WHAT ANNABELLE NEEDED AND WHAT SHE WANTED were two different things. Not that Mike was complaining about the sex. Lord knew the two of them were almost too hot to handle. Together, they generated enough heat to melt the polar ice cap. He wanted her to need him. He wanted to become an integral part of her happiness as she’d become part of his.
“Belle. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
That stopped her. Or it could have been his tone. Sure, he was at the end of his rope, and damn, this definitely cost him, but he refused to fall all over a girl who was just using him for sex. Even if it was great sex. For the first time in his life, great sex wasn’t enough.
Annabelle reached for the sheet at the foot of the bed and covered her skimpy tank and boxers. When he reached over to touch her, she shied away.
Great. He was really smooth. “Belle, I’ve got work in the morning, and I have to get some sleep. I was up most of last night on call.”
“Sure, whatever.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I might not be the mental giant you are, but even I know there’s more to this than you being tired. Why else would you leave?”
“Maybe because every time I get a glimpse of who you are, you shut me out. And although the sex is great, it’s not enough. I like you. A lot. If you’re looking for a bed buddy, I’m setting myself up, and frankly, I don’t think I can handle one more failure right now.”
Fabulous, she stared at him as if he were a loon. She probably had a point. What was it about her that made him crazy? What made him want to brand her as his and keep her all to himself? What made him want to introduce her to his mother? He closed his eyes and cringed. He sounded desperate, even to himself. God, how embarrassing. “Look, I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll make sure Wayne and Henry will be able to help you out until you’re better. Be sure to check in with Dr. Doyle. His number is on the instruction sheet by your meds.”
“What do you mean when you say you can’t handle another failure?”
Shit, he really didn’t want to go into this now—maybe not ever. “Things at work aren’t going well. It’s a long story.”
“And you think I’m just using you for sex?”
“Aren’t you?”
She put three fingers over his lips, effectively shutting him up and stopping him from saying too much. As if he hadn’t already. Her fingers trembled, and he found his hand wrapping around her wrist. He kissed the center of her palm, closed her fingers over the kiss, and stood to leave.
“Mike, wait.”
He stopped. Probably because he was a fool. Definitely because he was a fool. She had him so wrapped it was embarrassing.
Annabelle scooted closer. “You know, I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”
“Yeah.” Why did that only depress him? Any other guy would be jumping for joy. He turned and walked toward the door.
“Wait.”
Mike stopped and took a deep breath. He didn’t turn. He really didn’t want to see her looking beautiful and injured and confused, maybe even a little hurt. He stretched it with the hurt part, but hey, he deserved a little latitude after what he’d been through.
Arms came around him from behind, her breast pressed against his back. She held tight.
“I want you, Mike. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I do, you know. I like you a lot. I just want you a whole lot, too.”
He turned and lost himself in her eyes. Her admission had cost her, almost as much as walking away had cost him.
She seemed uncertain. “Is that okay? Is that enough for now?”
Relief washed through him, and every muscle in his entire body seemed to relax. He wrapped his arms around her, and when she looked at him, those eyes of hers nearly knocked him to his knees. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to leave before. Now, with her looking at him like that, there’s no way in hell he could leave, not if she wanted him to stay.
“I’ll stay if that’s what you want. It’s up to you.”
Annabelle pulled his head down for a kiss and then pulled away, her hands still in his hair. “You’ll tell me all about what’s going on with your job?”
Mike nodded.
“It’s a long story, huh?” She kissed him again. Her fingernails running across his scalp made his hair, among other things, stand up. “You might as well get comfortable.” She reached for the button band of his shirt. “We have all night.”
Annabelle unbuttoned his shirt, ran her hands down his chest, and when she slid them over his flat nipples, he tensed. She loved the way his body reacted to her every move. She kissed his nipple, his heart beating like a jackhammer beneath her lips, and as her hands slipped under his shirt at the shoulders, his muscles bunched under her fingers. She swept the shirt off and pushed him down on the bed, kneeling beside him as she worked the loosened buckle of his belt and flipped the top button of his pants open.
