Nothing But Trouble (16 page)

"Give me those."

She swallowed a gasp when he grabbed the foot
she'd been working on and placed it in his lap. Her heel rested on
his right thigh, which was just as hard and big as she remembered.
When he shifted, her foot came dangerously close to brushing up
against that magnificent muscle of his. She leaned against the arm
rest and forced herself to relax. Her other leg was tucked
awkwardly beneath her, but she couldn't bring herself to sprawl
both her legs across his lap. One leg was enough contact, thank you
very much.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and
Rebecca studied R.J.'s profile while he dug his thumb into her
arches. An all day's worth of beard growth coated his strong,
square jaw. His mouth was set in a firm line as he focused his
attention on her foot. Looking at his mouth made her think of the
other night, when he'd kissed her and they'd come dangerously close
to taking things too far. On her front porch. When had she become
so inhibited?

But what had surprised her was how much she'd
wanted it. She'd welcome the contact with him with open arms. Then
she'd done the cowardly thing by getting mad at him. She hated
herself for always reacting to him, and she'd needed someone to
take it out on. In the heat of the moment, she'd felt better. But
afterward she'd felt like a parasite for putting all the blame on
him. She'd been just as enthusiastic, but had been unable to admit
how much she'd really wanted it. Or enjoyed it.

"I owe you an apology for the other night,"
she found herself saying. Begging R.J.'s forgiveness had never been
an easy thing. It was a pride swallowing siege that always gave him
way too much satisfaction. However, guilt had eaten away at her for
the way she'd left things between them. No matter how tumultuous
their relationship could get, Rebecca still strived for an amiable
friendship with him.

He slanted her a look out of the corner of
his eye, and rubbed the tips of his fingers over her toes. "What
ever for?"

Was that a grin she saw? She resisted
narrowing her eyes at him. Barely. "For talking to you the way I
did." She sucked in a breath. "It was wrong of me to make you feel
like it was all your fault."

"You mean it wasn't?" His words were accented
by a smirk, followed by digging his thumb extra hard into her
calf.

She squirmed as much from the contact as she
did from his feigned ignorance. The smile she plastered on her face
was tight-lipped and forced. "You know it wasn't."

"Wow. And you were so convincing."

"Keep going and I'll dig my heel in so hard,
you'll be talking like girl for the rest of your life."

The comment earned her a laugh, a hearty and
deep one that sent a shiver running down her spine. Ironically, she
smiled back and her earlier annoyance melted away. R.J.'s laughter
had always been infectious and sensual at the same time. Sort of
like an intimate whisper in her ear.

"No matter how well I think I know you,
Rebecca, you always manage to surprise me," he said with a
grin.

She leaned against the arm of the couch and
rested her head on the back cushion. His hands felt sinful, yet
magical on her feet. Every once in a while, he'd creep his touch up
to her leg, and dig his fingers into the soft skin on the underside
of her knee. It took almost all her will power to keep her from
snatching her leg away and curling into a ball. His touch had
always had a strange effect on her. At the same time, it was one
she'd always welcomed because she knew only he could make her feel
this way.

The languid movements of his hands made her
limbs feel heavy and relaxed. The muscles in her legs and feet
hadn't felt this loose in a long time, especially given how many
hours she spent standing up. After a few moments, R.J. finished his
work on her first foot. He set that one aside and grabbed her other
leg.

"Thank you," she muttered in a sleepy
voice.

"For what?" he asked without looking at
her.

"For rubbing my feet. For listening." She
took a deep breath and swallowed past the lump in her throat. No
one confused her like R.J. One minute she despised him, and the
next he was unbearably sweet. "For a million other things," she
added.

He glanced at her with a somber expression.
"You're the only woman I would do this for."

She couldn't stop the soft groan from flowing
out of her when he worked his magic on the arch of her left foot.
She hadn't realized how tense she was until she'd been forced to
relax. After a moment, her eyes drifted shut and the last thing she
remembered was R.J. telling her to have sweet dreams.

