Nothing But Trouble (3 page)

He came toward her with slow movements, and
she tried not to focus on those long, powerful legs. "I have to go
out anyway, and your practice is on my way."

She studied him for a moment. The brown
flecks in his green eyes were especially pronounced today. They
looked like specks of gold in contrast to the emerald irises. The
combination of his blond hair and green eyes had always made him
look like a good ol' boy. Or maybe the good ol' boy's evil
twin.

"You do not have to go out," she
countered.

"Always so technical," he said. "Humor me
anyway."

And with that, he placed a hand on her lower
back and ushered her out of the shop. Even through her blouse, the
heat of his hand warmed her skin. The heat travelled down her legs,
paying special attention to her loins, which had been painfully
neglected over the years. As though her body remembered his touch,
her nerves ignited with a fire they hadn't felt in nine years. Nine
long years of mundane love-making that could barely light a match.
One touch from R.J. and she remembered why no other man had
measured up.

They reached some kind of muscle car that was
in pristine condition. The flawless, shiny vehicle was white with a
thin black stripe going around the base of the car. The thing was
mean-looking and only had two doors, each probably weighing more
than she did. With no emblem visible, Rebecca had no clue what kind
of car this was. Nor was it the same one she'd seen R.J. driving a
few months ago.

"What happened to the Firebird?" she asked as
he unlocked her door and went around to his side.

"I sold it a few months ago and picked this
up for pennies," he answered as they both climbed in the car.

The leather seats were cool and in perfect
condition. They were shiny and the same color as coal.

"I fixed this up in my spare time."

"What kind of car is this?" she asked while
running her hands over the soft interior of the door.

"It's a '68 Chevelle." The engine was loud
and rumbly, just as a muscle car should sound. The vehicle vibrated
with power around them. R.J. slid a pair of dark sunglasses over
his eyes and glanced at her. "Want to drive it?" he asked with a
smile.

Her heart beat up to her throat when he
grinned at her like that. That smile always meant trouble, and it
was usually something Rebecca wasn't prepared for. One of his many
talents was catching her off-guard. But that wasn't entirely his
fault. The fault lay with her for being too unaware for whatever
devious plan he had for her.

"I think I'll stick with modern cars."

His big hands shifted the gear as they pulled
onto the road. "You should step outside your comfort zone every
once in a while."

Thanks, but I did that once
already
.

She'd been left without her virginity, and
loving a man she knew she'd never have.

R.J. was convinced
that Rebecca Underwood was placed on this planet to drive him out
of his mind. Long legs, high heels, and a sassy attitude were all
the key ingredients for an irresistible woman. And he would know
all about irresistible.

He'd spent the better part of fifteen years
trying to resist her and the weird spell she had over him.
Ninety-nine percent of the time he'd succeeded. Unfortunately that
one percent was what had kept him up a lot of nights and drove him
into the arms of other women. Women like his office manager,
Danielle.

Danielle wasn't an easy woman to deal with,
and Rebecca had handled her like a champ. Even though R.J. had seen
right through that calm exterior. The woman was quite a plotter,
which he'd been victim to many times in his youth.

They cruised down the almost deserted road in
silence. His passenger had her legs and arms crossed like she
expected him to jump over there and all but molest her. What kind
of guy did she think he was?

Okay, maybe Rebecca wasn't the best person to
answer that question. He'd left a bad taste in her mouth, and he
didn't blame her for how little she thought of him.

Her loose, red curls looked especially soft
and picked up the sunshine like little red magnets. He knew she
hated those curls, and one time, about ten years ago, she'd tried
to have her hair relaxed. Seeing as though she'd never gone
straight again, she hadn't been pleased with the result.
Personally, he always thought curls were sexy as hell. But
Rebecca's curls went beyond sexy.

"I'm sorry for Danielle's behavior," he found
himself saying, mostly because he couldn't stand her icy silence.
"She can be a bit territorial."