She kissed him, teased him, and listened to the change in his breathing as she slid the zipper of his fly down, reached into his jockeys, and wrapped her hand around his erection. The lamp on the bedside table created shadows, highlighting the washboard of his tensed stomach muscles—ridges she traced with her tongue.
Mike raised his hips, pushed his pants and jockeys down, kicking off his shoes, socks, and pants. His legs spread, and he seemed to be holding his breath. Their eyes met as his hand wrapped around hers, squeezing harder than she thought she should, and moved it up and down, pumping from its base to its head. A drop of semen glistened in the light; her tongue traced the ridge around the head.
Mike’s hand moved hers faster and faster. When she gently slipped her other hand around his testicles, she opened her lips around him and every muscle in his body seemed to strain as she went down on him, testing to see how much of him she could take.
His balls tightened in her hand as she advanced and retreated, sucking the sensitive head before sliding her lips back toward the base, until its head hit the back of her throat. The taste of him, the smell of him, and the sounds of his strangled cries drove her higher than she’d ever been, higher than she knew she could be considering he wasn’t even touching her.
She squeezed harder and followed her lips with her fist up and down his shaft. His hand made a fist in her hair as a groan ripped through him, egging her on, making her want to control him, just as he’d controlled her.
She sucked harder, tasting him. She heard him begging and tightened her grip around his erection, taking him deeper than she thought she could, and when she raked her nails lightly over his balls, he pulled her away just as he came. She’d never seen anything like it, spurting out over and over again, the power of it running through her hand and shooting over his chest and stomach.
Mike was spent. It was all he could do to breathe, his limbs felt like lead, and he threw his arm over his eyes to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but once he got it there, he ran out of energy. That was the most amazing, intense… He jumped when he felt something cool hit the fevered skin of his stomach. Annabelle sponged him down with a cool washcloth. Christ, he hadn’t realized she’d even gotten out of bed. Okay, so he took the selfish bastard prize for the day, and he’d make it up to her just as soon as he could move.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
God, was she kidding? He cleared his throat and put some real effort into rolling onto his side to face her. She looked… concerned. “No, you didn’t hurt me, incapacitate me, yeah, but in a good way.”
“Oh. Okay. You had me worried there for a minute.”
“Baby, you can’t wring a guy out like that and expect him to be coherent anytime soon.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mike pushed himself to a sitting position, and his stomach muscles felt as if he’d just done two hundred inclined crunches. He wrapped his arm around her waist, dragged her close, and kissed her swollen lips, tasting himself on her tongue. Damn, she was so hot; he couldn’t believe it, but he was getting hard again.
In between kisses he laid her down, pulled her tight little tank top over her head, and stripped the boxers she wore off her too. His hand roamed over her breasts, and his mouth joined in. His tongue played with her nipples, rolling one between his teeth and the other between his fingers.
Mike slid his hand down her body to the triangle of curls. She was hot and wet, and when he touched her, she moaned and pressed into his hand. He slid two fingers deep inside her as his thumb caressed the tight, hard nub. Mike reached blindly into the bedside table drawer for the box of condoms he’d tossed in there earlier, but his hand landed on something else.
“Mike, please… more.”
“You want more?”
“Yes.” Annabelle was trembling. He took BOB out of the drawer and looked it over while she rammed against his hand. It was big and purple, and it had a clit-tickler and a couple of buttons on the side of the battery pack.
“Close your eyes, and I’ll give you what you want.”
As soon as her eyes were closed, he pulled his fingers out and slid BOB in. Her eyes shot open as the vibrator filled her. As soon as he slid it home, he hit both buttons, and she bucked against it. She pulled her leg up and planted her uninjured foot on the mattress, and the second the tickler hit her clit she went wild. He’d never seen anything so erotic. Her back arched and she screamed for more, and he gave it to her. She took his hand in hers and set a rhythm, and when he didn’t follow her exact instructions, she pushed his hand away and pleased herself.
