When You Were Mine (Adams Sisters)

by Byrd, Adrianne

  “What does it feel like?” He planted kisses down the column of her neck.

  “It feels like you’re doing exactly what I told you not to do.”

  “C’mon. Don’t you miss me?” He slid his hands beneath her hideous flannel pajama top. “Don’t you miss this?”

  Peyton chuckled softly. “That’s not the point.” She rolled around to face him, but before she could chastise him, he kissed her.

  “Tell me I can stay,” he commanded lovingly. “Tell me you want me to make love to you.”

  She moaned as his large hand cupped her firm breast.

  “I’ll take that...as a yes.” He chuckled and then returned to business.

  Flex vowed to go on a diet.

  He’d always been a big guy, a muscular guy, but there’d was a time when he could climb the oak tree in his childhood backyard in twenty seconds flat. Tonight, however, he suffered through three near wipeouts, a potential hernia and a possible slipped disc...and he was only halfway up the damn tree.

  If any of his firefighter buddies saw him now, he would never hear the end of it. Had an extra twenty pounds reduced him to this?

  Flex swung out his hand for another branch, and then his foot slipped off the limb below him before he made contact.

  Good ol’ reliable gravity paid a visit and slammed him against the earth. He opened his mouth to scream...but his body forgot what to do with oxygen¾completely understandable since pain seized every muscle, nerve and sensory gland.

  He blinked and two fat teardrops pooled and slid from the corners of his eyes just as his lungs kicked back into gear and sucked in their first drag of oxygen.

  “Ouch,” he whimpered.

  For a while, he remained content to lie flat on his back, staring up into the night’s sky. Really, what harm would it be to spend the night outside?

  Thunder rumbled and a few drops of rain splattered against Flex’s face.

  “Lord, you have to be kidding me.”

  Thunder rolled and lightning temporarily lit up the sky.

  “Okay, okay. I’m going. I’m going.” Locating a source of reserved energy, Flex sat up and ignored the pain in his lower back.

  Maybe I should check all the windows again.

  He liked that idea. What business did a grown man have climbing trees anyway?

  Flex limped around the house again as rain fell in light, thin sheets. But by the time he turned away from the last locked window, he was in the midst of a torrent.

  Just go ring the damn bell.

  Tempted, he turned to go do just that but then stopped. I’m not a quitter.

  Flex drew a breath, squared his shoulder and returned to the oak tree. Determination, more than skill or grace, propelled his six-foot-four frame skyward.

  A second before he reached for the window, a horrible thought occurred to him. What if this window is locked, too?

  He grumbled under his breath at that possibility, yet a wave of relief washed over him when the window opened.

  Yeess!

  There was more straining and grunting involved in actually getting through the window. Once inside, triumph roared through his veins...but then pain brought him back down to earth again.

  Flex glanced longingly at the comfort his old bed offered. Lord, how much he wanted to dive in and sleep for a full week, however, he still had to sneak downstairs and lug up his suitcases.

  Frustrated, annoyed, and flat out grumpy, Flex crept out of his bedroom door and tried his best to tiptoe through the house’s still darkness.

  Peyton jerked away from her husband’s passionate kiss. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” Lincoln asked dumbfounded, and then dismissed the question and tried to recapture his wife’s lips.

  She turned her face away. “Didn’t you hear something?”

  “Just music, bells and all that romantic crap. Now, where were we?” He hiked her left leg higher on his hip.

  “What if it’s Daddy?”

  “I thought I was your daddy right now,” Lincoln chuckled.

  She smacked his hard chest. “I’m being serious.”

  Exasperated, Lincoln sighed. “Do you want me to go check it out?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Actually--”

  Peyton rewarded him with another smack. “I told you this was a bad idea. Go back and sleep in the other room.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. I was just kidding. Of course I’ll go check it out. If it’s all clear, we’ll pick up where we left off. Agreed?”

  “Just go check it out,” she hissed and pushed at him to hurry.

