When You Were Mine (Adams Sisters) (13 page)

              “Larry?”  Sheldon glanced at everyone.  “Who in the hell is calling him Larry?”

              “Shhh!”

              “I’m coming,” Laurence’s muffled voice called back, but then it turned crystal clear when he spoke back into the mouthpiece.  “Look, Joey.  I better go.”  There was a long pause before he added, “Bye.”

              Peyton hit the stop button.  “Did he say something about Milan?”

              “As in Italy?” Sheldon asked.

              “She couldn’t have gone to Italy.  She doesn’t have that kind of money,” Michael reasoned.

              Frankie eyes bulged.

              “Yeah, you’re right,” Peyton nodded.  “She wouldn’t have.”

              “She couldn’t have,” Sheldon agreed.

              Frankie dropped her head into the palms of her hands and croaked.  “She did.”

#

              “So let me get this straight,” Ryan adjusted his weight in his chair.  “You’ve been here for three days and you haven’t talk to him yet?”

              Joey bit into her second slice of cheesecake and moaned as if her soul had a G-spot.

              Ryan made another adjustment in his chair.  Despite looking as if she’d slept the last three days in a gutter, she still was able to get the blood pumping in all areas of his body.

              And that was a good thing.

              “I haven’t spoken to him yet--but I will.”

              “Let me guess.  You have a plan.”  Ryan chuckled while his eyes danced around her beautiful face.

              “Actually, I’m still working on one.”

              He wrinkled his nose.  “Does it include a shower?”

              Her next bite of dessert stopped inches from her mouth.  “What are you saying?”

              “I’m saying,
sweetheart
, that you stink.”  He plopped his cigar back into his mouth, and then added, “Badly.”

              Joey swallowed a hard lump of air and dropped her fork.  When silver hit glass, it caused a loud clatter and drew a few more eyeballs in Ryan and Joey’s direction.  “I better go.”  She pushed back her chair and cringed when it screeched across the floor.

              More eyes followed.

              She jumped up from her seat with her entire body ablaze with embarrassment.

              “Wait.” Ryan snuffed out his cigar, and chucked his white linen napkin onto the table.  “You don’t have to go.”  His words hit her racing back.  “Damn it.” 

              Scooping out his money clip, he tossed more than enough money to cover his tab and bolted after Joey.

              Icy winds sliced through his clothes and he fleetingly thought to return to the restaurant for his coat and gloves, but then caught sight of Joey racing down the street.

              “Where in the hell is she going?” he mumbled, taking off after her.  His long athletic legs erased the distance between them in no time.  When he caught up, he only smiled at her long string of curses.

              “Damn, damn, damn.  It’s cold,” she huffed, and then clutched at her sides.

              “You know, it’s not a good idea to run on a full stomach.  At least that’s what my mother used to tell me.” Ryan slowed his stride to keep pace with her.

              She rolled her eyes, but then stopped in her tracks and doubled over.

              Shaking his head, Ryan backtracked and stopped next to her.  “Cramp?”

              Out of pride, she shook her head.  In the next second, her muscles clenched tighter and she was forced to nod the truth.

              Another chuckle tumbled from Ryan’s lips.

              “I’m so glad I amuse you,” she hissed.

              He thought about placating her.  “Well, you have to admit you’re a little bit high-strung.”

              “What?” She attempted to erect her frame; however, her sore muscles had other plans and she remained doubled over.  “One plane flight conversation doesn’t mean that you know everything about me.”  Her teeth chattered as a strong gust of wind nearly caused her to kiss the ground.

              “Correction--one bathroom rescue, one
long
plane flight and one dinner date.”

              Finally her side muscles relaxed and she lifted out of her right-angle position.  “Tonight was not a date.”

              “Did you pay for dinner?”

              “I
told
you I didn’t have any money!”

              “Then it was a date.”

              “You said no strings attached,” she accused.

              “I haven’t attached any.”  He shrugged, still unable to remove the smile from his lips.  “It was a nice meal with good conversation--the end.”

