“With who?” he thundered protectively. “What’s his name? What does he do? Who are his people?”
Naomi just laughed. “Chill. You’re crazy if you think I’m about to tell you or knuckleheaded Khail my business so you can run police and credit checks on them. I can handle my own business.”
Kyson was silent, wondering if he should call up some of his old high-school boys in Atlanta and put a tag on Naomi. She didn’t know men like he knew them, and the last thing he wanted was to see her hurt. “All right. I’m gonna leave it alone.”
“Good.”
“For now,” he amended.
“Whatever. You just make sure you find yourself a nice birthday present,” she teased. “Breaking your no-sex rule this one time won’t be the end of the world.”
“I’m hanging up,” he said, determined not to have this conversation.
“All right. I’m just trying to help out.”
“Thanks, but I think I can handle my own sex life.” Despite that it currently consisted of him whacking off in the shower.
The moment he ended the call, Khail wrapped an arm around his neck and held him in a choke hold.
“Happy birthday, little man.” Khail rubbed his knuckles against the top of Kyson’s head and then released him shortly before he passed out. “Tell you what. No training today. It’s officially your day off.”
“I take it this means you didn’t buy a gift?”
“I’m going to get you something better than a gift,” Khail boasted. “I’m going to get you laid. It’s been a few months since you broke up with that psycho you were dating. It’s time to get your feet wet again.”
“That’s all right,” Kyson said, remembering the near-anorexic women with fake double D’s Khail usually dated. “I can handle my own love life.”
“Love?” Khail said, truly perplexed. “Who said anything about love? This is about getting laid so you can stop jerking off in the shower.”
For three days Michael waited on pins and needles for the police to return and haul her off to jail. Three days of eating everything that wasn’t nailed down. Three days of packing her clothes and then unpacking them at the thought of living the rest of her life on the run.
For the first time in her life, Michael was completely at someone else’s mercy. The thought of it being her ex-husband made it all the worse.
Of course, her nerves might have been a little better if her sisters would stop calling every other hour. Then again, they had every reason to be as anxious as she did. Phil had threatened to have them all thrown in jail.
This stalling tactic either meant Phil had had a change of heart or he’d learned a few tricks of her trade and was making her and her sisters sweat. If it was the latter, she was impressed.
The phone rang.
Michael jumped. When she realized it was just a telephone, she nearly fainted with relief, but then remembered that bad news often came by phone. Crossing her bedroom, she looked at the caller-ID console on the nightstand. This time, she allowed herself to collapse on the bed, relieved to see Joey’s cell number.
“Hey, Joey. What’s up?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Joey laughed. “Don’t tell me you forgot about tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Joey sighed and then laughed. “So you did forget. Figures. Let me guess, you’re still playing Nancy Drew with your ex. Girl, exhale already before you do something you’ll regret. You’re getting too old for us to keep bailing you out of jail.”
If she only knew. So far, Joey was the only sister who didn’t know about Phil’s kidnapping and escape. So far, she and her other sisters saw no reason to drag Joey into it. They were pretty much just hoping Phil had calmed down and chalked the episode up as another one of Michael’s wild pranks.
Keyword was hoping.
“Michael, are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. Changing the subject, what did I forget about tonight?”
“Dad and Donna’s first anniversary.”
Michael groaned. Only the shenanigans of the past few days could have made her forget about their father’s anniversary party. While it was still strange to have another sister—one that was thirty-six years younger—she found it even harder to accept her new stepmother.
They all had.
“Yeah. Yeah. It’s all starting to come back to me now.”
“Don’t worry about it. I hear the mind is the first thing to go.”
Michael rolled her eyes. “Laugh all you want. You’re just a year behind me.”
“A year and a half,” Joey corrected. “Get it right.”
Michael appreciated and welcomed this short reprieve and laughed. But going out tonight, when she was still waiting for Phil to make his intentions clear made her more than a little wary about going out. “Look, Joey, about tonight—”
“Don’t even think about canceling. If I have to go, then so do you.”
Silence.
“Mikey,” Joey insisted. “We promised Dad we would put more of an effort into welcoming Donna into the family.”
“I know. I know,” Michael huffed. The main problem the Adams clan had with the whole Donna issue was the way their father had kept his relationship with this mysterious young woman hush-hush. That is, until he knocked her up and then did the gentlemanly thing by marrying her.
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.
Chapter 9
Marlin 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 see
med 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, a
nd 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.
Controversy Page 6