When You Were Mine (Adams Sisters) (22 page)

              “What are you, gay?”  She grew taller as her indignity heightened.  “Men would kill to be with me!”

              “That’s it.” Ryan latched on to the excuse, anything to get the woman off of him.  “I’m gay.”

              “Please.” Carlina’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.  “You’re not gay.  I know gay when I see gay.”

             
Damn.  What does it take to get rid of this woman?

              “It’s that damn Jo-Jo or Joey.  Whatever the hell her damn name is,” Carlina snarled.  Her rage distorted her beauty.  “What is it about that bitch that has you and Larry salivating at her feet?”

              “This conversation is over.”  Ryan turned away from her.  “And if you want to stay aboard this production set, you’ll keep your mouth shut about me and Joey.”

              “Ryan, wait.”  She leaped forward and caught him by the arm.

              He stopped, not because of her hand’s tight restraint but because of the note of panic in her voice.  Slowly he faced her again.

              “I can’t lose both of you.”  Tears shimmered in the actress’s eyes.

              “I’m sorry.” Ryan shrugged.  “But you never had me.”

#

              Joey left Ryan’s suite wearing her old jeans, stained T-shirt and leather jacket.  It wasn’t difficult for her to walk away from the designer clothes and expensive jewelry, but it was hard to leave the fantasy.  The fictitious engagement, the unborn tribe of children and a Hollywood happily-ever-after all disappeared with the click of the door.

              Good ol’ reliable Peyton not only purchased her e-ticket, but she’d also wired money directly to the hotel’s concierge.  The money was much needed to pay for her taxi.  Silent tears streaked down her face during the ride to the airport, but she refused to look back.

              Joey had found, lived and lost love in a little over ten days.  At least, she thought it was love or was love what she had with Laurence?  And what was the point of being the only one in love?

              Ryan certainly never alluded to feeling the same way about her.  Sure, he thought her beautiful or “perfect” and there was no denying he had a strong physical attraction to her.  But love?

              Joey thrust up her chin and decided she was doing the right thing.  The only way to sort everything out was to step away from the situation.  If after a period time she felt the same way about Ryan, then...she would look him up.

              She dried her face and refused to let another teardrop fall. It was time to rely on old-fashioned courage.  Yet, as she said that to herself, a hope coursed through the crevice of her heart, that Ryan would stop her from boarding her plane.  Isn’t that what always happened at the end of her sappy romance novels?

              Ryan would find the letter she left and then race to the airport to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life.  It will be because he loved her--hopelessly so.  Joey shook her head and laughed at herself, and then all too soon Milan Malpensa Airport came into view.

              “If it was meant to be, he’ll come.”

#

              “Lucy, I’m home.” Ryan crept through the door with a wide smile and a bundle of roses and was a little stunned to find the suite as dark as a tomb.  “Joey?” He reached for the main switch and clicked on the lights.

              He called her name again and closed the door behind him.  The place remained deathly silent as he removed his coat and then moved farther into the room.  He glanced at his watch and thought surely Joey hadn’t retired for the night at nine o’clock.

              “Sorry I missed dinner,” he called out, hoping to appease her if in fact she was somewhere in the suite sulking.  “Taping ran a little late mainly because I’m working with an actress who thinks its cute not to memorize her lines,” he chuckled at his own joke.

              He moved from the formal dining room to the corner living room but there was still no Joey.  His frowned deepened as he waltzed from room to room.  Did she go out to dinner without him?

              Ryan turned to walk out of the main bedroom Joey used when his eyes landed on one of the pillows.  He strolled across the room.  When he recognized the ring nestled in the center of pillow, his chest tightened.  Once he arrived at the bed, he struggled with himself to pick up the heavy gem and the sealed enveloped with his name written in Joey’s loopy penmanship.

              If nothing, Ryan was a realist, and everything about this small scene screamed
bad news!

              He drew a deep breath and contemplated whether to make himself a drink first.  After a moment, he rationalized it was best to get the whole thing over with.

