Controversy (7 page)

For years he'd hid his playboy ways under the ruse of poker night out with the boys. Actually, it was a stroke of genius to keep his nosy daughters out of his personal life. However, the end result was his six older children having a stranger as a new stepmother and a new sister: Theodore Jamal Adams—Teddy for short.

In a nutshell, their father's marriage was awkward for everyone involved.

“I'll go,” Michael said, deflated.

“All right. Knew we could count on you, Mikey,” Joey bubbled.

“I'll see you in a little while,” Mike said.

“Good. Don't be late.”

Michael's smile disappeared the moment she ended the call. She did not want to do this. After a quick shower, Michael painted on her best face, squeezed into a pair of jeans that she refused to admit were too small and tossed on a low-cut tee that showed off her bodacious tah-tahs.

“Enjoy freedom while you can,” she said to her reflection and left the house. Still, when she climbed into the car and pulled out of the driveway, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

 

From across the street, the tip of a cigarette glowed orange while the driver behind the wheel of a black Ford Explorer watched as Michael Adams pulled out of her driveway and drove off just as the evening made its transition to night.

“Don't lose her,” the woman in the passenger seat said.

“I won't,” the driver responded, starting the car.

M
arlin and Donna's one-year anniversary looked and felt more like a wake. Cloistered together in the back of Nicolino's, the Adams clan made an awkward attempt to smile and be merry. The constant absence of Donna's family members remained a source of curiosity.

Surely the woman had some family tucked away somewhere?

But Michael's keen investigative skills turned up nothing. It was like the woman had just appeared out of thin air. Shortly before her father's marriage, Michael had tried to talk to him about Donna's mysterious past. He'd exploded and made it clear he wanted her to butt out of his private affairs.

Reluctantly, she complied…for now.

The other elephant in the room was the fact that Teddy looked nothing like Marlin or really even her mother. When Teddy was born, no one said anything about the baby's pale coloring.

All babies were pale when they were born.

Well, it was nearly one year later and the Adamses were still waiting for the baby's coloring to fill in and for her eyes to turn from a smoky-gray to brown.

Still, Teddy was an adorable child. Sweet-tempered and playful, the newest Adams also seemed to really take to Michael. In turn, Michael fell hard for Teddy.

“Gift time,” Sheldon exclaimed.

“Gifts?” Michael repeated. “You all brought gifts?” She glanced around and sure enough, her sisters started pulling out beautifully wrapped boxes with shiny bows. How come no one told her they were bringing gifts?

Frankie came to her rescue. “Here.” She slid over a card. “Sign your name and we'll tell them this one is from both of us.”

“Thanks.” Michael jotted her name on the card. Of course people brought gifts to an anniversary party, she scolded herself. What was the matter with her? Was her A-game that severely off?

“Buon compleanno! Buon compleanno!”

Michael turned at the sound of a group of people singing. Toward the restaurant's bar, a group of waiters and waitresses surrounded a table.

“It must be someone's birthday,” Joey commented.

Michael nodded and returned her attention to Teddy, who was busy coloring in the restaurant's coloring book for children.

“Hey, isn't that the cop who was at your place the other day?” Sheldon whispered.

Michael's and Frankie's heads whipped around.

“What cop?” P.J. and Joey asked.

“You know, it does look like him.”

“What cop?” Joey asked again.

“You mean the one that…?” P.J.'s question trailed into nothing.

Michael didn't say anything. She couldn't. The moment her gaze landed on Detective Dekker's smooth, dark-chocolate skin, her body started acting as if it was trying to combat a fever. She felt light-headed, and her heart raced at the mere sight of him.

“What
cop?
” Joey insisted.

“It
is
him,” Sheldon and Frankie agreed simultaneously.

“Um.” Michael pushed her chair back and forced herself to stand. “I'll be right back.”

“Mike, what are you going to do?” Sheldon asked, alarmed.

“Nothing,” she said. “I'm just going over to wish him a happy birthday.”

“Why?” Frankie asked. “Leave well enough alone.”

“I agree,” P.J. emphasized.

“Okay. One of you need to tell me what the heck is going on.” Joey set her fork down and crossed her arms.

“Give it up,” Linc said, leaning over in a conspiratorial whisper. “They just blink and stare at me whenever I ask a question, too.”

“You guys keep secrets from me?” Hurt pinched Joey's expression.

“Trust me,” P.J. said, rubbing her belly. “You don't want to know this one.”

“Guys, I'll be right back,” Michael insisted, and then moved away from the table before anyone could stop her, which was probably the right thing to do under the circumstances.

What
was
she doing? Playing with fire?

As she crossed the restaurant, Michael hand pressed her clothes down, patted her hair, hoping it still looked good, and licked her lips for a natural gloss.

Would he remember her? Did she want him to? Just thinking about the hideous plaid and polka-dot pajama ensemble she'd worn the last time she saw him should've had her running in the opposite direction instead of gravitating toward the man.

The singing waiters and waitresses parted and Detective Fine's dark eyes landed on her during her final approach. If she wasn't mistaken, a faint smile softened the corners of his lips as recognition settled in.

“Ms. Adams,” he greeted, standing.

She smiled. “Ah, so you do remember me?”

“What can I say?” His eyes roamed over her figure. “You leave quite an impression.”

Michael braced her hands on the back of an empty chair. Just being around him had a strange effect on her nervous system.

“Hmmph. Hmmph.”

Michael glanced to her left and for the first time noticed the other handsome man sitting at the table.

“Ms. Adams—”

“Michael,” she corrected him. “You're off the clock, right?”

A wide smile monopolized his broad face. “Right. Michael, I'd like for you to meet my older brother, Khail. Khail, Michael.”

Khail joined his brother standing. “An interesting name for a beautiful woman.”

