Nothing But Trouble (17 page)

Nothing, that's what. That's why he'd gone to
the other bed. Eliminate the temptation altogether.

He lifted one shoulder, as if to shrug the
matter off. "It was no big deal. And my bed is the most
comfortable."

"I'll say," she said on a breathy sigh.

Good God, if she didn't stop that he'd kiss
her. Then she'd walk away asking for a cigarette.

"What kind of mattress is that?" she wanted
to know.

"The expensive kind."

She leaned back against the counter and
hugged the cup of coffee to her chest. "That thing is so heavenly;
I don't know how you get out of bed in the mornings." She took a
sip of her drink, then lowered the mug. "I bet women love it."

He lifted his brows at her comment, but
didn't say anything. Not because he was offended. Things like that
didn't bother him. But because of her honesty.

Her eyelids dropped closed, and she expelled
a defeated sigh. "That was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

Women did love it, but R.J. didn't tell her
that. No need to twist the knife.

"Do you want a shower or anything?" he asked
her. Just because the thought of her naked, in his shower with the
water cascading down that beautiful body of hers, was too much of a
temptation.

"No," she replied quickly.

A little too quickly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, just because he
enjoyed pushing her. "It's really big. I have two shower heads and
they both massage."

To pink slashes stained her cheeks. One of
his favorite things in the world was to make her blush, because it
was so easy to do. She'd get all flustered, then get mad at herself
for reacting so easily. Then she'd take her frustration out on him,
and that's when the fun really started.

One time he'd gotten her so riled up, that
she'd dumped a bottle of ice cold water on his pants. In public. So
he'd had to walk around looking like he'd pissed himself.

"I'm positive," she finally said. He watched
in amazement as she gulped the rest of her coffee in one final
swallow. She set the cup on the counter with a loud clack. "I know
what you're trying to do, and it won't work."

When she moved away from him, he stopped her
with a hand on her arm. "Actually, I think it did." His thumbed
caressed the base of her throat where her pulse beat at a rapid
pace. He knew he was the only one who would get such a reaction out
of her, even though she'd say otherwise. Mostly because she
wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction.

She jerked away from his hold and stepped
back from him. "I don't know why I thought you could actually be
nice for a change."

"I'm a very nice guy," he countered. But what
was the fun in that? Nice was boring.
Nice
didn't make her
blush.

"You must save that side of yourself for
really special people."

With those words hanging between them, she
left the kitchen and the opening and closing of the door followed a
few seconds later. He glanced out of the window above the sink in
time to see her backing out of the driveway and speeding away.

Good. If she knew what was good for her,
she'd stay away from him. He felt like the biggest bastard in the
world putting that look of hurt and confusion on her face. But it
was necessary to keep her in check.

This was why they couldn't be alone together.
Rebecca was dangerous. He'd stepped outside of his comfort zone
last night and they'd toed that same sexual line they'd crossed
nine years ago.

R.J. had never regretted having sex with her.
The climb up her mother's rickety rose trellis had been worth it.
He'd take his own life in his hands and had risked getting his bare
ass shot off by her father's twelve gauge. Since then, he'd yet to
experience a night like that. So, no. He didn't regret it. Her
tight body and desperate moans had been a sweet memory he'd carried
with him since then.

After Rebecca had flown out of his house like
the place had been stuck by lightning, R.J. had finally grabbed a
shower. Only, he'd made sure it had been nice and cold. Which had
helped momentarily, until his traitorous brain and turned its
thoughts back to the woman who had his guts turned in knots. His
thoughts trailed from the look of fury on her otherwise delicate
features, to her in the shower with him. Wet skin. Slicked back
hair. Soapy hands gliding over the taut muscles of his flat
belly.

Yeah, maybe a shower had been a bad idea.
Stinking to high heaven would have been preferable to the images
he'd suffered through while rinsing shampoo from his hair. Because
he was predictable sap who couldn't keep his priorities in
line.