Dear Ryan,

I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me in the short time we’ve known each other.  The last few days especially have been wonderful and I dare say you’ve come very close to winning your bet.  Maybe I’m a sore loser for leaving now, but I need to save myself from myself.  I don’t know.  I’m starting to believe there is something wrong with being in love with love.  For one thing, you begin to see it in everyone and everything until it’s all consuming.  Pretending with you was nice and easy, but in the end it will only hurt.  I wish you luck on your new film and I hope you’ll think of me from time to time...especially whenever you’re in a men’s room.

Best of love,

Joseph H. Adams.

              “Joseph?”  Ryan stalled at the name.  All along, he’d assumed her Joey was short for Joanne or Josephine, but Joseph?  Just as quickly, his mind whizzed back to the screenwriter who had written his dream project.  “It couldn’t be.”

              A buzz at the door drew Ryan from his private thoughts.  He tossed the roses onto the bed, pocketed the diamond ring and letter and rushed to answer the door.  Though he knew Joey had a key to the suite, it didn’t stop him from hoping it was her at the door.  Her with woeful eyes, admitting that she’d made a mistake in leaving.

              Instead it was Zach.

              Ryan’s face collapsed in disappointment.             

“Who loves ya, baby?” Zach grinned from ear to ear and then rushed on into the apartment without an invitation.

“Zach, this isn’t a good time.”

“I’m not going to take much of you and your little lady’s time.”  He glanced around, but made no further comment to Joey’s absence.  “Guess what.”

“Skip to the chase and just tell me.” Ryan grabbed his coat.  “I have to get to the airport.”

“I got your financing,” Zach declared triumphantly, and then belatedly caught what his friend had said.  “Why are you going to the airport?”

Ryan raced out of the suite.  “I’ll have to tell you on the way.”

Minutes later, Ryan and Zach climbed into the limo.

“To the airport,” Ryan ordered.

The driver glanced back at him through the rear view mirror.  “Which one?”

Ryan blinked and then made an educated guess that
Joseph
would fly out the same airport they’d arrived in last week.  “Linate International.”

#

Joey stalled at her gate until the last possible second.  She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t really waiting for Ryan to appear out of nowhere and plead for her not to board the plane, but she knew it was a lie. 

“We’re about to shut the doors,” the agent gently told her as if she sensed Joey’s whole sad life story.

Joey nodded and expelled a long breath.  From here on out she was going to stop reading those damn romance novels.  Handing over her ticket, she scanned the crowded airport and swallowed an enormous lump of disappointment.

Maybe Ryan hadn’t found the letter yet, she reasoned.  Maybe she should have placed it on his box of cigars.  Or maybe this whole thing was just a fling for him.

He pretty much said as much.  She was just someone to end his little dry spell.

“How do I always get myself into these things?”

With a heavy heart, Joey boarded onto the plane and searched for her seat.  Once again, she’d booked into first class¾or P.J. had always called¾the first crash.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice floated out to her.  “This must be my lucky day.”

Joey glanced up and was stunned to see her ex-almost fiancé sitting next to her seat.

“I don’t know about you,” Laurence said, “but this must be fate.”

Chapter 26

             
Six Months Later

              Ryan arrived home and said nothing to the driver as he stepped out the vehicle and into the chilly night.  Tired, he exhaled gloomily as he stared at his sprawling mansion and wondered for the umpteenth time why he needed such a large place.

              The answer once again came in a rush: in his line of work it was more important to appear successful than to actually
be
successful.  Lucky for him; he was both.

              As he’d requested, no employees greeted him as he strolled through the door.  As usual the house’s silence was deafening and the cold...humbling.

              In the foyer, two sets of arched staircases ascended to the second level of the house. Ryan bounded up the right side, taking two steps at a time.  He peeled out of the suit that he would undoubtedly never wear again and headed straight for the shower.

              He paid no heed to how hot the water turned or how much the large bathroom filled with thick clouds of steam.  His tangled thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only: Ms. Joseph H. Adams.  He’d hoped that time and distance would weaken the memories and salve the pain.

