father, but now it was all hazy as
if mired in a fog. Mitch closed his eyes and clutched the necklace to his
chest.
He remembered now. After returning from his less than
enjoyable meeting with the man who wished to put him out of business, he’d seen
her sitting quietly by the pool with a sad expression instead of enjoying
herself with the other partiers dancing and boozing inside the club. He’d asked
her if there was something, anything at all, he could do to make her smile and
she’d responded by asking him if all men were liars. Well, he certainly
couldn’t stand by and allow her to make such a sweeping generalization about
his entire gender so of course, he’d told her that they most certainly were
not. Remembering how she’d laughed at his remark, the sound was better than any
music escaping the sliding doors to the club. Handing her his glass, he had
filled it from the bottle of champagne he’d retrieved from the bar. He was
supposed to be celebrating the prospective sale of his company to the almighty
king of social media networking, Jack Morgan, but couldn’t bring himself to
feel anything but regret about it since Brax, Inc. was his pride and joy.
After she’d unloaded her thoughts on how men cheat and lie.
After she’d exclaimed how she was never falling in love again, and would never
marry because she was an independent woman and had no need of man, they had shared
a few more drinks. Soon they were riding the elevator up to her floor but when
the doors opened, they were too busy kissing to notice. The elevator continued
to the top floor where his very grand penthouse suite awaited them. The bottle
of champagne they’d had with them was nearly empty but fortunately, there was
another in the mini-bar.
Remembering having drunk entirely too much champagne, Mitch glanced
toward the coffee table in front of a small sofa and sure enough, on it an
empty bottle rested on its side accompanied by two empty glasses. One thing he
clearly remembered was that he hadn’t been too drunk to enjoy the delights
she’d shared with him.
Pushing himself forward, he grabbed the nightstand next to the
bed and slowly climbed to his feet. After waiting for a brief spell of nausea
to pass, he looked to each of the end tables expectantly, and then the coffee
table—no note, nothing. He moved slowly toward the small kitchen off the living
area with the hope she might have left something there for him—with perhaps her
name and number on it.
Shit! What was her name? Annie? No,
it wasn’t that but close to it, he was sure or hoped anyway. Rubbing his eyes,
he wished he could think better. Damn, but he wished he could remember her
name. If he knew her name, he could call the front desk and find out who she
was. Maybe he could anyway. After all, how many women had rooms on the…oh hell,
which floor had she told him her room was on? Then again, how would he explain
not even knowing her first name or why he wanted to find her?
“Damn!”
Sitting with a groan on the sofa, which was as far as he
could manage right now, he hugged the pillow carrying her scent. He was getting
too old for this kind of stuff. At thirty-five, he was tiring of the chase and subsequent
escape from most relationships with women. He wanted something special. Of
course, he’d had something special once or so he’d thought, but when he was
ready to make his love for her permanent, she’d abandoned him for another man. Perhaps
love and he weren’t meant to coexist. After all, he’d been completely wrong
then and now, expected never to have it for real ever again. Still, he couldn’t
deny he wanted what his kid sister, well stepsister actually, was about to embrace
by marrying the man who had swept her off her feet in a mere six months.
He truly envied his sweet little sister, Caroline, her impending
nuptials. Of course, he’d never admit it to her or to his mother who was always
pleading with him to find a nice
girl, settle down, and give her grandchildren. Closing his eyes at the thought,
he knew he wanted it all the same, but a man can’t always have what he wants.
It takes two to make it work and trusting a woman again was something he wasn’t
sure he was ready to do.
Mitch inhaled deeply from the pillow in his arms. Wow, his
mystery lady had smelled like heaven. He remembered that about her. She smelled
like a freshly made vanilla shake, the kind so thick and creamy that the straw
stood up straight in the middle of the glass and to drink it, he’d have to suck
so hard he’d nearly pass out from the lack of air. That was what it was like
last night. Making love to her was just like sucking the sweet deliciousness of
a thick shake through a straw, and he probably had passed out after climbing so
high with passion he couldn’t even remember her name. Her eyes, however, he did
remember her eyes. They were green like newly emerged leaves on a spring day.
He’d never seen eyes like hers before. They were green but seemed to sparkle
like an opal gem with bits of gray-blue, gold, and amber slipping around a dark
center and cast against a bed of new leaves.
Angie? Is her name Angie? Shit!
An annoying electronic tonal sound, which he imagined
someone had once thought musical, sounded off from his jacket as it lay across
a nearby chair. Glancing at the digital clock on the table next to the bed, he
groaned because he knew he was in trouble. He’d missed his flight back to Los
Angeles, and had no doubt whatsoever the missed call was from Elise, his very
diligent, very prompt and at times, very obsessive-compulsive assistant.
Mitch decided a shower was necessary before he spoke to
Elise. His assistant was the best in the world, but entirely too obsessed with
details. Yes, he was supposed to be back in LA for a meeting with his lawyer
this afternoon but really, was it imperative he be back first thing in the
morning? Obviously, Elise thought so which was why she’d booked him on an early
flight out of Las Vegas this morning. Normally, he wouldn’t mind but this
morning, he just wanted a bus to hit him and put him out of his misery.
As he headed for the bathroom, he wondered if he should put
his feisty little Latina assistant on the trail of the mystery woman who very
well may have stolen his heart with a kiss, and then run off like Cinderella
after the ball without even a glass slipper to help him find her. Only a
delicate glass heart as fragile as his own, which he’d never be able to match
to its owner. He wished she’d stayed or at least woke him before leaving.
Perhaps she is married. No, he remembered her railing
about men and never marrying.
Who is she then? Somehow, he suspected she
wasn’t going to disappear from his thoughts any time soon. He also knew he
definitely would like to see her again, even if they had put the cart before
the horse, so to speak.
There’s little chance of ever
finding her. On the
other hand, Elise could find out anything about anyone, even if she had to
bully it out of someone just like she usually did him.
Vegas! Why did I have to meet such a woman in Vegas?
Stepping into the shower with a slim hope of warding off the
hangover pounding at him, he doubted he’d get any information about her here.
No one ever gave up information here—ever!
—When It Doesn’t Stay in Vegas by Amy Valentini
I hope you’re as excited about reading this Rom-Com treat as
I am about bringing it to you.
Happy Reading Everyone!
Prescott Lane is the author of First Position,
Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, and Wrapped in Lace. She is originally from
Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane
University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New
Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at
the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father
for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren’t
enough happily ever afters in real life.
