Nothing But Trouble (12 page)

She shrugged. "I never said I didn't enjoy
it. I just said I was sorry."

"Apology accepted."

She nodded and he couldn't help but notice
how her gaze kept wandering to his mouth. "Is that all you wanted,
then?"

Honestly? He wanted a hell of a lot more than
a few
I'm sorrys.
"Actually no." He rubbed a hand over the
back of his neck. Why was this so hard for him to say? "I've been
doing some thinking, and I think there might be something to your
suspicions about Danielle."

Both her brows creased her forehead. "You
mean, like I'm right?"

Oh, she was going to twist the knife good and
deep. Didn't he deserve it though, for all the goading he'd done to
her?

"Yeah, I think you might be right. Even
though I don't want to think she'd do anything like that, your
explanation seems to be the only one that makes sense."

She exhaled a long breath. "I know it's hard
to admit someone you care about has a problem, but I know my
medications. I excelled in that particular course in school. And I
know the signs of an addiction when I see one. She shows all the
symptoms. But you spend more time with her than I do. Have you
noticed a significant change in her?"

He folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah. She
does look thinner and she's been complaining about not sleeping and
working longer hours. There are times when it seems like she has
this sudden burst of energy, and other times she can barely stand
on her feet. She's been really up and down recently."

"Look, I don't want to sound morbid or
anything, but people who are addicted to Adderall generally go
downhill really fast. It's a very easy drug to OD on. You might
think about talking to her, and try to get her in some kind of
program. Because before you know it, she'll be beyond help."

He thought about that for a moment. People
who had a problem usually didn't want to admit they had a problem.
Rock bottom needed to come before the admission. As far as he knew,
Danielle hadn't hit rock bottom. On the other hand, how could he
continue to allow her to run his business if she wasn't up to
par?

Then, a startling thought occurred to him.
"What about you?"

"What about me?" she wanted to know.

He lifted one shoulder. "Where did you get
your suspicions about her? Is Lindsey one of your patients?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I told you I can't
talk about patients I treat. I could get sued.

"So you can't tell me anything?"

She tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
"Only what I've already said. I can only warn you about the dangers
of an addiction to Adderall. You would have to find out for sure if
she's taking it."

"I think I already know that she is," he
answered.

One of her brows lifted in response.

R.J. blew out a heavy breath. "This morning I
went into the shop to get some work done and she was there. I found
her asleep at the desk with a bottle of Adderall prescribed to
Lindsey."

Rebecca took a step forward. "Did you
question her about it?"

"Hell yeah, I questioned her about it. At
first she denied it, then she said she only takes them every once
in a while and she doesn't have a problem."

"That's the first thing addicts always
say."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, so
what am I supposed to do now?"

"Get her to admit it, then get her help."

He gazed back at her for a moment, trying not
to react at the way she kept licking her lower lip. "And what about
you?"

She shook her head and opened her mouth to
speak.

"Yeah, I know you can't talk to me about it,"
he stated before she could say the words herself.

Damn, he wished there was something he could
do. Just seeing the helplessness on her face tore his guts up. He
supposed he could do his part by talking to Danielle. She'd always
opened up to him, usually in hopes they'd end up back in bed. It
was the least he could do, considering the position Rebecca was in,
even if he wasn't sure what position that was.

"I'll see what I can do about her," he
added.

The lamplight just beyond Rebecca's head
glanced off her cheek, casting it in a soft yellow glow. His will
power was crumbling at a rapid rate, and when she nibbled on her
lower lip, he wanted to drop to his knees and howl like a wild
animal. Her mouth was unpainted and so damn kissable that he
couldn't help but reach out and tease her lower lip with his thumb.
It was still moist from when she'd been gnawing on it.

He stepped closer to her and tunneled his
hand into her hair. The strands were thick and soft and blanketed
his fingers with her heat. Her round, pliant breast pressed against
his chest, and the memory of how they'd looked and felt from all
those years ago was just as vivid as though it had been
yesterday.

He shouldn't be doing this. Touching her and
being this close to her was a mistake. Yet, he couldn't stop
himself from lowering his mouth and brushing it over hers. She
inhaled a sharp breath, and tightened her hands on his forearms,
digging her sharp nails into his muscles. Oh, she wanted this even
if she told herself she didn't. He confused her and infuriated her.
That much he knew. A small, and sick, part of him thrived off the
havoc he wreaked on her senses. Then her mouth moved along his,
until her tongue darted out and tentatively touched his lips.

The contact was like lightning exploding
inside his head. If they weren't on a suburban street, he'd press
her against the wall, remove those shorts and glide into her. Damn
the world if they heard her scream.

The kiss deepened, both of them opening up
for the other. Their tongues slid along each other, swirling around
exploring heat. His hand on the back of her head tightened, holding
her closer to him, refusing to allow her to push him away. To his
satisfaction she didn't. Instead she inched her arms higher up his
until they rested on his shoulders. She sucked in a breath when he
plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth. Then she moaned and the
soft sound traveled through him, causing a rash of goosebumps to
coat the surface of his flesh. A squeak here, a groan there.

He pressed himself closer to her, and backed
her to the front door. Both of his hands went to her hips, then
wound around to her rear end, where he was able to cup the soft
mounds in his hands. They were just the right size for him to grip.
He gave a testing squeeze, and the action prompted a gasp from her.
She kissed him harder and tangled her hands in his hair.

And oh, yeah. This was what he'd wanted. No,
needed
. Until the very moment when her lips came into
contact with his, R.J. hadn't realized just how much he'd missed
touching her. Feeling her heart smack against his rib cage. Hearing
her breath whoosh in and out of her lungs. Knowing he was doing
that to her?

Heck, yeah, he needed this.