Steam curled out
of
the cup of R.J.'s black brew as he stood next to his bed and
watched Rebecca sleep. She was one of those people who hugged the
edge of the mattress and left the rest of the bed un-rumpled. It
amused him, because he was the opposite. In the mornings, he left
his bed looking like it had been hit by a hand grenade. He usually
slept spread eagle and almost always kicked the sheets to the
floor.

The condition of the bed this morning only
reminded R.J. of how different he and Rebecca were. She was gentle
where he was hard.

Rebecca was selfless and spent her days
taking care of other people. For years, R.J. had only thought about
his own happiness.

But that didn't mean he didn't like to watch
her sleep. Gazing at her in slumber was like watching a child; an
innocent little girl who dreamt of things like unicorns.

Last night, he hadn't thought of anything
other than taking care of her. When had he ever gotten that
urge?

Never.

He hadn't been shocked when she'd fallen
asleep on the couch. The fatigue in her eyes had told R.J. she'd be
a goner within seconds. As her eyes had drifted shut, he'd kept
rubbing her feet until sure she was completely out. Then, he'd
lifted her from the couch and, like a foolish dumbass, had bypassed
the guest room and placed her in his bed. For years he'd imagined
her there, seeing her bright red hair fanned out over his pillow.
He'd selfishly played out his own fantasy by tucking her under the
sheets and removing her clothes as carefully as possible. Any dirt
bag would have taken advantage of the situation by ogling an
unsuspecting woman. That wasn't to say he hadn't savored the sight
of her creamy skin. However, he'd known that last night wasn't the
night to engage in a little mattress dancing. Even still, it had
taken all his will power not to slip her underwear over her hips,
place a kiss on her inner thigh and wake her up with a nice little
orgasm.

Instead he'd tucked her under the sheets and
turned from the bed with a raging hard on. The ice cold shower he'd
taken hadn't done a damn thing to ease the pounding in between his
legs. As a result, he hadn't slept for shit and was paying for it
now with a pounding headache. The coffee helped slightly, but he'd
need a lot more if he had any hope of getting through his Saturday
like a normally functioning human being.

So far he hadn't made a whole lot of
progress. Right now all he felt like doing was grumbling like a
bear.

He took another sip of the extra strong brew
just as Rebecca stirred beneath the sheets. She turned over,
exposing a slim back and teeny-tiny pale blue underwear which were
molded her over delectable little ass.

The bastard between his thighs reacted
instantly, pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He
adjusted himself accordingly and left the bedroom. It was clear she
wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, and she needed her sleep. She
worked too hard, and now had the stress of possibly losing her
medical license.

R.J. didn't know Patrick Gross very well, but
the man had a sterling reputation. He'd been Trouble's pediatrician
for as long as R.J. could remember. He was well trusted and highly
respected. But that didn't mean he was a stand-up guy, just a good
doctor. He had no clue if Dr. Gross really was engaging in illegal
activities, but Rebecca seemed certain he was. For that alone, R.J.
wanted to bust his perfect pearly white teeth through his
skull.

Even though it was none of his business, and
R.J. didn't know shit about anything involving a medical practice,
he felt the need to help her some way. But how? He couldn't very
well pound on Dr. Gross's front door and ask him if he was handing
out illegal prescriptions. Maybe he could pay Danielle a visit.
That is, if she wasn't still too pissed at him.

How could she not be? You fired her.

Knowing Danielle, she'd cut his brake lines
and smile while he wrapped himself around a telephone pole.

On the other hand, she could have answers for
him. If he approached it carefully enough she might be able to tell
him something.

He tossed back the last of his coffee and
immediately poured another cup. The house was quiet save for the
hum of the dishwasher, which was still pretty quiet. Rebecca would
likely sleep for a while longer, so he used the opportunity to get
in a good workout. He finished his second cup of coffee and headed
upstairs. Once there, he stripped off his shirt, pulled on a pair
of sneakers and fired up the treadmill.

