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Oh, if only he knew…
When I met and fell in love with Sean Anderson he was about as average as every other man. Husband, father, journalist… I’d like nothing more than an average guy who doesn’t care that I’m supposed to be Krystal Valentina.
CHAPTER 5
ASHLEIGH
A hoarse groan reverberates along my very sensitive nerves.
Whoever he is, his pain mirrors the thumping dance beat of nightclub music still echoing inside my head. My eyes protest to the sunlight as I attempt to view the stranger in my bed with one eye.
Or am I in his?
I have no idea. The last thing I remember is being tied to a guy with red vines and winning a drinking race. Or did I dream that too?
“I don't remember anything.” Why do I recognize his voice? “Oh, yes. Now I do.” He chuckles. “I remember strawberry flavored laces. And…” he chuckles again. “Lucky by name, very lucky by nature.” The movement on the bed suggests he's run a hand over his face as my cell phone beeps at the side of the bed.
The effort of rolling causes every muscle in my body to scream, especially those most vulnerable ones. I groan, the sound vibrating through my body and rattling endlessly to the beat in my brain. I shouldn’t have gone out last night. This isn’t the normal hangover from hell. I didn’t even drink that much. This is... it’s... oh, God! It’s alcohol and medication induced memory loss!
Why would you want to lose more of your life when you’re already missing three months, you idiot!
Well, I glance around the familiar room, at least I’m in my bed, and that means I’m in my suite, which means Ryder is sleeping in the suite’s other bedroom just across the hallway if this guy gives me any trouble. I might be a third dan judo instructor, but I’d never win anything in my condition.
“Are you going to get that?”
My left hand fumbles for the device blasting like a megaphone. One bright flash of gold and my hand freezes mid-stretch. I glare at the offensive foreign object on my hand.
Third finger…?
Left hand…?
Las Vegas…?
Oh, God! NO!
I turn to face my one-night stand. A familiar face turns to look at me. “Holy—”
My harsh curse is cut off by a much more severe one from his filthy mouth that’s followed by my name from the man beside me. The color drains from his face as he stares at his own left hand. “Tell me we didn't get hitched.”
“No!” I scramble out of the bed, ignoring the fact I’m completely naked and my back screams in protest from the marathon sprint attempt to get away from him. “We couldn't have.”
I snatch a hotel robe from a close by chair as his eyes widen—God, those rich dark eyes are beautiful. They can suck me in from across a crowded room. Everyone and everything else is lost on me when he’s in the room.
…Mr. Hot and Handsome in the black shirt. The one with dark hair and even darker eyes…
I thought he was a look-a-like!
“Did you buy me a drink last night?” I ask and he looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. I totally get that look. “Forget it. Why would you buy me a drink in a nightclub like we’re strangers when you’ve pretended I don’t exist for the past twelve months?”
“Why would I buy you a drink at all?” Sean throws back the covers and stands in all his naked glory. All his six-foot-two inches of lean sculptured muscles like he’s been curved by Michelangelo. “You ran off with another guy!”
It should be illegal to be this hot and be a jackass.
“No, I didn’t!” My hands reach toward the sky as I spin away from Sean. Naked. Gorgeous. Distracting. I pull the Egyptian cotton tighter around my thin frame and hold it like a security blanket.
“Sean.” I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and turn to face him. I attempt to tell him what he should have been told fifteen months ago. “I don’t know how we got here. I—”
“Well, if you don’t remember and I don’t remember then we were both really drunk.”
