Nothing But Trouble (11 page)

But the truth was he did care. He cared way
too much and those feelings had been bordering on something more
for a long time. Whenever he saw her, a strange feeling twisted in
the pit of his stomach. And when he touched her, something shifted
inside of him. No other woman had been able to elicit those
reactions from him. It scared the shit out of him, and that's why
he needed to stay away from her. She'd fall in love with him, and
he'd break her heart. The same way his father had broken his
mother's heart, over and over again.

He wouldn't be able to live with himself if
he turned out to be the man to put that same hurt look on her face.
She was too special for that.

Too good.

Too pure.

Everything he wasn't and never would be.

But why did she have to make it so damn hard
for him? Didn't she know she needed to stay away from him? How
could he do the right thing if she kept batting those green eyes at
him and shaking her sinfully sexy hips? Shit, he had will power but
it wasn't iron-clad. If she kept pushing him like this, he was
going to push back. He feared both of them would like the result
too much to stop.

Where would that leave them?

After gutting the engine of the Corvette,
R.J. stepped back to survey his work. Not bad for one guy. He
snagged a nearby towel and swiped it across his greasy hands. His
throat was so damn parched he felt like he'd swallowed a handful of
sand.

He walked toward the office and to the mini
fridge that stored several bottles of water. Danielle had brought
the appliance in about a year ago, so she could have a place to
store her lunches. Plus the bottled water came in handy, especially
for mechanics buried under a car on a hot day. He tossed aside the
towel and opened the office door.

There, in the desk chair, hunched over the
keyboard of the computer was his office manager, fast asleep. What
the hell? How did he not see her car when he'd pulled into the
parking lot? And what was she doing here on a Sunday morning?

He stepped toward her and was about to nudge
her shoulder when his gaze fell on an orange prescription bottle.
On the desk, right next to Danielle's elbow with Lindsey's name on
the label.

What the hell?

Why would Danielle have Lindsey's medicine
here, with her, on a Sunday morning?

Instantly, thoughts of all Rebecca's
questions and catching Danielle taking medicine and claiming
migraines, came back to him. Rebecca hadn't given him shit to go on
with all her I-can't-talk-about-its and odd questions. But he knew
something with his office manager wasn't right. Just as Rebecca had
said.

R.J. picked the bottle up and scanned the
label. 30mg of Adderall XR for a ten year old girl? Lindsey had
ADD?

"What the hell are you doing?"

Danielle's sudden exclamation yanked him out
of his questioning thoughts. He barely had time to glance at her
when she snatched the bottle out of his hand and shoved it in the
desk drawer. If her daughter had ADD, wouldn't she need the
medication at home and not at her mother's office? And especially
not in a drawer, where Danielle could forget to bring it home?

"I could ask you the same question,
Danielle," he retorted instead of answering her demand.

Her bloodshot, blue eyes narrowed at him.
"What were you doing with that bottle?"

He stared back at her for a moment, noticing
the lack of makeup, the hollow cheeks and lines of stress
bracketing her full mouth. "What were
you
doing with it?"
When she stood from the chair, he wrapped a hand around her elbow,
preventing her from dismissing him. "Do you have a problem you need
to tell me about?"

"That," she emphasized with jerk of her arm.
"Is none of your business."

"What goes on in my office is my business,
Danielle. So I'll ask you again: Do you have a problem?"

Her lips tightened and for a moment he wasn't
sure she was going to answer the question. "Taking an Adderall
every once in a while to get me through the day isn't a problem.
Lots of people do it, so get off my back. Okay?"

Except he wasn't sure it was just once in a
while. And why would the prescription be made out to Lindsey if
Danielle was the one who needed the Adderall?

She must have taken his silence as not
accepting her explanation, because she added, "It's all under
control."

"Is it?" he countered. "Because you don't
seem like yourself."

"If I tell you it is, then it is. I don't
have a problem and I'm not an addict." She gathered her stuff off
the desk, dropping her car keys twice before swiping them off the
floor with trembling hands. Hands, he just noticed where thinner
than he remembered, with bony fingers clasping the keys and shoving
them in her purse. The office door slammed behind her, echoing in
the quiet interior and making the metal mini blinds clang against
the window frame.

R.J. stood in the wake of her departure and
tried to make sense of what had just happened. The woman in the
office this morning was not the woman he'd hired two years ago.
Danielle had always been vibrant, with bouncing shiny hair and a
light in her eyes that was unique to her. In fact, that was one of
the things that had always drawn him to her. Not only was she
gorgeous and held her own in an environment of men, but there'd
always been a fire in her. She was a go-getter who'd earned the
respect of his other employees.

Her behavior the last few days threw him for
a loop. She didn't look like herself. With the weight she'd dropped
and the dull, uncombed hair, it was like a different woman had
taken over her body.

But beyond that, he was concerned for her.
And not just the business. He cared about Danielle, and if she was
doing something that could potentially harm her, she needed help.
He didn't know much about ADD and even less about Adderall, but
taking any drug that wasn't prescribed couldn't be good.

He turned to walk out of the office, but his
eyes landed on the list of parts for Charlie's cars. Immediately,
he knew the list was incomplete. No way could the couple dozen
parts listed be everything they needed to restore the two classic
cars.

A small shiver of panic coursed through him
as he sat down at the desk and rifled through the papers. Danielle
had a very efficient storage system. Every file had a code and was
stored in its own place. R.J. hardly ever delved into the files or
micromanaged Danielle's system. She knew it inside and out.
Unfortunately, he didn't know more beyond typing in the client's
name to pull their information. He only hoped Charlie's file would
have a note about an order placed for his cars.