The soles of his shoes pounded on the rubber
of the exercise equipment for the better part of forty-five
minutes. After that, he moved to free weights, and pumped iron for
another thirty. A good workout always helped clear his head and
gave him a sense of accomplishment. It also chased away any
lingering feelings of fatigue. When he left his workout room, it
was with a rapid beating heart and a thick coat of sweat from head
to foot.

He jogged down the stairs, ready to hit the
shower. But first, he made a detour to the kitchen for a bottle of
water. When he came to the archway leading into the room, he
spotted Rebecca, opening cabinets, clearly looking for something.
She hadn't heard him and he used the opportunity of her ignorance
to watch her. Man, she was something else.

She'd changed her clothes. Where she'd gotten
them, he had no clue. Unless she happen to have a change of clothes
in her car, which she must have retrieved while he'd been upstairs.
The outfit was nothing more than a tank top with dental floss-sized
straps, and cotton shorts. When she stretched to a cabinet
overhead, the tank lifted above the waistband of her shorts,
exposing a creamy sliver of skin. The shorts were so damn short,
that he had the urge to back her into the counter so he could wrap
her long legs around his hips. She'd love it, just because he knew
her a lot better than she thought he did.

His heart kicked up as memories from the
other night on her front porch slammed into him. Her passionate
kisses. Her hands all over him, trying to eat him up. The noises
she made, encouraging him to do more, to take it all the way. Damn,
she had him tied up in knots. But that had always been the way with
Rebecca. Every time he allowed himself around her, she got inside
his head and scrambled up his thoughts. He didn't feel like
himself. He felt unsure about everything, which he hated.

From across the room she sighed and opened
another cabinet. He leaned against the doorway and grinned. She may
mess with his head, but she was so damn cute when she got fired up.
As if sensing his presence, she whipped around and caught him
staring.

"I was just looking for a mug. Someone's
going to get hurt if I don't get some coffee."

He chuckled and pushed away from the door.
"The cabinet to the left of the sink."

She snagged a mug and poured the coffee in
practically one move. Desperate, much?

"Do you have any cream?" she asked as she
placed the carafe back in the machine.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do I look
like, a woman?"

"Do you at least have any sugar?"

Without saying a word, he reached into a
drawer and tossed out a couple of sugar packets onto the
counter.

She eyed them like they were maggots. She
licked her lips and picked one of the packets up. "This looks like
you hijacked these out of a restaurant."

"Maybe I did." He slanted her a look as he
took a bottle of water from the fridge, then took a long gulp.

"Don't you have, like, regular sugar?"

He lowered the bottle and leaned against the
counter. "Why would I need regular sugar?"

"Everyone needs regular sugar." She tore open
one of the pink packets and dumped it into her coffee. She opened
three more, then stirred the drink.

"Only people who bake. I don't bake."

She took a sip of her coffee. "That's a
shock." Her eyes darted down to his chest, which sported left over
sweat from his workout.

He hadn't bothered wiping it off because he'd
planned on showering anyway. Didn't women love sweaty men, or some
shit like that? She'd tortured him enough last night and this
morning. Hell, he'd stood under ice cold spray for damn near twenty
minutes, trying to wash her away.

Payback was a bitch, baby.

Her chest expanded when she took in a breath.
Eventually, she lifted her gaze back to his. "So, what happened
last night? I mean, obviously you carried me, but why didn't you
just wake me up? I would have gone home."

Because I wanted to see you in my bed.

Yeah, say that to her and see what
happens.

"You were out, and in no condition to drive
home. I could tell you needed a good night's sleep."

She rubbed the back of her neck, then cradled
the mug in her hands. "Yeah, I think everything kind of caught up
with me. I didn't mean to fall asleep like that, and I certainly
didn't mean to kick you out of your bed."

For one brief and wicked moment, R.J. had
considered crawling into the bed next to her. It was a king-sized
bed and he could have easily stayed on the other side without ever
touching her. But that had always been the problem with Rebecca. He
didn't trust himself around her. She weakened his resolve, and even
in sleep, she would have tempted him. What would have stopped him
from getting them both naked? Or, even curling himself around her
just to feel that satiny skin?