Nothing But Trouble (21 page)

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Rebecca lay back on the pillows and stared at
the dark ceiling. Her whole body felt like Jell-O and weightless,
as though she was floating a foot above the bed. She knew R.J. was
good in bed. Nine years ago had been phenomenal. So much so that
every other man she'd been with hadn't measured up.

But this… This had been something entirely
different. The lovemaking had been deep and intense and the force
of her orgasm had shocked her. She felt as though she'd entered
into another realm, one which she was unfamiliar. One which she
felt she couldn't return from unscathed.

There'd definitely be no returning from this.
If making love with R.J. nine years ago had rocked her world, then
this would leave her a changed woman. A woman who'd given her heart
away and most likely wouldn't be getting it back. Or receiving one
in return.

Of course, she'd gone in with her eyes wide
open. She'd known what she'd been doing when coming here earlier. A
part of her had hoped they'd end up right where she was. And that
part of her wasn't sorry at all, nor was there any regret.

R.J. had the ability to bring her
unbelievable pleasure, and that's exactly what she'd needed. She
couldn't remember the last time she'd had a release this
satisfying, and it had momentarily erased the day's stress.

Unfortunately her heart had been a casualty.
Then again, Rebecca supposed she'd never really stopped loving R.J.
How could she? When that kind of unrequited love was involved,
there was no recovering from it. The only thing that surprised her
was that she hadn't figured it out a long time ago.

Or maybe she hadn't wanted to.

All those years of telling herself R.J.
Devlin meant nothing to her, and she started to believe her own
lies.

The shower in the bathroom turned off. She
heard the glass doors open, then close. The image of him naked,
with water running down that gloriously hard body of his, invaded
her peaceful reflective time. The urge to leave the bed and press
her own nude body against his was almost too strong. That would be
a mistake. She'd be unable to resist those scorching looks he
always gave her and they'd end up having sex again.

No. No more sex.

She needed her mind clear in order to sort
through the mess of her life.

The clock on the dresser next to the bed read
eight-thirty. Not nearly early enough to go to bed, and she wasn't
tired anyway. She leaned over to the nightstand and clicked on the
lamp, which was next to the T.V. remote. The wall-mounted
television had to be at least sixty inches and probably had a
killer picture. Rebecca leaned against the headboard, pulled the
sheet up over her breasts and turned the T.V. on.

Lame nighttime dramas and reality shows. All
garbage.

Where was a good movie when she needed
one?

R.J. came out of the bathroom, followed by a
thick cloud of steam. A single drop of water ran down the middle of
his sculpted chest, in between the ridges of his six pack and was
absorbed by the towel secured around his waist. Though it looked
like one single tug and the thing would come right off.

"Eyes above the waist lady or suffer the
consequences," R.J. commented with a lifted brow.

Okay, so she'd been caught ogling. What else
was new?

"I hardly think I'd be suffering."

He dropped the towel and faced her, feet
braced apart. The man was too big for his own good.

"Care to give that statement a test?" he
asked.

"No," she answered quickly and secured the
sheet tighter around her boobs. "There's nothing good on T.V. to
watch."

R.J. rooted around in the top drawer of his
dresser and pulled out a pair of black boxers. Disappointment
washed over her when he pulled the garment up and covered the
package she'd been trying not to stare at.

"Here." He picked up the remote, hit a few
buttons and dropped the thing on the bed.

Rebecca tossed him an annoyed look. "That's
sports."

"And?"

"And it's boring."

He crossed his arms over his thick chest. "If
you're that bored, I could think of something else to do."

She turned her attention back to the T.V.
because just looking at him weakened her resolve not to get naked
with him again. Even though she was still naked.

"On second thought, it's not that
boring."

"That's what I thought," he muttered, then he
turned around and left the room.

Damn him. One minute she was swearing to
herself not to get tangled up with him, literally, again. All he
had to do was walk in the room with a towel and her own declaration
withered away. Why was he the one man who could strip away her
defenses like they were made of tissue?

Of all the men in town, why him?

Again she was deflecting her anger with
herself onto him. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just being
R.J. The man she loved. Flaws and all, cocky attitude and
everything else that came with him.

She would never stop loving him no matter how
hard he tried to push her away.

Some baseball game went into the sixth
inning. Rebecca didn't follow sports, never had really, and the
game held no interest for her. But she stared at the screen anyway
without really processing the information. There was nothing else
on, and R.J. would probably change it back anyway.

He strolled back into the room with a plate
in his hand. Some kind of shredded meat was piled on the entire
plate. The smell, something like BBQ, had her stomach rumbling and
reminded her of how long it had been since she'd eaten.

She scooted over on the bed to make room for
him. He set the plate down next to her and stretched out on his
side, leaning on his right elbow.

"What is that?" she asked him as he plopped a
piece of meat in his mouth.

"Pulled pork."

The stuff was slathered in sauce and smelled
divine. She picked a piece off the plate and studied it. "Where'd
you get it?"

He glanced at her and swallowed another bite.
"I made it. It's not poisonous, Rebecca," he said when she only
stared at the food.

"
You
made this?"

"Don't sound so impressed. You'll ruin my
confidence."

Nothing could ruin his confidence. She
dropped the shredded piece of meat in her mouth and chewed. It was
actually pretty delicious. Smoky, tender, and full of flavor.

"I just never pegged you for a cook," she
responded and reached for more food.

He swallowed a bite and licked his fingers.
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Dr. Underwood."

Apparently. "Such as?"

The look he gave her was so intense, she
thought he was going to tell her to back off. Or maybe remove the
bed sheet. She had no intention of doing either.

"I play the piano."

Huh?

Of all the things he could have said, that
was the last thing she expected. Maybe something like "I'm can ride
a bucking bronco," or "I'm an excellent shot with a rifle."