“A strong name for a strong woman,” Michael countered, teasing. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” she added, noting the strong resemblance between the two men. However, no sparks or electricity coursed between them when he took her hand nor when he lifted it to his mouth for a brief kiss.

“Trust me,” Khail said. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Michael felt the slight caress against her palm and her eyebrows rose high at the man's subtle way of making his interest known. She batted her eyes, but pulled her hand from his grip in silent rejection.

When her eyes drifted back to the man who'd captured her attention, she was stunned to see his open friendliness had cooled considerably. Was he jealous?

The thought tickled and flattered her. Apparently divorce didn't mean she was out of the game for good.

“Anyway,” she said, turning the charm on to full blast, “I just came over to say hi to the birthday boy.”

“Nonsense,” Khail said. “You should join us.”

“Can't,” she said with obvious regret. “My family is celebrating my father's first anniversary.”

“You've been celebrating quite a bit this week,” Kyson said.

“Don't worry. This time, I plan to stay away from the alcohol,” she joked.

“Glad to hear it.”

Despite running out of things to say, Michael remained rooted behind the chair and allowed an awkward silence to drift over the trio for a solid minute. Actually, if Khail hadn't suddenly interrupted into a coughing fit, she was sure that she and Kyson would have been content to just stare and mentally remove each other's clothes.

“Well, I guess I'd better get back to my party,” Michael said, hoping the logic would get her legs to uproot themselves.

“It was great seeing you again…Michael.”

“Enjoy the rest of your birthday,” she said, and then for some unexplainable,
crazy
reason, she moved from behind the safety of her chair to stand by the handsome detective.

A stunned Kyson had just spent the last two minutes trying to keep his eyes from dipping down and staring at the voluptuous goddess's full breasts. Now he couldn't have stopped watching their approach if his badge had depended on it.

Then they were lifting toward him as Michael leaned up on her toes, but there was nothing to compare the sensation he felt when her breasts pressed into his chest a second before her pillow-soft lips landed against his cheek.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured.

When her warm breath drifted across his ear, his hard-on pressed back in response and embarrassed him.

Michael glanced down and then turned her sparkling gaze back up at him. She didn't say anything, but then again, she didn't have to with that wide Cheshire grin she gave before slinking away.

“Well, I'll be damned,” Khail said in the wake of her swinging hips. “Now
that's
what I call a woman!”

Kyson slid back down into his chair, his body still erect and ready.

“How did you meet that brick house and what's with all the covert rubbing up on you? Are you tapping that and keeping secrets?” Khail asked and returned to his seat.

Kyson frowned. “Down, boy. Down.”

“Just answer the question. Are you into her? And if not, can I get the digits?” He twirled around in his seat to see whether he could still see her. “Damn, bro. I think I'm in love.”

“You always think you're in love.”

Khail tossed a smile over his shoulder. “You know me so well.” He turned back around in his seat and leveled a stern look at Kyson. “You, on the other hand, never let a woman ruffle your feathers. And you certainly looked ruffled right now.”

If only you knew.
Kyson reached for his sweet iced tea, and wished like hell it was something a little stronger to take the edge off his erection. Damn. He could still feel the impression of her nipples against his chest and smell the Chanel No. 5.

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Please.” Khail laughed as he resumed eating his meal. “There were enough pheromones between you guys to set off an orgy up in this place. Now answer the question—are you feeling homegirl or not?”

Backed into a corner, Kyson cast a glance toward the back of the restaurant just as Michael looked up. In an instant, their eyes locked.

“Oh, yeah.” Khail laughed again. “You're definitely feeling homegirl.”

 

Michael stayed three hours instead of the one she'd promised herself. The main reason may have had something to do with the fact she didn't want to stop gazing at Detective Dekker. But what she saw, she certainly didn't like. Minutes after returning to her seat, two women joined the Dekker brothers at their table.

Actually, calling them women was being kind. They were more like anorexic hoochies with twin bowling balls for breasts. How they were able to walk without tipping over was a modern-day miracle.

The one draping herself across Kyson and rubbing said bowling balls against him every chance she could get had enough horse hair in her head to qualify her for the Kentucky Derby.

“
That's
the kind of woman he likes?” Michael mumbled, wrinkling her nose as if a skunk had streaked across the table.

“What?” Sheldon asked, pulling her attention away from whatever nonsensical story their stepmother was going on about. “The kind of woman
who
likes?”

Michael nodded in Kyson's direction. “Why do men always fall for the slutty bimbos?”

“Is that a
real
question?” Frankie asked, laughing.

The sisters chuckled in response.

“What is so funny down there?” Marlin, their father, asked, wanting the girls to let him and Donna in on the joke.

“Nothing, Daddy,” Michael said. “We were just trying to figure out what makes men fall for the young-bimbo type.”

A hush fell over the crowd and Michael realized what her words implied, especially since her father's complexion darkened to a deep plum and Donna dropped her fork.

“Oh, I didn't mean you and Donna,” she quickly apologized. “I just meant in general.”

That didn't make it any better.

“I meant men who went for women half their age with fake…”

Sheldon and Joey lunged and clamped a hand over Michael's mouth.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Frankie said, pushing back from her chair and directing the other sister to drag Michael along for an emergency ladies'-room huddle.

Michael had no choice but to allow her four sisters to extract her from the table and shove her across the restaurant.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” P.J. barked the moment they crossed the bathroom's threshold. “Is this what you call putting forth an effort?”

“I'm sorry.” Michael flushed. “I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Really.”

Four angry faces glared.

“You know what?” she said, tossing her hands up. “I should go home. It was a bad idea for me to come out tonight.” She snatched her purse from Sheldon's hands. It was better for her to kick herself out of the party than to actually let one of them do it, which was just about to happen judging by their faces. “Tell Dad I'm sorry.”