  Flex retrieved his suitcases and closed the front door. Gone was the excitement of surprising his family. Judging by the pain in his back, he needed to be more concerned with whether he needed a trip to the hospital’s emergency room.

  He stopped at the base of the stairs and set his luggage down. A couple of Tylenol should do the trick, he concluded, thinking about the economy-sized bottle his father usually kept in the kitchen.

  Feeling around the dark living room, Flex bumped into furniture his sisters had the habit of rearranging whenever their moods struck them. He’d almost made it through the challenging labyrinth when his arm bumped something and he jerked around to catch it. Instead, he kicked another mysterious object, which tipped over and landed solidly on his big toe.

  “Goddamn it!”

  Lincoln froze on the center of the staircase with his ears perked. Someone is in here.

  Adrenaline pumped hard and steady through his veins as his brain quickly tried to apply reason. In fact, it was probably just his father-in-law on the prowl for a late-night snack.

  Not probably--most likely.

  “Marlin?” Lincoln descended cautiously down the stairs. However, the last stair was booby-trapped with bags of some kind, and Lincoln quickly found himself flat on his back and with stars dancing before his eyes.

  “Who’s there?”

  Lincoln frowned at the familiar voice and winced through the pain as he struggled to sit up. “Francis?”

  Chapter 6

  Again cocooned in The Blue Diamond, Ryan proceeded back to VIP. The loud music barely penetrated his troubled thoughts, while his body mourned the loss of a woman he didn’t know and most likely would never see again.

  “Ryan, my man. Where have you been?” Freddie pounded his heavy hand against Ryan’s back. “I’ve been looking all over the place for you. Zach is waiting, man.”

  “Damn,” Ryan muttered under his breath. “I’d forgotten about Zach. Where is he?”

  “Sitting in VIP.” Freddie hooked his arm around Ryan’s neck. “Don’t worry. I draped a few girls on his arms and kept him liquored up.” Freddie winked. “I doubt he noticed you were MIA.”

  “Thanks, Freddie. I owe you one.”

  “Really? ’Cuz I got this cousin who’s been trying to break into the business...”

  His attention shifted from his friend’s rambling and focused on the man he spotted out of the corner of his eyes.

  Larry.

  The man was still entangled with Carlina Leoni, aka his career iceberg, and appeared to be undaunted by what had transpired between him and Joey.

  “Excuse me, Freddie.” Ryan maneuvered through the crowd with his eyes locked onto his target.

  “Hey, Ryan. Where you going?” Freddie called out.

  Ryan stopped behind Larry and tapped him on the shoulder. When the tall stranger turned, Ryan’s gaze and then his fist zoomed across the man’s perfect square chin.

  Larry crashed against the floor and then looked up stunned. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “That’s for Joey.” Ryan shook his hand to relieve the pain.

  Carlina gasped, although belatedly, and then dropped down beside her fiancé. “Baby, are you all right?”

  Ryan turned and ignored the wide eyes of spectators.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Freddie slid to a stop next to Ryan. “What’s going on here?”

  �
��That jerk just punched me,” Larry barked, glaring up at the men. “I want him thrown out of here.”

  Ryan’s eyes flew to Freddie. For the first time, he took in the men’s resemblance. “Is this your brother?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Larry struggled back to his feet and made a great show of dusting himself off. “If you’re not going to handle this, then maybe Mr. Big-Time Director would like to take this outside and finish what he started.”

  Remarkably, Carlina just smiled.

  Ryan stepped forward, welcoming the challenge.

  “Oh, pipe down.” Freddie grasped Ryan by the elbow. “I’ll handle this.” He tugged at his friend.

  Ryan refused to budge.

  “Let it go,” Freddie said coolly, and this time managed to lead Ryan away.

  “You throwing me out?” Ryan inquired.

  “Hell, no.” Freddie chuckled. “I’m buying you a drink.”

  Flex clicked on a light and frowned down at his brother-in-law. “Linc, what in the hell are you doing here?”

  Grunting, Lincoln sat up. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He held up a hand. “Can I get a little help here?”