              He was wrong.

              As it turned out, he remembered everything about the elusive beauty, and it seemed as if nothing would mend his broken heart.  Not work, not alcohol, not other women¾though he tried.  The results: his...little problem returned.

              Too bad women couldn’t suffer the same ailment.  However, he did pray Joey suffered with chronic headaches and a nonexistent libido whenever a man touched her.  It was only fair.

              Hours after
La Belle Vida
finished filming, Ryan hopped the first plane back to L.A.  He wanted to return sooner, track Joey down and drag her back to Milan--but Zach all but pounded reason into his hard head.  He was in the middle of a fifty-million dollar production and no doubt the investors and producers would skin him alive, literally, if he walked off set.

              However, now that he knew Joey as Joseph and the writer of his dream script, it took no time at all to contact her agent and obtain Joey’s address and phone number.  The problem was getting her to call him back.

He was still waiting.

              Shortly before being boiled alive, Ryan stepped out of the shower and toweled off.  When he opened the door to the adjoining bedroom, a billow of steam preceded him.

              His mind wrapped around all the things he could do to win Joey--all the things he could do to prove he wasn’t with her just to win a bet or that he thought of her as a notch on a bedpost. 

He’d sent flowers, jewelry and even a car--but everything was refused and sent back.  When each gift returned, Ryan’s desperation grew.  Somewhere along the way when he wasn’t looking Joey Adams stole the one thing he’d spent a lifetime guarding: his heart.

Somehow, some way, he had to get her back¾her and their future eight children.

#

“Joey turned down two million dollars?” Sheldon thundered, above baby number five’s cranky wails.  “Is she crazy or something?”

“I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say the ‘or something.’”  Michael rolled her eyes while her hairdresser finished pinning the French roll in her hair.  “Let’s not forget all the media hoopla she endured when she returned from Italy.  Everyone wanting to know the 4-1-1 on her and Donovan.”

“Don’t you hate it when celebrities complain?”  Sheldon chuckled.  “I still say she should take the money.  She’s been at this screenwriting thing forever and a day and finally a studio wants to buy a script and she turns it down?  It doesn’t make sense.”

Baby number five screamed.

“Shh, child.  Shh.”  Sheldon unceremoniously whipped out a breast and proceeded to breastfeed.

“Geez.  Will it kill you to warn someone before you do that?” Frankie frowned as she eased into the chair in between Sheldon and Michael.

“What?  Breastfeeding is natural.”

“So is doing a number one and number two and I don’t want you doing those in front of me, either,” Frankie snapped.

“What the heck is the matter with you?” Sheldon asked.

“This damn wedding.” Frankie tossed down her tube of mascara.  “I can’t believe you two are okay with this.”

The hotel room’s door opened and hurried Peyton rushed through, carrying her pale blue bridesmaid dress.  “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be sorry, we’ve only been here a few minutes ourselves.  Sheldon dragged all five of the rug rats with her,” Frankie griped. 

“Of course I brought them.  Ashley is the flower girl,” Sheldon defended.  “You’re just mad that George isn’t coming.”

“Of course, he’s not coming,” Michael said.  She closed her eyes and allowed the makeup artist to brush on heavy strokes of blue eye shadow.  “He didn’t come to my wedding, either.”

“Or mine,” Peyton added.

“Hell, I don’t think he came to mine either,” Sheldon said.

“No one went to your wedding--you eloped.  Remember?  You two pulled a Janet Jackson and didn’t tell anyone you were married for a full year.”

Sheldon shrugged.  “Daddy would have killed us.”

“He should have.  You were seventeen,” Michael huffed.

“Say what you want.  We’re
still
married.”

Peyton and Frankie watched to see if Michael would explode to the reference of her pending divorce. 

However, Michael smiled, though tightly, and said, “When you have a point, you have a point.”

“Are you going to move back to San Jose?” Peyton asked, settling into her own chair to wait her turn with the hairdresser.