Whatever. She was pissed at him, and just as
well. That meant she'd stay away for a few days, and R.J. could use
the break in order to rein in his sanity.

Later he left the house to grab some lunch
from The Golden Glove on the way to his shop. While in the car, he
single handedly dialed Danielle's number, while keeping one hand
draped over the steering wheel. Why he thought she'd answer for
him, he had no clue. And why he should care how she was doing,
after she'd royally screwed him over, was another question he
couldn't answer.

But despite what some people thought of him,
R.J. did have a soft side, especially when it came to women.
Danielle might have a problem, and she might have put him in a
major bind, but he still cared about her. Something inside him kept
nagging to make sure she was okay.

Just as he expected, she didn't answer. He
left a brief message asking her to call him back if she felt up to
it. After hanging up, he swung his car into the parking lot of his
brother's restaurant. He was later getting to work, something he
never did, but his morning with Rebecca had been oddly worth it.
Even if their encounter resulted in her sticking another needle in
her proverbial voodoo doll of him.

She probably had that thing so riddled with
holes, it was likely falling apart.

He entered the restaurant, prepared to have a
bacon cheeseburger and fries ordered to go. Behind the bar was Joel
Garrison, the quiet, ex-military, rough-around-the-edges man Brody
had hired to replace Anthony, the other ex-military guy who'd moved
from bartender to chef.

At first, R.J. had been wary of Joel, mostly
because Joel was one of those people who kept his feelings, or
everything really, close to the vest. That had immediately made
R.J. suspicious. But after getting to know him a bit better, R.J.
realized Joel was just one of those guys who got his point across
in as few words as possible. He was a private guy and R.J. could
only respect that.

"A bit early for slinging drinks, isn't it?"
R.J. commented as he approached the bar.

One side of Joel's mouth kicked up. "My work
is my life." He jerked his chin in R.J.'s direction. "What brings
you by?"

"I need a bacon cheeseburger and fries to
go."

Joel tossed the towel down he'd been holding.
"You got it." The guy disappeared behind the kitchen doors for a
moment, then reappeared. His too-long hair just barely brushed the
neckline of his black shirt, which was just a shade darker than his
hair. And his eyes. The edges of an equally black tattoo peeked
just beyond the hem of the shirt sleeves, giving Joel that
rough-around-the-edges feel many people had come to associate with
him.

"About fifteen minutes," Joel commented,
cutting right to the point.

In the meantime, R.J. perched on a stool,
prepared to wait for his food, knowing it would be worth the
fifteen minutes. "You still thinking about opening your own place?"
R.J. asked, remembering when the other guy had mentioned running
his own bar.

"Hell, yeah," Joel answered. "I've never been
that guy to work for someone else, know what I mean?"

Yeah, R.J. got that. And if anyone was suited
to run a bar, it was Joel Garrison. The guy had
hard-ass
written all over him.

"Have you said anything to Brody yet?" R.J.
wanted to know, seeing as though Brody, R.J's step-brother and the
man who ran the restaurant, had a difficult time keeping the
bartender position filled for more than a year or two. People
seemed to come and go like they were spinning through a revolving
door.

Joel tossed him a quick glance while he
refilled glasses. "Of course. I wouldn't leave your brother hanging
like that."

Because underneath that hard-as-nails
exterior was a good guy. R.J. had sensed that just as he'd sensed
Joel's checkered past, probably filled with some kind of tragedy.
People like Joel didn't become reserved and wary of their
surroundings because they had a picture-perfect Norman Rockwell
childhood.

The two men chattered for a bit longer before
Anthony came out of the kitchen with a plastic sack filled holding
a to-go container. He passed the food over, which R.J. took while
reaching for his wallet.

Anthony waived a hand in the air. "It's on
the house, bro," the big man announced.

R.J. shook the chef's burly hand. "Thanks,
man." He turned to Joel and gave the man a hearty fist pump. "Check
ya later." Then he was out the door, sliding his sunglasses on to
shield from the bright overhead sun.