He’d never been so turned on. He watched her take herself over the edge and come holding the vibrator deep within her while the tickler vibrated on her nub. Mike grabbed a condom and rolled it on. “Belle, it’s my turn.” Mike rolled her over onto her stomach, lifted her onto her hands and knees, and tossed BOB aside. He knelt between her legs and slid himself in from behind. She tightened around him, and as he slowly pulled out, Annabelle tilted her ass up and took him deeper than he’d ever gone. She begged him to go faster, harder, and he was happy to oblige. Her orgasm began to take hold. He reached for the vibrator, held it to her clit, and she shattered like glass. The vibration ran through her to his dick. He drove hard, her orgasm gaining strength, gripping him, milking him, drawing him deeper. The combination of vibration and Annabelle’s orgasm had him coming so hard he saw stars. Annabelle collapsed onto her stomach, and he not so lightly followed her down. He lay there, still deep inside her, aftershocks shooting through them and the vibrator beside them vibrating away. He turned it off, rolled them over to their sides, and held her until they were both breathing normally. Once he thought he could stand, he slid out of bed and removed the condom. She was asleep by the time he came back to bed. She rolled over, used his shoulder as a pillow, and threw her leg over him without ever waking up. Mike kissed her forehead and fell asleep with her in his arms and a smile on his face.
The next morning, after Mike went home, showered, and changed, he checked the messages on his cell phone. There were three from Nick. He locked his apartment, nodded to Mrs. Kravtsov on his way out, and hit the speed dial.
“It’s about time you called me back. What’s going on with you and my fruitcake of a sister-in-law?”
“Hi, Nick. Aren’t you supposed to be bugging your new wife? You’ve been married all of, what? A week?”
“Nine days and”—there was a pause—“fourteen hours of wedded bliss… for the most part. However, I wouldn’t recommend redecorating on the honeymoon.”
“You haven’t taken a honeymoon.”
“We’ve got to get the Premier Motors deal put to bed and the house Dave-proofed, and then we’re off to tour Italy. I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the Alfa Romeo people. They’re giving us a car for two weeks.”
“Only you would conduct business on your honeymoon.”
“What can I say? I married the perfect woman.”
“Is Rosalie there with you?”
“Of course, where else would she be?”
“Do me a favor. Ask her who Chip and Becca are.”
“What kind of name is Chip?”
“I don’t know. Would you just ask her?”
“Okay, hold on.”
Mike crossed the street at the light and waited for Nick.
“She said Becca used to be Annabelle’s roommate a few years ago. Lee says Annabelle never brought her home and was kind of closemouthed about her time away. But then, it wasn’t as if Lee and Annabelle were ever really close. Hold on… Lee said she thought Becca may have a brother. She doesn’t remember his name, but it could have been Chip. Why the questions?”
“Annabelle’s never talked to Rosalie about some dead guy named Chip?”
“Chip’s dead?”
“Yeah, that’s why she doesn’t paint anymore.”
“Lee doesn’t know anything about any dead guy. You never said what was going on with you and Annabelle. Vinny hasn’t stopped talking about you two.”
“Vinny has a big mouth.”
“Yeah, but only because he’s concerned. You haven’t been by the restaurant, and Mona said you even skipped out on your weekly dinner with your mother.
“I swear you and Vinny are like a bunch of old ladies. Why don’t you find someone else’s life to screw with? I’ve got my hands full without your help.”
“You need something?”
“Only a new job, a few hundred K, oh, and possibly a good lawyer.”
“What’s this got to do with Annabelle?”
“Nothing. Right now, our relationship is the only thing going well in my life, so lay off, okay? We’re just figuring things out, and we don’t need anyone getting in the middle of it.”
“Mikey, what’s the problem?”
“Nothing you can help me with. One of the partners at work is a malpractice suit waiting to happen, and when I voiced my concern, the partners’ reactions were less than encouraging. If I go to the New York State Board for Professional Conduct and complain, I’ll be blackballed, not to mention I’ll be kissing my job, my investment, and my sweat equity good-bye.”
“You have to rat him out? Couldn’t you threaten to rat him out in exchange for your initial cash investment back?”
“Nick, I caught the errors. I changed the orders. It’s in the files. When he eventually screws up—and he will—I’d be left holding the bag by virtue of keeping my mouth shut. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I can’t let him continue to practice this way.”
