When You Were Mine (Adams Sisters) (3 page)

“C’mon.  It’s all I have.”

“I don’t think so.”  He boldly slipped the money between her breasts.  “You know the rules.”

Joey slapped his hand away and stabbed him with a narrow glare.  Yet, as she turned away, her mind raced with alternative ways to get into the building.  Laurence was inside, and she had to talk him out of breaking up with her--with as much dignity as possible, of course.

#

“Ryan, my man.  You came.”  Fredrick Benson’s loud thunderous voice boomed over the Blue Diamond’s bass-thumping music. 

Ryan winced as his friend’s heavy hand pounded across his back and threatened to dislodge a lung.  “A promise is a promise,” he chuckled, and drained the rest of his drink.

Freddie, a giant of a man at six-foot-six, earned the nickname of Cool Freddie for being that--cool.  Nothing ever ruffled Freddie’s feathers, and he liked nothing more than being the life of the party.

“Well, it’s good to see money and fame hasn’t changed you.”  Fredrick took another whack at Ryan’s back.  “Of course, I can’t say the same for my older brother, Larry--the cosmetic surgeon to the stars.”  Freddie shook his head.  “Trust me.  It’s all gone to his head.  You should see the number he showed up with here tonight.  The girl doesn’t have breasts, she has flotation devices.”

“I’m guessing they’re still great to stare at,” Ryan snickered and puffed on his cigar.

“True that.  True that,” Freddie agreed with a wide, spreading grin.  “Are you cool, or should I have one of the girls get you another drink?”

“I’m cool.”  Ryan cast another glance around the crowded dance floor and placed his empty glass on a passing waitress’s tray.  “But where’s the john?  I have a few minutes to kill before Zach gets here.”

“More business?”

Ryan cocked a sly grin.  “Like Biggie said--”

“More money, more problems.” Freddie joined in and laughed.  “The closest set of restrooms is down past the first bar.”

“Roger that.” Ryan slapped him on the shoulder.  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You got it.”

Ryan turned and dropped his smile as he navigated through a throng of dancing people.  The Blue Diamond, heavy on stylish design, was a sizable nightclub, and incorporated three distinct areas into one nighttime destination. The first section was a smoke-free, Asian-inspired lounge with a full bar and an elevated DJ station.  Next was the dance floor, Jam, a technological whirlwind of twenty-five flat-screen televisions and explosive colors powered by a kinetic lightning system. 

The last section was a lush courtyard, which provided an opportunity for an open-air stroll in a Japanese-style garden surrounded by a giant frog pond lined with wooden benches.

However, life in the fast lane no longer impressed Ryan.  He’d seen too many people get caught up with the drinking, the women and the drugs.  Sure, once upon a time he was footloose and fancy-free, but that was a synonym for being young and stupid.

“Hey, baby.  Wanna dance?”

Ryan stalled at the feel of a woman’s hand pressed against his arm.  He glanced down at the young girl with too much makeup and was certain she was a few years shy of the club’s requirement age of twenty-one.

“I don’t think so.”  Ryan said, and then watched the young lady’s gaze drag over him.  Undoubtedly, the lady’s mental calculator tallied in his expensive clothes and tasteful grade of bling.

“Are you sure?”  She inched closer, pursing her lips into a perfect pout.  “I know how to show you a good time.”

He flashed a sly smile.  “How old are you?” 

“Why?  Do you want to being my daddy?”

He glanced at his watch.  “You better get home.  I think it’s way past your curfew.” 

The girl rolled her eyes.  “Asshole.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”  Ryan turned.  At the bar, he extinguished his cigar and plowed ahead.  Despite a crowd milling outside the restroom doors, Ryan was relieved to see only one patron inside checking out his reflection in the mirror.   

“What’s up?” the short Italian asked in a thick accent. 

“Nothin’.  Just chillin’,” Ryan responded, injecting the right amount of street cred into his voice before heading over to a fancy stone waterfall that functioned as a urinal.

“This place is crawling with hot ladies.”  The Italian popped his collar.  “It’s impossible for a
brother
not to score in this place.”

Ryan snickered and held back from pointing out the truth to the man was
not
a brother.  Instead, he finished his business, zipped up, and headed over to the sinks.

