The Transient Wife

Chapter 11

Philip paced outside the balcony of their hotel room in great disbelief. He was in a strange country with the strangest drunkard woman he had ever met.

Letting the night's cool wind calm his senses, Philip organized his thoughts. He reminded himself of why he was here.

He was here to save his ass and his family. He was here because he had to. He was here because that was what Kurt Anders bargained for.

He turned and walked back inside the room. He watched his sleeping wife.

She was a mess. Not because of this marriage, but because of something else before all of this even started.

Shaking his head, Philip reminded himself why he was here again.

Not because of her, he thought as he walked to his side of the bed and settled down.

*****

If you had ever been so drunk and passed out, then you'd understand what a great burden a hangover is. That's what it was for Cassandra the moment she opened her eyes. Her head was aching so badly and the rays of sun hitting her eyes only made it worse.

"God, I'm never drinking again..." she moaned, trying to get up but failing miserably. Well, that was another thing with hangovers: they always make you say something like that.

Her body was aching and her mind, aside from the headache, was in a blur. She couldn't remember what happened next after the...what did she really remember? Oh, yes, the phone call from Philip...then Benny with that sexy accent...then Philip again...then...she couldn't go any further because her brain was seriously in pain right now. She blindly reached out her hand sideways and froze when she felt a man's chest.

Bare chest with smooth, tiny hairs. She rolled her eyes to her right and stifled a shout when she saw Philip's sleeping form beside her. Carefully, she lifted her pinky finger from his chest, then the ring finger, then the middle finger...forefinger...thumb...and ever so gently, she lifted her palm from his muscled chest which was heaving with easy, smooth breathing pattern. His left arm was sprawled over his head and his right one was at his side.

Cassandra was almost afraid to peek inside the comforter that covered him from navel down. If he was naked up, he could be very well be...okay, stop right there.

Fully awake now with a throbbing head, Cassandra slipped out of the bed as slowly as she could and the moment her feet touched the floor, she noticed her clothing. She gasped and covered her mouth. She was not wearing her black-and-white shirt and her denim shorts anymore. Instead, she had on one of the black nightgowns her mother packed for her! It was too silky and too revealing and...

"Oh my God," she whispered, throwing her head back at Philip. That did it. She grabbed a pillow and slapped it down his head. "What did you do to me!" she shouted.

He shot out of bed in a matter of seconds and Cassandra gasped for the second time when she saw what he was wearing. Of course she had seen men in boxers and even without, but God, her husband was too hot and too angry to look at right now, so she hastily turned around to face the glass door that led to the balcony.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Philip exclaimed harshly. She didn't need to turn around to know he was practically scowling across the bed at her.

"I should ask you that question! Where are my clothes?"

"What? What clothes?"

"The clothes I was wearing last night!"

"You mean the ones you showered with your gastric contents?"

"What gastric contents are you talking—" she stopped, the events from last night finally falling into pieces. She dropped her head and moaned, "Oh, good God. I threw up."