“What if you threaten to turn in not only him, but the rest of the partners as well? That way they’ll pay up, you’ll cover your ass and assuage your conscience, and they’re on their own.”
Mike had to admit that didn’t sound like a bad idea. “That might work.”
“If you need a good attorney, I’m sure my firm has someone who can handle it.”
“Nick—”
“Hey, you know it’s there if you need it. If you don’t, good. So stop with the Mr. Independent crap—you’re wasting precious time. Have you started looking for another position?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. After this experience, I’m not sure a practice is where I want to be. I did due diligence. I checked out the practice, and look where it got me. Plus, I’m definitely not going to be Dr. Popularity if word gets out, and I doubt I’ll leave with a good recommendation.”
“You’re doing the right thing. How can they hold that against you?”
“Very easily. The more I think about this, the more ominous the situation looks. I might get a job at the hospital. They’re always looking for critical care doctors.”
“You might want to do that before you threaten to rat out the partner. Just a suggestion.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“Hey, what’s a best friend for?”
“How about letting me use the house in the Hamptons over Memorial Day… oh, and loan me a car to get there?”
“Are you planning to go with Annabelle?”
“What do you have against her, anyway?”
“I don’t know. One minute she’s engaged to a fuckin’ mortician and the next she’s going hot and heavy with my best friend, the doctor. It makes me wonder if she’s trading up. Ya know? Her mother’s a piece of work, and she’s been trying to marry both Rosalie and Annabelle off since they turned eighteen.”
“You married Rosalie.”
“Yeah, but she never wanted to get married. It’s different. She only married me because she can’t live without me. Not because her mother wants her to be married or because I have money. She married me because she loves me. I’m irresistible.”
“How the fuck do I know? All I know is if you had any idea how much her mother pushes them to marry well, you’d watch your back and practice safe sex.”
“That’s enough. Christ. You don’t know a thing about Annabelle. You need to back off. What makes you think she’d be more willing to listen to her mother than Rosalie was?”
“She was engaged to an asshole. Why would she plan to marry an asshole if she wasn’t getting pushed around by her mama?”
“I don’t know. But what I do know is that there’s a hell of a lot more to Annabelle Ronaldi than meets the eye, and I’m enjoying uncovering the hidden pieces.”
“I’m sure you are. But shit, Mike, you couldn’t uncover some other chick’s hidden pieces? You had to choose my sister-in-law? If this ends badly, it could be really awkward.”
“And if it doesn’t, it could be great. I like her. A lot. And no matter what you say, I’m not backing off. So you might as well get with the program. Now, are you going to let me use the house or not?”
“You gonna take Dave up there?”
“Yeah, I guess, if Annabelle agrees to go, we’ll take Dave.”
“Christ. Now we have to Dave-proof the beach house, too.”
“Annabelle and I can do it when we get there.”
“Yeah, right. Why do I have the feeling you’re going to be too busy exploring each other’s hidden pieces?”
“I don’t know… maybe because you’re no dummy.”
“Fine. I’ll send my assistant and her son for the weekend. They can Dave-proof the beach house.”
“Yeah, well. Just, you know, be careful. I don’t trust Annabelle.”
“Nick.”
“I’m sorry, man. But like you said, I don’t know her. I just have a bad feeling about this.”
“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, right. But if this comes back and bites you in the ass, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Okay. I stand warned. Now let’s drop it. I’m getting on the subway anyway.”
“Let me know what happens with the partners, and I’ll make sure Lois has all the information in case you need to get a lawyer. Just ask her, and she’ll take care of everything.”
“Not necessary, but thanks.”
“She’ll get you the keys to the beach house when you pick up the Dave car.”
“Dave has a car?”
“Yeah, I drive the Mustang when I have him with me. No need to get Dave hair all over the others. Besides, he likes the vibration of the engine.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re crazy?”
“Yeah, my wife lets me know on a daily basis.”
“Later, Nick.”
Mike ended the call and went to work with a smile on his face. His career might be in jeopardy, but at least he had a great weekend coming up if Annabelle could get away.
Annabelle was not in a good mood. She awoke alone with her ankle throbbing and nothing but a note on Mike’s pillow saying he had fed and taken Dave out and had to run home to change for work. At least he signed it with XXX. She was pretty sure that meant kisses.