But playing the piano?

"Get out of here; you do not play the piano."
Because she could not imagine big, hard R.J. Devlin, who spent his
days ripping apart cars, running his fingers over ivory keys.

He crossed his legs at the ankles and picked
up some more pork. "You think I'm kidding?"

"Well, yeah."

The grin that broke across his face was
reminiscent of the ones he used to flash her when they were
teenagers. And it had the same effect too. Her toes curled and a
deep flush heated her face.

"I know I've had a habit of jerking you
around in the past, but I'm being serious."

Well, then. What was she supposed to say to
that?

"Do you have a piano here?"

"No." He plopped a huge piece of meat in his
mouth, then licked his fingers. "My mother has it."

What a shame. Seeing him play the piano would
be the ultimate catalyst. She could die a happy woman.

"Before Trent died, my mother used to force
all three of us to play. The only one who enjoyed it was Courtney.
When my mother realized her efforts were useless she gave up."

Rebecca chewed thoughtfully for a moment,
then swallowed. "And you still know how to play?"

He lifted one thick shoulder. "Some."

The sheet slipped a millimeter, so she tugged
it tighter. R.J. had been eyeing her breasts ever since he'd lain
down, and she didn't need that on his mind again.

Even though it probably already was.

"Do you ever practice?"

He tossed another piece of pork into his
mouth. Just the sight of his throat muscles working turned her on.
"Some," he said with a grin. "It really turns women on."

"You're just saying that to get a reaction
out of me." At least she hoped. Yeah, she was pretty sure.

"Never could get anything past you."

Didn't mean it wasn't true. R.J. had a poker
face like she'd never seen. But she tapped the slight feeling of
jealousy down, because she did
not
need to go there again.
The better part of her adult life was spent feeling jealous of
whatever woman he was with at the moment.

And there'd been a lot.

Hence the reason why she stayed away from
him.

They munched on pork for several minutes,
falling into a comfortable silence. The baseball game played in the
background and the one nightstand light cast a yellow but weak glow
around the room. R.J.'s length took up almost the whole bed. Seeing
him sprawled out, half naked reminded her of how much bigger and
harder than her he was. His thighs were chorded with muscle and
dusted with a soft layer of dark hair. The black boxers were form
fitting and really left nothing to the imagination. They cupped the
bulge between his thighs, showing off just how big he really
was.

His shoulders were thick and broad, his chest
smooth and sculpted.

Basically his body could have been carved
from marble. Or better yet, marble statues could have been carved
from his example. Either way he was perfection personified and
Rebecca's body always reacted to him. She hugged the sheet tighter
around her breasts to conceal the flush that bloomed across her
chest.

"So, tell me what happened today," he said
after they'd been silent for several minutes.

"What do you mean?" Her feigned innocence
wouldn't work, she knew. She'd never been able to lie to R.J.

He lifted a brow and held out a piece of meat
to her. Her attempt to snatch it from his fingers was unsuccessful.
He held it out of her grasp and clucked his tongue at her.

"Open up," he ordered.

"I can feed myself."

"I know, but what fun is that?" The pork in
his hand was inches from her mouth.

This was all just a little too intimate, a
little too comfortable.

You just had sex with him! What's more
intimate than that?

Strangely enough him feeding her felt so much
more intimate than making love. As though their relationship was
transitioning to something she wasn't comfortable with. Because, in
the end, she knew, R.J. would leave her. Because R.J. always
left.

"Rebecca," he growled. "If you don't open
your mouth, I'll be forced to punish you."

Admitting defeat, she opened her mouth just
wide enough to accept the food. R.J. placed it inside her mouth,
somehow managing to slip his index finger in between her lips. The
tip of his finger was blunt and tasted like all man.

Something she enjoyed way too much.

When she swallowed, he grabbed another chunk
of pork and held it to her lips. She obeyed and this time he used
the opportunity to swipe his thumb across her lower lip.

"Proud of yourself?" she chastised after
swallowing.

"You have no idea," he replied with a wicked
tilt of his lips. "Now tell me what happened today."

She scooted farther down the bed and laid her
head back on the pillow. "I told you, I don't know what you
mean."

"Rebecca," he said with a sigh. "I know you a
lot better than you think I do. Something bad happened today. Tell
me about it. I'm not letting you out of this bed until you do."

Even though talking about it was like rubbing
salt on the wound, she knew she had to get this out. And hadn't she
come here with the purpose of telling R.J. what had happened? Given
his relationship with Danielle, there might be something he could
do. What that was, she had no idea.

With a deep breath, she recounted her day,
explaining to him her meeting with Josh and Agent Reinhold. She
also included her suspicions about Danielle ratting her out about
the 'scrip she wrote for Lindsey. When she'd finished it felt as
though she'd relived the day all over again. The frustration,
confusion, and fear were back, clouding her mind and preventing her
of thinking about anything else.

"Why would Danielle rat you out?" he asked
after she finished her story. "Sounds to me like Josh was the one
doing the ratting."

"That doesn't make any sense. Josh doesn't
have anything against me."

R.J. placed the empty plate on the nightstand
and returned to his position. He propped himself up on his right
arm so that he was practically looming over her. His right bicep
looked huge next to her face.

"What would Danielle have against you?" he
countered.

She shot him a droll look. Men were so
clueless. Rebecca knew a jealous woman when she saw one.

Both his brows lowered over his green eyes.
"Are you talking about me?"

"Yes."

"What would Danielle have to be jealous
of?"

Something about his words rubbed her the
wrong way. Did he not think their relationship was enough to spark
the tiniest bit of jealousy in the other woman?

Rebecca sat up and leaned on her elbow. Her
curls, which she'd taken down, slid over her left shoulder. "I
don't know, R.J. You tell me."