But before he could get to the really good
stuff, the stuff with the fireworks, Rebecca gave him a hard shove.
He'd been so preoccupied with… well,
her,
that the action
caught him off-guard. Enough that she was able to put some distance
between the two of them. They'd gone from kissing to parting so
damn fast that R.J. almost got a case of whiplash.

In the midst of his what-the-hell moment,
Rebecca made an attempt to smooth back her hair, which he'd messed
up with his hands. It was a good look for her, to have little curls
flying away. Knowing he could still muss her up that way gave him a
small amount of satisfaction, even though it felt like he had an
iron post in his pants.

She licked her lips and gripped the handle of
the front door. "You can't keep doing this to me," she whispered.
Then, without another word, she disappeared inside the house.

What about what she did to him?

The weatherman was
predicting a storm to pass through their part of Wyoming, with a
slight chance of grape-sized hail. Storms like that were pretty
normal and could often pop up and dissipate in various locations.
The dark clouds overhead matched R.J.'s mood as he left the house
early, the morning after The Kiss Heard Around The World. He was
pissed off, sleep-deprived and horny as hell. Agitation coursed
through his restless bones as he shifted gears in his car and
cruised toward his shop, lowering his foot harder on the gas pedal
with each mile he ate up.

His guys better steer clear of him today
because he was sporting for a fight. Unfortunately no one was there
yet, including Danielle, whom he wanted to growl at right then.

In order to work off his tension, he walked
down to the coffee shop and grabbed the blackest cup of coffee they
had and a breakfast burrito. He'd barely dodged the storm, and by
the time he returned, Alex and Sam had arrived and were hard at
work on Charlie's cars. The red message light glowed on his phone.
R.J. took a monstrous bite of the burrito and picked up the
receiver to check the message. His mood grew dangerously blacker
when the message turned out to be Danielle, informing him she'd
overslept, then woke up with a headache. She'd be in later, was all
she'd said.

Later his ass. He was so damn tempted to call
her back and tell her to not bother coming in at all. But the whole
thing with the order for Charlie's cars was something only she
could answer. So he held off.

As he finished the last of this breakfast,
R.J. picked up the phone and placed a call to his supplier. Even
though he'd yet to hear back from them, he took a chance someone
would be around this time of morning. The receptionist had to put
the manager on the phone in order to find out the information R.J.
needed. He paced back and forth like a caged animal while he waited
for the man to come back on the line. He snagged the cup of coffee
from the desk top, blew on the hot liquid then took a shallow sip.
The coffee was hotter than sin, but he didn't really give a damn.
The temperature closely matched the blood boiling in his veins.

"I don't have any orders from you dating back
for at least a year," the guy told R.J. after coming back on the
line.

He damn near crushed the paper cup in his
hand, so the hot drink could give him a third degree burn, not that
he would care. Thankfully his anger hadn't disabled his common
sense. He set the cup down and tightened his grip on the phone.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed into the mouth
piece.

"When did you say your deadline was?" The guy
was clearly trying to calm R.J. down, but it wasn't working.

He closed his eyes and tried pulling in a
calming breath. That didn't work either. "No later than the end of
July."

"And you've got two cars?"

R.J. stopped his pacing and leaned heavily
against his desk. "Yeah."

The other man didn't say anything for a
moment. "Well, you could put a rush on them, but it'll cost you
extra. And even with the rush you'll be pushing it real close."

"Yeah, no shit," he muttered. "How soon could
they get here if you rush them?"

"I won't be able to say for sure until I see
a parts list. But it sounds like you're going to have a lot.
Depending on how rare they are, two weeks at the earliest. Maybe
three."

Three effing weeks. He was so screwed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay,
I'll get the list off to you ASAP. Just see what you can do about
getting them here in two weeks. I don't care how much extra it
costs. The shop will cover it."

"All right, then."

They hung up and it was all R.J. could do not
through the damn phone against the wall. If Danielle had done her
job accordingly, they would have gotten the parts within the next
few days. Now it would be at least two weeks before he could start
rebuilding. He had designs and colors all picked out, and he
couldn't do a damn thing on them yet. Made him feel antsy as hell,
and he didn't like it.

What in the world had she been doing? R.J.
picked up the phone again and placed a call to Danielle. Not
surprisingly, she didn't answer. He didn't bother with a message
because he knew she'd be in sometime. Besides, the time would give
him a chance to calm his murderous temper down. He'd be damned if
he'd let Danielle and her addiction destroy what he'd built from
the ground up. He told himself if she messed up again she'd be
gone. No matter how valuable of an employee she was. He hated to
throw away a working relationship, but his business came first.

Until Danielle showed herself, there wasn't a
whole lot R.J. could do about the situation. So he buried himself
in good old-fashioned back-breaking labor. For the next three
hours, he tore apart Donald Underwood's car. Charlie may have been
the bigger client, but the deadline for Donald's car would hit
sooner. He needed to get the thing gutted so he could start the
rebuilding process.

The skies had opened up overhead, and a
decent thrashing of hail beat down on the shop's roof. It wasn't
anything R.J. hadn't experienced before, but the sharp sound of ice
hitting metal got on his nerves. After twenty minutes of mild
thunder, the hail turned to rain and the atmosphere outside was as
dark as evening. It was right around that time Danielle came in,
looking like a drowned rat with wet hair and a panicked expression
on her face. As though she sensed R.J. was just chomping at the bit
to ream her six ways from Sunday. He couldn't imagine why.

She disappeared into the office, came out a
second later and said something to Alex. After Alex's reply,
Danielle went back into the office. R.J. leaned against the front
bumper of Mr. Underwood's car and watched Danielle through the only
office window. She stood at the desk, shuffling through papers,
then went to the filing cabinet. She thumbed through some files for
a moment, then turned to the computer.