The buzzer for the security door rang, and she slipped out of bed. Hobbling across the apartment to the door, she pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Annabelle, it’s me, Becca. Open the door.”
“Becca?” Annabelle pressed the security door release and began unlocking the door. A curse and then a thump sounded as she backed up to pull the apartment door open. There stood Becca… with luggage.
“What are you doing here?”
Becca kicked her bag in, blew her blonde hair out of her eyes, and hugged Annabelle. “I know you’re thrilled to see me, no matter what you say.” She stepped back and examined Annabelle from foot to head. “You look like you’re in pain. Satisfied, but in pain. I’m here to take care of you. Now go lie down while I have a look around.”
Annabelle’s head spun. Oh God. “But, Becca—”
Becca shooed her into the bedroom and plumped the pillows as she waited. Annabelle followed like an obedient puppy, and when she got close enough, handed over her crutches and sat on the edge of the bed. Becca motioned for her to lie down, so she did. There was no talking to Becca when she was on a Florence Nightingale kick.
“How’s the patient? Obviously, Dr. Flynn hasn’t let you out of his sight long enough to call your best friend.”
Annabelle resigned herself to Becca’s questioning, all the while wondering how to prepare her for seeing Mike. “Oh, sorry, Bec. I’ve been on these painkillers, and they make me all fuzzy, but yeah, he came over after work, fixed me the most amazing meal, and stayed over. Except for the fight we had and the fact I had just hurt my ankle, it was a really nice night.”
“You fought?” Becca kicked off her shoes and curled up on the end of the bed, careful to avoid Annabelle’s Ace-bandaged ankle and foot. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knee.
“We had a misunderstanding… well, several misunderstandings. I was a little wigged out about not being able to get around. Not only that, but I swear those painkillers had me acting like a lunatic. I even mentioned Chip. I never talk about Chip.”
Becca grabbed a pillow and placed it between her and the old metal bed’s footboard. She nudged Annabelle with her foot. “You need to. Maybe the painkillers didn’t make you crazy. Maybe they made you less repressed.”
Annabelle covered her face with her hands, remembering everything she and Mike had done right here in this very bed. God. “Yeah, well, repressed is not how I’d describe myself last night. I’ve never been so uninhibited in my life.”
“Although I’m happy you’re finally getting laid and enjoying it, there’s more than one way to be repressed. You’ve made it a full-time occupation. I swear you need a shrink.” Becca ran her fingers through her almost platinum blonde hair, letting it fall back into place. She had the perfect style—a blunt A-line cut shorter in the back, longer at the jaw, with choppy bangs.
Annabelle would kill to have hair like Becca’s. Becca was one of those perfect women with perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect height and weight, and a great personality. She was so nice that a girl couldn’t even hate her. Well, not much anyway. “Italians don’t go to shrinks—we go to confession.”
“I can see that’s working really well for you. You need to deal with Chip’s death. Does your family even know about him?”
“What am I supposed to say? I lived in sin with a man for two years until he died, and then I came home? That’ll go over well. My mother would probably just move into St. Joseph’s. She’s got her own pew there as it is.”
“Chip just stayed with us for several months, so it wasn’t like you were ‘living together, living together.’ It was more like he just crashed at our place. You weren’t really living in sin technically until I moved out.
“When you were living together, I understood why you hid it. But since his death, they’d never know unless you told them. And what about me? Don’t you think it’s weird that we’ve been best friends for four years, and I’ve yet to meet your family?”
Annabelle groaned. “Why would you want to meet them? You know what a nightmare they can be.”
“Because I love you, you ninny. You met my family.”
“I could have lived a long and happy life without ever setting eyes on that mother of yours, and your dad is just as bad, in a quieter, more ominous way. Besides, why do you need to meet them? I talk about them all the time. It’s like you know them.”
Becca slid off the bed and walked around the bedroom picking things up and putting them back down. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”
“Do you want to talk about this again, or do you want to hear about last night?”
Becca glanced over her shoulder at Annabelle and waggled her eyebrows.