  Despite his pain, Flex grabbed hold of Lincoln’s hand and assisted.

  “I came down here because Peyton thought she heard something and insisted I check it out. Since it’s just you, I’m going back to bed.” He reached over and patted Flex on the back. “Good night.”

  Flex restrained Lincoln by the shoulder. “Don’t tell P.J. I’m here. I want to surprise everyone in the morning.”

  “Not clogging around here like some giant oaf you’re not.” Lincoln chuckled. “You’re about as quiet as a space shuttle launch.”

  “Very funny.” Flex snatched up his bags. You and P.J. aren’t exactly quiet church mice.” He rolled his eyes and hitched his voice to mimic Peyton’s lusty moans. “Oh, big daddy. Oh, big daddy.”

  Lincoln chuckled.

  A soft gasp drew the men’s attention. Both looked up to the top of the staircase to see a stunned, and clearly embarrassed, Peyton wrapped in her robe. Without saying a word, she turned on her heels and marched down the hall.

  “Nice going,” Lincoln mumbled under his breath, and then raced up the stairs. “Baby?”

  So much for my surprise. Flex’s shoulders slumped before he proceeded up the stairs.

  “C’mon, baby. Open the door,” Lincoln begged.

  “Good luck,” Flex whispered as he passed by in the hall, but he was unable to prevent the smile on his face from reflecting in his voice.

  Lincoln ignored him. “I’m sorry, honey. I know it wasn’t funny.”

  Flex reentered his old bedroom and placed his luggage at the foot of the bed. Once he withdrew a pair of pajamas pants, he made a beeline to his adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower.

  The hot, soothing spray of the water immediately performed wonders in erasing the aches and pains from his sore limbs. As he lathered up, his mind drifted to how happy he was to be home--crazy sisters and all.

  He sobered for a moment and wondered if his fall knocked a screw loose. Undoubtedly the next ten days would be filled with inquiries about his love life--detailed inquiries. However, he had nothing to report.

  Nada. Zilch. Nothing.

  Flex sighed and dipped his head low beneath the spray. If his sisters thought it was hard for them to meet a good man, they should check out how difficult it was for a man to meet a good man.

  Shaking his head, he shut off the water. If he told his sisters he wasn’t dating anyone, he would give them less than thirty seconds to start suggesting friends or a friend of a friend as possible partner material.

  Well, I could lie and say I was dating someone...

  Nah, he’d already been down that road—and ended up with a new brother-in-law.

  Shoving his thoughts to the back of his mind, Flex stepped out of the shower, toweled off and slid on his pajamas. When he finally returned to his bedroom, he was stunned to see Lincoln climbing in beneath the sheets.

  “Did I miss something?”

  Lincoln punched his pillow and dropped his head back. “You have the couch.”

  “Excuse me?” Flex tossed his towel to land on his suitcase. “This is my room.”

  “Correction. It was your room. Tonight it’s my room--especially since you got me evicted out of Peyton’s bed.”

  “Don’t you two have a house somewhere?”

  “Renovations.” Lincoln reached over and tossed a pillow to Lincoln. “The couch.”

  “I don’t think so.” Flex tossed the pillow back and smacked his brother-in-law in the face. “I didn’t just endure airport hell and nearly kill myself climbing that damn tree in the backyard just so I can sleep on the couch.” He stormed toward the bed and peeled back the sheets on the vacant side.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to bed. You’re more than welcome to sleep on that side, but I’ll be damn if I’m sleeping downstairs.” He clapped his hands and the lights went out.

  Lincoln clapped the lights back on. “We can’t share a bed.”

  “I’m not moving.” Flex yawned, clapped and closed his eyes. “And make sure you stay on that side of the bed…Big Daddy.”

  Joey wanted a drink, a gun and a priest--in that order; instead, she settled for a carton of cookie dough ice cream and a pair of scissors. The moment the first scoop entered her mouth, euphoria coursed through every inch of her body. By the time the cool dessert glided down her throat, the feeling vanished and she shoveled more and more into her mouth, trying to get it back.