Rebecca glanced at him, but her expressive
eyes were hidden behind those damn sunglasses. "Over you?"

The woman really didn't miss anything. They
came to a red light, even though there was no one in the
intersection. The pause gave him an opportunity to place his
attention on her. "I was going to say the shop. But yeah, me
too."

She tilted her head, as though trying to
figure out why without making him say it. "And why would she do
that?"

He grinned in spite of himself, because
Rebecca was smarter than that. "Because we used to sleep
together."

The only reaction she showed was her teeth
gnawing on her full lower lip. Then she did something he didn't
expect. She laughed, and it carried on until she had to wipe
moisture away from her eyes. Somewhere in the midst of her laugher
she muttered something. He couldn't make the words out, but he
swore he heard "stupid."

The light turned green and he shifted gears
to press on down the road. "You disapprove?"

She held her hand up as though to silence
him. "What you do with your employees is your prerogative,
R.J."

"Don't look now, but you're actually turning
green," he teased and skimmed the back of his index finger down her
cheek. So damn soft. "It's a good look for you."

She smacked his hand away and actually
scooted closer to the door. She was good and pissed now. Excellent.
This
Rebecca he knew how to handle.

"Why the hell would I be jealous?" she asked
in a sharp voice.

He pulled into the parking lot of her
practice and stopped in front of the building. Just as she opened
the car door, he said to her, "Because you know what you're missing
out on."

If it were humanly possible, there would be
actual steam coming out of her ears. As it was, the rosy hue
coloring her cheeks gave him enough satisfaction.

"You know, on the outside you look quite
normal. But on the inside you're the Angel of Death." The smile on
her face was dripping with ire, a look he put there so many times
he was unused to seeing anything else.

She slammed the door shut, but he wasn't
about to let her have the last word. He rolled down the window and
pulled up alongside her as she strode with angry steps.

"You're welcome for saving your feet from
those deadly weapons you're wearing." Without giving her a chance
to respond, because he just knew she would have something to say,
he sped out of the parking lot. He flipped a U-turn, shifted gears
and headed back to his shop. A glance in the rearview mirror showed
she'd already entered the building. But he was damn sure she'd
glared at him from behind those black sunglasses. How could he
expect anything less from her? Over the years, he'd learned to read
her body language and facial expressions. Lip biting meant nerves.
Lip biting coupled with laughter? That was a whole other extreme
beyond nerves. R.J. would label that as hysteria. Rebecca would
label it something different just to spite him.

She was annoyed as hell with him, but he
loved it. Anything else threw him off-guard because that was the
routine they'd fallen into about nine years ago. Actually, if one
wanted to be exact, it was eight years, four months, seven days and
however many hours. Not that he was counting. Or
still
thinking about it.

If he were a smart man, or didn't have a
death wish, he'd stay the hell away from her. While he couldn't
help her coming to his shop, because he was the best, as she'd
said, he could have let her walk to work. After all, she'd
insisted, and he wouldn't be driving the short distance back to
work cursing himself. Or suddenly needing a bucket of ice cold
water dumped over his head.

He
should
have let her walk. Because,
while he enjoyed getting her panties in a twist, he almost always
paid for it later. Usually by having to go home and take a freezing
shower. But all the cold water in the world couldn't get Rebecca
Underwood out of his head. And he slipped into the same old
patterns every single time. And Rebecca was smart. She was one of
the smartest people he knew. Not only did she have his number, but
she always saw through his bullshit. She was one of the few people
he knew who had that talent.

That's why he hadn't sugar-coated his
relationship with Danielle. Okay, getting involved with an employee
hadn't been the smartest thing. But R.J. hadn't always been very
smart when it came to his choice of women. In the past, he'd always
gotten involved with whatever female had shown interest. And
Danielle had more than shown her interest in him. Shortly after
hiring her, she'd cornered him in his office and rubbed her hand
over his crotch. His body had instantly responded, and he'd taken
her right there on his desk.