No such note was in the client's file. So
R.J. pulled up the history of recent orders placed and hadn't found
one for Charlie for at least a year. The panic pulsing through him
a second ago, turned into full-blown hysteria. Had Danielle ordered
these parts on time, they'd arrive next week. That would give him
and his guys plenty of time to restore the cars by August. If, in
fact, they hadn't been ordered, it could be another month before he
received enough of the parts to start. Getting them finished by
August, if that was the case, would really be pushing it. R.J.
would have to pull extra hours and overnighters to get the job
done.

Even though it was Sunday, he placed a call
to his supplier and left them a message to call him back first
thing tomorrow morning. Before jumping to conclusions, R.J. needed
to verify that the order hadn't been placed. If it hadn't, then
Danielle would have a shit storm come down on her like she'd never
seen. Charlie was his biggest client and R.J. could not afford to
screw up this job.

He stood from the chair and worked the kinks
out of his back. After walking back into the shop, he swiped his
shirt off the floor and tugged it over his head. He owed Rebecca an
apology, and not another quick text message like the one he'd sent
two nights ago.

Chances were she was right about Danielle,
and he shouldn't have snapped at her like that. Rebecca wouldn't
have come to him with concerns if she didn't have good reason. Not
only that, she'd never been a vindictive person. She had an
enormous heart and had always lived to help others. She'd come to
him out of concern for him, and instead of being thankful he'd
accused her of being jealous. What kind of insensitive asshole
reacted that way?

She'd been completely within her rights to
tell him to go to hell.

For the rest of the day, R.J. worked on his
cars, getting as much done as one person could. Only when his
stomach rumbled for dinner did he stop. On the way home, he grabbed
a burger and Coke, then made a detour to Rebecca's
neighborhood.

His balls hardened at the thought of seeing
her again. Would her hair be free, with its wild curls calling out
for his fingers to tame them? Would she have reading glasses
perched on that petite nose? One thing he could say for sure, was
that no matter how she'd look, he'd want her. He'd stopped trying
to control his body's reaction to her a long time ago. All she had
to do was breathe and he was a goner.

Her mother's late model sedan was parked in
the street along the curb. He'd hoped to have some privacy with
her, but perhaps this was better. With her parents there, he
wouldn't have the opportunity to drag her to bed and peel her
clothes off one article at a time. Which was a good thing. At least
that's what he told himself.

You don't need to take her to bed
again
.
Just say your apology and get the hell out of
there.

His car purred into the driveway where he
turned it off and stepped outside. Before he reached the front
door, it opened and Rebecca stepped out.

Short-ass, frayed denim shorts, if one could
even call them shorts, barely covered all the essential parts. A
t-shirt which read,
If You Can Read This You're In Roundhouse
Kick Range
clung to her curves and the words were stretched
across her breasts.

The shirt brought a smile to his lips.
Rebecca might be the collected, professional pediatrician but she
had a kickass sense of humor that always made him laugh.

She came to a stop in front of him. "I heard
your car," she greeted.

He glanced at the house and wondered why she
could come outside and not wait for him to come to the door.

She gestured behind her. "My parents are in
there, and my mother will make you eat and talk your ear off. Plus
it's just better if we're out here anyway."

"Because you don't want me inside your
house?" Where he could survey the lay of the land and one day drag
her off to her bed? Or was it just the thought of him being inside
her home that made her uncomfortable?

"I wouldn't go that far. But it is better if
we're not near a bedroom."

He raised a brow at her comment. "What do you
think I'll do to you with your parents here?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Nothing
you haven't done before."

A slow smile curled along his lips. "Touché.
But don't pretend like you didn't love it."

The pulse at the base of her throat
fluttered, bringing satisfaction where stress had once occupied.
She stared back at him and didn't reply to his comment. Because she
knew she didn't have a leg to stand on. He may have climbed through
her window, but her enthusiasm had matched his.

She cleared her throat. "Did you come here
torture me?"

His smile grew. "No." He flicked the end of
her nose. "That's just an added bonus."

She blinked at him for a second, then rolled
her eyes and turned back toward the house. That spectacular ass of
hers, which was barely covered in those shorts, just about brought
him to his knees. When he realized she meant to leave him standing
outside, he bolted after her.

"Rebecca, wait," he said with a laugh. "I'm
sorry. I didn't mean that."

She stopped directly in front of the door,
where the porch light could pick up the brilliant red in her hair.
The curls were piled on top of her head, with a few wispy tendrils
teasing her neck. It took all his restraint to keep his hands to
himself and not brush the hair away so he could replace them with
his mouth.

"Yes, you did," she accused. "You never say
anything you don't mean."

She's got your number, asshole
.

He exhaled a defeated breath. Why did he
bother pretending around her? "Okay, you're right. I did mean it.
But I shouldn't have said it. You're just so damn cute when you get
mad, that I couldn't help myself."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?"

He opened his mouth to answer the question,
when he noticed the flush in her cheeks and the firm set of her
mouth. Only one thing could get Rebecca tense like that. Actually
two things, if he were to count himself.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you
mean?"

"Something's bothering you." He lifted a hand
and rubbed the spot in between her eyes with his thumb. "You get
tense right here." He allowed his hand to linger longer than
necessary, which was a mistake. Her skin was velvety and her warm
breath tickled his hand.

She moved back from him and rubbed the spot
where he'd touched her. "My parents are driving me crazy. They got
hit by termites, and now they have to bunk here for who knows how
long. Plus I've had a stressful few days at work."

"Speaking of work, I came to apologize." When
she raised both her eyebrows in confusion he added, "For barking at
you on Friday."

"You mean that text message wasn't a
heartfelt apology?" she asked around a smile.

He found himself grinning back. "No, it was.
But I still felt guilty."

"It's all right. And I'm sorry for telling
you to go to hell."

"No you're not. You enjoyed that."