              She looked as though she was chewing nails before she spat out, “You insulted me.”

              “I, as a friend, told you the truth.  Your BO lit up the joint.”

              “I...well...see.”  Joey’s face crumbled.  “Oh my God.”  Tears leaked from her eyes.  “I
do
stink.”  She buried her face into the palms of her hands and wept.

              Feeling awkward and inadequate, Ryan brought her trembling shoulders into his embrace--in part for some body heat and in part because he liked touching her.

              “Sooo,” he said, stroking her back and feeling his erection harden against his thigh.  “Why don’t you come back to my hotel suite?”

              She stopped crying and pulled back.

              Ryan surrendered his hands into the air.  “Just so you can take a shower.”

              Her eyes narrowed, but her eyes hummed at the idea of being able to stand beneath a hot jet of streaming hot water.  “Just for a shower?” she asked for clarification.

              “Just for a shower,” he agreed, smiling.

              If it looks like a snake and hiss like a snake, chances were she was dealing with a snake¾and a shower.

              “What hotel are you staying in?”

              “Hotel Principe Di Savoia Milano.”

              A warm, genuine smile eased across Joey’s dirt-smudged face.  “Mr. Donovan, I would love to go your hotel suite.”

Chapter 15

              Ryan was minutes away from getting laid.  He was certain of it the moment he ushered Joey into the elegant, fifty-four-hundred-square-foot presidential suite, and he slid on his Casanova act.

              “Wow.  This place is
really
nice,” Joey gushed as her gaze danced from the grand piano to the lacunar ceiling and the large terrace with a panoramic view of Milan.  “You even have a fireplace.”

              “Perfect for wintry nights.”  He inched closer.

              She rolled her eyes at his lame theatrics, instantly signaling him to step up his game.

              “Would you like a private tour?”

              Joey shook her head.  “Maybe after the shower.”

              “Suit yourself.”  He shrugged and led her across the marble floor to the enormously grand bathroom.  “I’m sure you’ll find everything you need in here.  There are a few robes on the rack.  “Help yourself.”

              She smiled and stepped into the bathroom and stopped.  “Thank you.”  Joey turned and faced him.  “For everything.”

              Ryan blinked.  For a moment, he felt guilty about his hidden agenda for a vulnerable woman.  What kind of man would prey on a woman stuck in a foreign country with no money, no clothes and no place to stay?

              He would--especially to end his current little...problem.

              “It’s no big deal,” he said slyly.

              She flashed him another smile and closed the door.

              He laid his head against the partition and expelled a long breath.  At the sound of the shower, he turned with a wide smile. 

              Just a few more minutes, he promised himself.

              He pulled off his coat and unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt while he made a beeline toward the fireplace.  In no time at all, a fire crackled to life and room service arrived on cue.

              “Here’s a little something extra for you.” Ryan winked and slipped the man his tip.

              The young man’s eyes lit up.  “
Grazie, signore.  Grazie
.”

              Ryan smiled and guided the server out the door.  He retrieved a blanket from one of the bedrooms and laid it before the fire.  From his laptop, he retrieved the only CD he had,
Luther Vandross Greatest Hits,
and popped into the stereo system.

              Now the stage was set for seduction.

              Joey stood on weak knees beneath the best showerhead in the world.  Water pounded and massaged her skin to the point she didn’t care to ever leave.  She lathered and rinsed, lathered and rinsed until the small square hotel soap disappeared and her fingertips pickled.

              Reluctantly, she shut off the shower.  When she stepped out and reached for a towel, her ears perked at Luther’s unmistakable voice.

              She frowned.  There’s only one reason a man puts Luther Vandross on the stereo.  “No strings attached, my ass.”

              Joey snatched one of the hotel robes from the rack.  The large fluffy material swallowed her small frame, and the belt circled her waist twice.  Steam billowed out the bathroom as she eased out the door.

              “Well, if it isn’t the cleanest woman in all of Italy,” Ryan said from behind the piano bench.  He lifted a champagne glass.  “Drink?”