“Mike thought I was using him for sex. Do you believe it?”
Becca turned, leaned against the dresser, and crossed her legs. “You are.”
“Yeah, but I like him, too.”
“Oh, and you’re so good at expressing your feelings that he knew that?”
Annabelle flopped back on the pillows. “Fine, I’m repressed. I admit it, okay? I’m working on it. I told him I liked him. A lot.”
“That’s nice. So now I guess it’s official. You have a boyfriend. I told you so.”
“Yeah, you usually do.”
Becca picked up the framed picture of the two of them together. “Maybe you’ll start taking my advice. It’s not going to kill you to talk about Chip. You have a lot of baggage there.” She turned her attention from the frame to Annabelle. “Mike doesn’t seem to mind that you’re nutty and repressed. He probably thinks it’s quirky. Some guys get off on that.”
“Becca? So, after you, you know… How long before you can do it again?”
Becca resumed her place at the foot of the bed, but this time she lay on her side across the bed. She pulled the pillow under her head. “Just taking a stab in the dark here, but are we talking about intercourse?”
“Yeah. The night of the dinner… it was over, and we were lying there… together if you know what I mean. Then a minute later, I could have sworn he was ready to go again. And I thought, ‘Wow—okay!’ But he got up and went to the bathroom.”
“I assume you’re using protection.”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you’re using condoms, you’re not supposed to do it more than once without changing them.”
“Oh. But when he came back to bed, nothing happened.”
“Did you let him know you wanted to make love again?”
Annabelle sighed, “No.”
“You know, the man is a doctor, not the Amazing Kreskin.”
“When he came back and didn’t do anything, I went to sleep.”
“Live and learn. At least you’re having sex. I am going through the world’s longest drought. I’ve worn out two vibrators since the last time I saw a real model. Maybe Mike has a brother.”
“No. He’s an only child.”
“Bummer. I can’t wait to meet him, though. Is he coming over tonight, or are you going to bring him down for a weekend? Maybe we can meet at the beach house. Since the divorce, Mother and Father don’t use it much—no need to hide their lovers anymore.”
“Remember when I met Mike, I said he looked a lot like Chip?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I wasn’t kidding. I’d swear you guys were related. He looks like Chip’s twin.”
“Oh, come on, you must be exaggerating.”
“I’m not. I even got one of my paintings out because I thought I was on the Insanity Express rounding the bend to Psychosis City. I don’t want you to freak if you meet him.”
“I don’t know when I’ll see him again, and it’s not as if you’re moving in. I’m going to work, so you’re going to take the train back tomorrow, right?”
“Okay, I’ll go, as long as you promise to bring him down soon.”
“Mike works a lot, and I’m not going anywhere for a while. He said I had to wear this ugly air cast or stabilization boot and hobble around with crutches for a few weeks. I’m not hitting the beach until I’m good as new.”
“Too bad Neimans or Bloomies don’t have a medical supply store. They’d design a boot with some style or at least color.”
Annabelle rolled over and saw Mike had left a thermal cup full of coffee, a glass of water, and her painkillers by the bed. She took a sip of hot coffee and had to admit Mike staying over did come with several perks, the least of which was coffee—and to a caffeine junkie like her, that was saying a lot.
She took the prescription painkillers. “Maybe I can decorate it.”
Becca laughed out loud. “That I’d like to see.”
Becca cleaned Annabelle’s apartment, not that it needed much. Either Annabelle had turned over a new leaf, or she had a cleaning service come in. But since there wasn’t anything else to do, she busied herself by straightening an already-clean place. She was worried about Annabelle, and cleaning was a perfect stress reliever, even if it was hell on the nails, which is why Annabelle always avoided it at all cost. Becca didn’t mind cleaning, and she couldn’t believe it, but she felt a twinge of jealousy knowing Annabelle didn’t really need her anymore. Maybe Mike did more than just cook. Hmm… interesting. She got out the Comet, scrubbed the already-spotless kitchen sink, and then looked at her nightmare of a manicure. It wasn’t as if she kept her nails up anyway. Long nails and clay didn’t mix. She thought of her latest sculpture and wished she didn’t have to leave it. Her appointment with the gallery owner was in two weeks, and she wanted to get pictures of the new piece to add to her portfolio.