He'd thought those days of indiscriminate,
anytime, anywhere sex had been behind him. His hormones had had
other ideas. For the next year, they'd jump into bed together every
once in a while, until R.J. had called it quits. The signs of
complications, a.k.a. Danielle developing feelings for him, had
started to surface. Suffice it to say, Danielle hadn't been pleased
and had all but begged him to give them another chance.

The truth was, he valued his work environment
too much to let things get too sour with his office manager. And,
to be honest, Danielle was the backbone of Devlin Motors. She did
everything from the bookkeeping to face-to-face time with the
clients. Her outgoing personality and personable ways with them
made her good at wooing even the pickiest clients. She knew the
business inside and out, almost as well as he did.

Damn, but she'd been dynamite in bed and had
always been up for a good round of sex whenever he needed it. But
he feared letting her go would have been detrimental to the shop.
So he'd kept her, but made sure she knew to keep things
professional.

He pulled into the back parking lot of the
shop and turned the car off. Danielle's behavior toward Rebecca had
toed the line of inappropriate. R.J. couldn't figure it out because
Rebecca hadn't done or said anything to elicit that reaction from
Danielle. And it's not like women hadn't come into the shop for
business before. He'd never had an issue with Danielle behaving in
such a way.

His guys were hard at work restoring a
Pontiac Lemans, a GTO, a Buick Skylark, and two Mustangs. Two had
only needed new engines and paint, but the others had to be
stripped down to the chassis. And all this wasn't including the
Camaro Rebecca had just dropped off. Luckily for him, his team was
damn good and efficient.

Rebecca said he could have free rein over her
father's car, which made him downright giddy. Sometimes a client
would ask for something a little unorthodox, and R.J. always felt
like he was committing an act of treason against the car. Ideas
were already swirling around in his head, but before he could get
started, his best client and biggest money maker rolled into the
parking lot. Charlie McGready parked his sweet little 1949
Oldsmobile coupe and stepped out. R.J. had restored that one for
Charlie about a year and a half ago, and it hadn't been easy. He
specialized in muscle cars, but every once in a while he'd get an
older classic that posed more of a challenge. The Oldsmobile had
taken him several months to bring back to glory, but it had been
worth it.

R.J. put his issue with Danielle on hold and
walked to greet his best client. Charlie was in his late forties,
medium height and had a limp in his left leg from an injury
sustained during the first Gulf war. He also had an unlimited
amount of cash flow for his cars. R.J. had decided the man must
have inherited from a wealthy relative. Not many people in this
town could afford a forty-seven-thousand dollar classic car, not to
mention the countless other cars he paid R.J. to fix up for the
annual car show in Reno.

"Charlie, how are you?" R.J. greeted with a
shake of the other man's hand. Charlie's grip was firm and
solid.

"Business as usual. She still drives like a
dream," Charlie said with a gesture to the Oldsmobile behind
him.

"I'm glad." R.J. was especially pleased,
considering what a challenge the car had been.

"I'm sure you know the Reno show is coming up
in a few months." When R.J. nodded, Charlie continued. "I found two
gems at an auction recently that I want to show. They aren't much
to look at now, and one of them is pretty beat up. But I think you
can work your magic on them."

R.J. crossed his arms over his chest. "What
kind of cars are we talking about?"

"A '35 Mercedes 500K and a '32 Packard
Deluxe. I know you don't normally deal with cars that old, but
after fixing up that old thing," he said with a wave of his hand
toward his car. "I figure you can do just about anything."

It was true, R.J. preferred cars from the
sixties and seventies because the older the car, the harder it was
to find parts for them. But he'd never backed down from a challenge
before, and he'd done enough pre-war era cars to take the project
on.

"All right, why don't you bring them in when
you can and I'll take a look at them. When's the show this
year?"

"I'm doing the Silver Dollar Car Show in
August. They welcome any make and model."