The Italian finished obsessing over his hair and gave himself a wink in the mirror.  “I’m going in.”  He turned for the door.

“You get ‘em, tiger,” Ryan chuckled, squirting soap into his hand.  As he washed up, he practiced his pitch to Zach.  “Be firm, be direct, and don’t let Miramax talk you into doing some silly romantic comedy in Italy.”

Ryan drew a deep breath and stared at his reflection.  With any luck, he could make this deal and be home and in bed by midnight.

Tap.  Tap.

What is that?
  He glanced around and frowned. 

Tap.  Tap.

Ryan’s gaze zoomed toward a high bathroom window above one of the stalls.  Suddenly it opened and a pair of silver stilettos emerged.  Stunned yet amused, Ryan folded his arms to watch.  At the sight of long, toned, pecan-colored legs, Ryan’s blood stirred.

“Damn it.  I’m stuck.”  The woman grunted, and then wiggled her rump to try to squeeze through.

“And I thought I’d seen everything.”  Chuckling, Ryan headed toward the pair of gorgeous legs and refrained from touching them to see if they were as soft as they look; but something else soon caught his attention and he smiled.  “Need help?”

The woman stopped wiggling.

“Ma’am?”

“Uh, are you looking up my dress?”

Ryan pulled his gaze away from the lacy white panties and lied, “Of course not.”

The woman huffed, wiggled and then after a long pause asked, “Can you please help me?  I can’t move, and I think I’m losing the feeling in my hip.”

Ryan entered the stall and could only think to stand up on the toilet to reach the damsel in distress.  Even then, he wasn’t sure of what part to grab or hold.  He reached and then stopped to contemplate the situation--even wondered if this was some paparazzi setup.

“Can you please hurry?  I’d hate to die like this.”

“I take it there was something wrong with using the front door?”  Ryan settled on placing his hands beneath a part of her butt--a nice, firm butt to be exact¾and lifted her upward. 

“What are you doing?” the woman yelled.

“Wait, let me just pull--”

“Stop, stop,” the woman panted.  “You’re going to snap me in half!”

Ryan stopped and reassessed the situation.

“I don’t think lifting me is going to work.”

“You don’t say,” Ryan griped.  “Maybe I should go and get the manager.”

“No.  No.”  Panic melded into the woman’s voice.  “We can do this?”

Ryan chuckled.  “I take it you’re not supposed to be here?”

“Gee.  I bet you were the smartest in your class.”

Ryan frowned.  “You know, I think it’s a rule somewhere not to insult the person who’s trying to help you.” 

The woman huffed a frustrated breath.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Ryan smiled and again averted his gaze from the woman’s Victoria’s Secrets.  “So what should we do next?”

“I don’t know.  You have a better view of this.”

“A damn good one,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Why don’t I just...”

Before Ryan could react, the woman’s sleek legs wrapped around his neck in a Chinese scissor hold.

“...do this and you lean back and pull me through.”

This was one for the record books, Ryan thought.  How many men could boast about meeting a woman’s crotch before being introduced?

“Okay.  Now, pull.”

Ryan obliged before there was damage to his air supply, and to his great relief and surprise, the woman’s rump cleared the small windowsill.  However, a toilet seat wasn’t an ideal spot for a game of tug-of-war.  Immediately after his great heave, he and the mystery woman were suspended in air for an eternity before their big crash against the linoleum floor.

“Oomph.” Every ounce of air flew out of Ryan’s body.

“Oh, my God.  Are you all right?”

“I think...I’m paralyzed,” Ryan croaked beneath a mass of legs and white panties.

The door squeaked open and Jay-Z’s rap lyrics bounced off the bathroom’s natural acoustics.

“Damn, man,” A voice boomed.  “Get a room.”  The door slammed shut behind the patron’s dramatic exit.

“Oh, good grief.”  The woman scrambled off Ryan’s chest.

The sudden rush of oxygen to Ryan’s brain made him dizzy, and he still had serious reservations about whether he could get off the floor.  However, that was nothing compared to the tricks his eyes played on him as he gazed up at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  “Hot damn.  I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Chapter 4

              “Ryan Donovan?” Joey brushed her hair back from her eyes and then blinked in surprise.  “My God.  It
is
you.”  She took his hand and shook it.  I’m such a big fan of your work.”  She scrambled for her purse, and swore when she glanced inside.  “I don’t have any of my business cards.  Oh, I know.”  She grabbed an ink pen, took his hand and sprawled her contact information across the palm of his hand.  “My name is Joey Adams and I’m a screenwriter.”