As he made his way to his car, he happened to
glance down the street where Rebecca's practice was. And just like
that, he was thinking about her again. Because all it took was a
simple glance in her general direction and his mind was all over
her like a kid on sugar.

He'd had a lot of sex over the years with a
lot of different women. No matter how fantastic some of it had
been, none of the women had quite measured up to Rebecca. They'd
been nothing more than passing conquests who'd given him the
release he'd needed. Rebecca was better than that. He had a
tremendous amount of respect for her. Too much for him to bang and
run. Even though that's basically what he'd done.

Despite that, he'd been willing to tarnish
her own image of him so she could go and find happiness with
someone who could give it to her.

But if she didn't stay away from him, he'd
give her what she was all but begging for.

Monday and Tuesday
had been frighteningly uneventful days, which really irritated
Rebecca because it gave her time to think about R.J. and how they'd
parted ways on Saturday. How stupid of her to think they could have
a normal conversation that didn't end with some kind of
altercation. With him looking at her the way he always did and
making some kind of smarmy comment. Why couldn't he just be nice?
Why couldn't he say something like, "Hey Rebecca, how's it
going?"

But really, why was she mad at him? He was
only being R.J. The person she was furious with was herself. Why
did she always have to react like that? Why couldn't she be cool as
a cucumber and let his comments roll off her back? The man had a
way of bringing her ugly side out, and she let him do it every
single time.

Even on Wednesday morning, she was still
irked about their encounter. Until her cell phone vibrated and she
glanced at the screen.

I just bought a five pound bag of sugar. See
what you do to me?

Despite his evil ways, R.J. could always make
her smile. She'd never been able to stay mad at him for long.

She leaned back in her desk chair and
answered his text message.

So bake yourself some cookies and
smile
.

A second later her phone vibrated.

Only if you come eat them with me. Or,
better yet, off you
.

She ignored that last line because she knew
why he'd said that. She refused to react. Her next patient was due
soon, so Rebecca pocketed her cell phone and decided not to respond
to his message at all.

Five hours later, she'd felt like she'd
already put in a full day's work. Back to back patients had made
the time fly, and she was grateful to have her mind taken off R.J.
for the first time in weeks.

They'd just locked their doors for lunch when
her cell phone rang. Rebecca glanced at the screen, but didn't
recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Rebecca, it's Josh. I was wondering if you
could spare some time and meet me for lunch."

She sat straighter in her office chair and
tried not to sound too eager. "Of course. We just closed for lunch
so I could give you about an hour." Had he changed his mind after
telling her he couldn't help? But why would he do that, knowing he
could get in trouble too?

"That should be more than enough time. You
know the deli that just opened on Beach Street?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"Meet me there so we can talk."

The line disconnected and Rebecca set her
phone down. Something wasn't right with this. It hadn't been that
much time since she'd spoken to Josh, and his voice sounded funny.
As though he knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say. But
what choice did she have? Things at the practice had been pretty
normal, almost like she'd imagined the entire thing with Dr. Gross.
And yet, she knew it wasn't over, just as she knew Josh didn't have
good news for her.

With a sick feeling in the pit of her
stomach, Rebecca gathered her things and left the practice.
Everyone had already left for lunch, so she made sure to lock the
door behind her.

It took her no time at all to reach the deli.
She'd eaten there only one time before and absolutely loved their
chicken salad sandwich. Josh was already there, seated at a table
along the wall. Next to him was a middle-aged man with dark hair
and silver streaks at his temples. A dark jacket sat over narrow
shoulders, and was accented with a black tie and white shirt. The
bored expression on his face told Rebecca he'd rather be anywhere
but a deli in Trouble, Wyoming. The sick feeling in her stomach
didn't lessen. She had a feeling this guy wasn't a friend of Josh's
who decided to join them for lunch. Given the nature of their
business, she doubted Josh would invite an outsider to join
them.