  During short breaks, she proceeded cutting up every picture she could find of Laurence. For a time, she took immense pleasure slicing his face in half, into quarters, and then smaller and smaller. After awhile even that simple satisfaction waned.

  She returned to her ice cream as more tears arrived. Before long she was a sobbing, gooey mess. It didn’t help that her mind conspired against her. Every time she shoved one image of Laurence out of her mind, a thousand more crammed inside.

  How on earth did I mess this up?

  She sat still in the center of her bed, dressed in her SpongeBob SquarePants pajamas, and waited for an answer. Instead all that came was an image of that creep director shoving his tongue down her throat. She should have bitten it off.

  “It’s not fair,” she mumbled against her spoon. “Why can’t I find true love?” She sniffed and mopped her face with the back of her hand. “Even Peyton has been married twice.”

  There has to be something wrong...with me.

  Joey nodded at her conclusion and forced herself to climb out of bed. Shuffling across the cold wooden floor, she stopped in front of the full-length mirror and dragged her gaze over her reflection.

  Her depression sank lower.

  Sure she had curves, but certainly not like the Coca Cola bottle curves Laurence’s new fiancé sported. Sitting her half carton of ice cream down on the floor, Joey stood tall and lifted her B-cup breasts and frowned. If more than a hand full was a waste, why did men flock to the D’s and Double D’s of the world?

  Joey cocked her head from side to side.

  “I could always get implants,” she whispered and turned to the side to see if she could imagine herself stuffed to the max with silicone.

  Next her gaze traveled to her thin lips. She had always hated they weren’t as full as Peyton’s or Frankie’s, but now her sugar high had her considering injecting collagen into them.

  Joey squinted at her face. Were those bags under her eyes? When had she developed those?

  She frowned and then noticed how the act caused her forehead to crease with lines. Botox could fix those. Her critical eyes then roamed over her thick mane. Before this moment, it had been one of her favorite features. Now she found fault with the heavy, straight mass.

  Laurence, once again, popped into her head. Had he noticed all her flaws?

  Joey rolled her eyes. Of course, he noticed.
He was a cosmetic surgeon for Pete’s sakes. He made his living perfecting women...and Carlina looked as though she had just rolled off the showroom floor.

  Suddenly, it all made sense.

  Laurence couldn’t marry anyone who wasn’t perfect¾and she was far from it. She sniffed while her self-esteem plummeted. However, as time ticked by and the ice cream depleted, Joey’s depression morphed into anger. From there, revenge seeped into her mind.

  She smiled wickedly. When it came to revenge, there was only one sister to call. Joey shuffled over to the nightstand and picked up the phone. “Hello, Michael?”

  Chapter 7

  Ryan had a sinking feeling he was going to Italy.

  “Lake Como and Milan, Italy,” Zach said. “Paradise.”

  Ryan refused to be pacified and grunted into his drink. Moviemaking was his life. Movie politics were his worst nightmare.

  Zach laughed, gliding his hand through his premature graying locks as his Irish green eyes flashed. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t look like that. Have you ever been there? The sun, the land--the women.” He jiggled his eyebrows. “Le molto belle donne.”

  Ryan’s brows squeezed together. “Is there a language you don’t know?”

  “Never cared for Portuguese.”

  Their waitress appeared, showing more skin than clothes. “Can I get you fellows anything else to drink? Boss says everything is on the house.” Her gaze locked with Ryan’s as she smiled. “We all heard how you decked his up-tight brother.” She inched closer to him. “Is there any way I can thank you as well?”

  Ryan didn’t mistake her offer and smiled. However, his body responded as if he’d been splashed with freezing-cold water. “No. I’m good.”

  “Then I’ll check with you later.” She winked and sauntered off.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Zach questioned. “Did you not check out the ass on that girl? It brought a damn tear to my eye.”

  “Don’t let Maggie hear you talking like that,” Ryan warned.

  “Come now.” Zach placed a hand over his heart. “I’m a happily married man. There’s a difference in looking and doing, if you know what I mean.”