              Despite the pain, he smiled.  “Nice to meet you, Joey.”

“What are you doing here?” she gushed.

              “Oh, just lying here reminiscing on the days when I could feel the lower part of my body.  Good times.”

              “Ohmigosh.  I’m so sorry.”  Joey scooped an arm beneath his back.  “C’mon, let me try and help you up.”

              “Uh, I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.”  However, his words fell on deaf ears as Joey tugged and pulled on his arms.  Grudgingly, he sat up before she wrenched his arm out its socket.

              “See, you’re going to be all right,” she panted, propping him against a stall door.  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

              “What fingers?” Ryan joked with a sly smile and then drank in her beauty.  Her wide, warm chestnut-colored eyes sparkled and he salivated at the sight of her full, kissable lips. 

              “Are you all right?”  Joey studied him.  “You didn’t crack your skull, did you?  Maybe I should go get the manager?”

              “No, no.  I’m fine.”  Ryan attempted to stand but was stunned when the room tilted sideways.  He reached for Joey as gravity overpowered him; but she proved just as unstable on those high stilts masquerading as shoes, and they landed with another splat on the linoleum.

              Joey chuckled.  “If we keep this up, we’re going to break something.”

              Heat scorched up the column of Ryan’s neck and then simmered in his cheeks at the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest.  Hell, it was the first time he’d had a hard-on in months.

              “Hey, we heard someone was gettin’ it on in here,” a man announced, bursting through the door with a loud group of rambunctious men behind him. 

              “Yeah.  Can we watch?” another man asked as all eyes fell on Ryan and Joey.

              “Sorry, boys, but we’re all done,” she joked good-naturedly and climbed back to her feet.

              More men piled in, trying to steal a peek, and Ryan had to stifle his own disappointment for having their private moment snatched away.  When Joey’s gaze returned, he smiled and managed to somehow climb back onto his feet.

              The shortest man in the crowd, who was also dressed in a hideous pea-green suit, wagged his finger.  “Hey, don’t I know you?”

              Belatedly, Ryan remembered his celebrity status and quickly imagined a barrage of tabloid junkets with his picture and a caption:
Famed Director Caught in a Toilet Rendezvous.  

              “Let’s go.” Not waiting for a reply, he seized Joey’s elbow and guided her toward the door.

              “I’m sure I know you,” the man continued.

              “He does look familiar,” someone else said as he passed.

              Navigating a path out of the bathroom was like whacking through a sugarcane field, but he managed to get them through without incident.

              “Careful.  Careful.  I don’t think these shoes were made for walking,” Joey complained.

              Against his will, Ryan chuckled.  “Then why wear them?”

              “Use your imagination,” she teased.

             
Why did you have to say that?
  Snapshots of Joey in a fire-engine red teddy and silver stilettos draped across his large bed filled his head and caused his rock-hard erection to ache.  Looks like he’d just found the woman to end his little slump.

              He slowed down when they reached one of the bars and then turned toward her.  “Mind if I ask a silly question, Ms. Adams?”

              “Shoot.”

              “What the hell are you doing breaking into the men’s bathroom like that?”

              “My name wasn’t on the list, and Marcus refused to let me in.”

              Ryan frowned.  “You climbed through the men’s bathroom because your name wasn’t on the VIP list?  Why didn’t you just come in through the general admission door?”

              Joey stiffened.  “What general admission door?”

              “Look around,” Ryan laughed.  “There are hundreds of people here.  Surely, you don’t think
all
of them are on the VIP list?”

              “General admission.”  Joey closed her eyes as a rush of embarrassment overwhelmed her.

              “Ten dollars to get in.”  He shrugged.  “With the place being so huge, its entrance is actually down a block but--”

              “Okay, I get it.”  She shook her head and swore under her breath.  “But I still need to get into the VIP section.”  She started toward the first section of the club.  The area would be blocked off with more bouncers and security personnel whose sole jobs were undoubtedly to keep the riff-raff away from “the chosen.”