              Joey had never seen a more obvious wolf in sheep’s clothing.  Her gaze skittered from him to the lit fireplace, the low lighting, and his identical terry-cloth robe.  “It’s not going to happen,” she warned.

              “What?”

              His eyes grew a little too wide to pull off the innocent look, but she was charmed just the same.  “I’m not sleeping with you.”

              His Cheshire smile grew wider as he popped his cigar in his mouth.  “If you say so.” 

              “Has anyone ever told you that’s a nasty habit you have there?”

              “What?” He removed the cigar and glanced at it.  “This?”

              Joey folded her arms as she crossed the room.  “Smoking causes lung cancer.”

              “What are you my mother?”  He winked.  “Do you want to spank me?”  He placed the cigar in a glass ashtray.

              She shook her head, still charmed.  “Does this act really work on women?”

              “You tell me.”  Ryan stood and approached with a flute of champagne extended out to her.  His walk was too confident, his smile too wide--but he couldn’t seem to tone down his performance.  He was anxious to score a homerun despite his inability to step into the batter’s box with this woman.

              Joey accepted the glass with a smile and then turned toward the fireplace.  “Sooo.  How’s preproduction going?” she asked idly.

              He kept his silly smile in place while he followed her.  “It’s coming along.”

              “A blanket, huh?”

              Ryan shrugged.  “No harm in getting comfortable.”

              She shook her head.  “Your nose is growing, Pinocchio.”

              “You’re not exactly Honest Abe, Ms. Adams.”  He clinked their flutes of champagne together while his heavy gaze caressed her face.  “You keep saying no but...”

              Her eyebrows seesaw with curiosity.  “But what?”

              “But you are standing in the middle of my hotel suite, freshly showered, in my robe and sipping champagne before a roaring fire.  There is a word men call women like you.”

              She lifted her head and clenched her jaw.  “And what is that?”

              “A tease.”

              “That’s two words.”

              “So it is.”  Ryan chuckled.  “But you
are
a tease.”

              Joey opened her mouth to argue; but at the last moment, she flashed him a stunning smile and sipped her drink.

              “Does that mean I have permission to stamp guilty on your forehead?”

              “I plead the fifth.”  She winked, enjoying how easily she wrapped him around her finger.  How come Laurence never fawned over her this way? 
Because he has an infinity for silicon breasts instead of the real McCoy.

“Why don’t we sit down?”

She hesitated.

“I won’t bite.”

Joey lowered onto the blanket, but slowly her smile ebbed away as she thought about the past week--really thought about it.  “What am I doing?”  She sighed.  “What am I doing here?”

“We’re getting acquainted.”  He clinked their glasses again and resumed pouring on the charm. 

“No.  I mean what am I doing here in Italy, chasing after a man who dumped me?”  She set her glass down on the fireplace mantle and cupped her face into her hands.  “When did I become so desperate?”

“Now, now.”  Ryan strategically placed an arm around her shoulder to showcase the appropriate amount of sympathy.  “Don’t be hard on yourself.  Your ex-fiancé sort of led you on.”

“Ex-almost-fiancé,” she corrected.

“Right, right.  That’s what I meant.”  He set his glass down next to hers in order to massage her shoulders.  “But you know it’s never too late to put the whole thing behind you¾to move on.”

Joey closed her eyes and emitted a soft moan.  “You have nice hands.”

He leaned close to whisper in her ear.  “I’m glad you like them.”  He allowed a moment of silence to pass before he added, “I have other nice things, you know.”

She chuckled and emerged from her pool of self-pity.  “I’m not interested in your other ‘nice things’.”  She turned around to face him, but was momentarily taken aback when her eyes met his beautiful unblinking stare.

“You feel it, too.  Don’t you?” he asked, gently sliding the back of his fingers down her supple cheek.

She should respond--say something else sarcastic--but the truth was, she did feel...something.

“I love Larry.”  Joey blinked.  “I mean
Laurence.”
  She straightened her spine and pulled away from his touch.