Annabelle had already expressed interest in her work, but in Becca’s book that was cheating. Annabelle loved her work because Annabelle loved her, which is why she refused. When she finally made the big time, she wanted to know she’d made it on her own. When she rubbed her mother’s nose in her success, she’d do it without ever having to wonder if she’d made it up the ladder by her own steam or because of someone else’s.
Becca sprayed Windex on the bathroom mirror. She studied her reflection between the bubbles and smiled, happy with herself for the first time in her life. She liked the person she’d become. She’d come into her own in the two years since Chip’s death. She’d taken the time to look at her life and turn it into something to be proud of. Therapy and time had helped. She no longer worried about Chip. He was in a better place. She no longer played the referee between her brother and her parents, or between her mother and her father. She took care of herself, and for now, that was enough. Sure, she missed having a relationship. And she missed the sex that went along with a relationship. A lot. But, she didn’t miss the bad relationships, and since every guy she’d dated thus far had been Mr. Wrong, she had no problem not looking for Mr. Right. At least right now.
Now, she only worried about Annabelle. The girl didn’t have great taste in men. First, there was Chip. Although Becca loved her brother, he hadn’t been the most attentive boyfriend. Before he got sick, she reamed him for being an ass. Granted, considering the relationship their parents had, his behavior wasn’t surprising, but that didn’t mean Annabelle didn’t deserve better. At least Chip had been willing to marry Annabelle, though she’d refused. The last thing Annabelle wanted was to prove their parents right. They’d said she was only interested in his money, and she wanted none of it.
When Annabelle had called to say she was engaged to Johnny, Becca had been hopeful. Unfortunately, Johnny made Chip look like Prince Charming. That’s why she’d wasted no time jumping on a train to New York to check out Annabelle’s new main squeeze. At least this guy sounded like he knew his way around a woman’s body. Not surprising; after all, he was a doctor. He should know something. He also brought flowers, cooked, and from the look of Annabelle’s apartment, cleaned too. Always a good sign. She’d sampled his soup and had to admit she was impressed. The man could definitely become a chef if the whole doctor thing didn’t work out.
Becca checked on Annabelle—still passed out on painkillers. She was a true lightweight. Becca started tackling the study and straightened the computer table. Annabelle had tossed all her papers in a heap on the table, and Becca went through them just like the old days when they shared a place. She tossed out junk mail, stacked the bills, and it saddened her that she didn’t find sketches on every spare piece of paper. She noticed a sketch pad, but when she thumbed through it, she found every page blank. She set the box of pencils on top of the sketch pad and accidentally moved the mouse.
Annabelle’s computer came out of sleep mode and a slideshow began. Becca watched the pictures and smiled when she saw a picture of Chip and Annabelle. It wasn’t one she’d seen before. Amazingly, he wore a dark suit and danced with Annabelle. Their bodies pressed together intimately, and the look on his face…
Becca clicked on the picture and it bled into the next. Shit. She pulled up iPhoto and opened the library, searching through every picture until she found the gorgeous man who looked like Chip but wasn’t. Becca couldn’t believe her eyes. She printed the close-up of his face, and the picture of him standing beside his friend, the groom. If it weren’t for the color of his eyes, the break in his nose, and the mouth, he’d be Chip. Amazing. They say everyone has a double, but she’d never seen anything as close as this without major plastic surgery.
Annabelle hadn’t been kidding when she said Mike looked like Chip. They had to be related somehow. Dr. Mike Flynn. Wow. Now Becca not only worried that he treated Annabelle well, but worried that the only reason Annabelle dated the poor guy was the amazing resemblance to her lost love. It didn’t take Einstein to spot trouble ahead.
She stared at the pictures until it hurt. Mike looked so much like her brother. The brother she remembered before the cancer came back. She rubbed her eyes and refused to cry any more tears over the past. She took the two pictures and stuck them in her backpack; she needed to do some climbing on the family tree and see where this limb fit. She’d have to do something she’d been avoiding—she’d have to go and see her father.