his jaw and stared
over her shoulder, as though thinking. "Okay. Do you know how he
wants the overall integrity of the car? What I mean is, does he
prefer to keep it classic, or would he care if I put in some modern
touches?"
Rebecca thought about that for a moment. None
of these things she'd thought to find out. Over the years, she'd
heard her father mention features that he wished he had in the car.
Things like better tires and a newer sound system. The small
details completely eluded her.
"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "But I
think mostly he would rather the car remain true to its original
form. But he does like conveniences. I know he would love to have a
modern sound system and a high tech engine. Other than that, I
would keep the car in its classic shape."
"And you're sure you don't want to keep the
manual transmission?" he asked.
Rebecca held her hands up. "I agree it
shouldn't be changed. But those are my mother's orders."
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded.
"Okay."
"Have you started on it yet?"
"I've got a few sketches over there. They're
all pretty rough."
Her heart rate kicked up in excitement. "Can
I see them?"
Without saying a word, R.J. straightened from
the desk, and circled around to the computer. A few drawings lay
haphazardly on top of other various papers. He gathered them up and
held them out to her.
She paid careful attention to not touch his
fingers. There were so long and thick; strong and masculine as a
man's should be. Unwanted memories of them floating over skin,
along her abdomen and down her hips flooded her. She remembered
with perfect clarity how his fingertips had bit into the soft flesh
of her hips as he'd held her in place.
Yes, it was best for her sanity if she didn't
touch him.
She tried to ignore how his gaze bore into
her, so she could focus on his drawings. They were quite good. No,
they were better than good. R.J. had a real talent for sketching.
In each drawing, the car looked just how she imagined her father's
car would look completely restored. Each one had a different
variation of orange, with a different color or width of Z
stripes.
"We usually use a computer program to come up
with a design. But sometimes drawing them out by hand helps me come
up with more ideas."
She glanced from one paper to the next.
"These are really good. The single black stripe is nice. But I
think I like the double white ones the best."
"Good, because that's the design I've decided
to go with. I just needed to know a few things from you before I
have Danielle order the parts."
The mention of Danielle made Rebecca remember
her odd behavior earlier that morning. Since Rebecca legally wasn't
allowed to talk about patients, she kept her thoughts to herself.
"Good." She handed the papers back to R.J. He took them and set
them down on the desk.
"Is that everything then?" she asked, because
she really needed to get away from him. His scent, which Rebecca
knew was Old Spice, was about to make her eyes roll back into her
head. The office space, while decent-sized, felt suffocating and
small. His big self filled every nook and cranny with his wide
shoulders and tall frame. Rebecca wasn't considered short. At 5'7",
she was typically considered above average height for a woman. But
next to R.J. she felt like a dwarf. She was pretty sure he hovered
around six-two or maybe six-three. Every time he stood near her,
she was reminded of how small and curvy and feminine she really
was.
"I think so," he answered. "Unless there's
something else you want."
Now that was a loaded question and one she
had no intention of answering. And he knew it, which was why he'd
asked.
She cleared her throat. "No, that's
everything."
He came around the desk and stopped directly
in front of her. For a moment, he didn't say anything, nor did he
move. He just stared down at her in the unnerving way of his. She
attempted to pull in a steadying breath because she feared that he
was actually going to kiss her. Which
over her shoulder, as though thinking. "Okay. Do you know how he
wants the overall integrity of the car? What I mean is, does he
prefer to keep it classic, or would he care if I put in some modern
touches?"
Rebecca thought about that for a moment. None
of these things she'd thought to find out. Over the years, she'd
heard her father mention features that he wished he had in the car.
Things like better tires and a newer sound system. The small
details completely eluded her.
"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "But I
think mostly he would rather the car remain true to its original
form. But he does like conveniences. I know he would love to have a
modern sound system and a high tech engine. Other than that, I
would keep the car in its classic shape."
"And you're sure you don't want to keep the
manual transmission?" he asked.
Rebecca held her hands up. "I agree it
shouldn't be changed. But those are my mother's orders."
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded.
"Okay."
"Have you started on it yet?"
"I've got a few sketches over there. They're
all pretty rough."
Her heart rate kicked up in excitement. "Can
I see them?"
Without saying a word, R.J. straightened from
the desk, and circled around to the computer. A few drawings lay
haphazardly on top of other various papers. He gathered them up and
held them out to her.
She paid careful attention to not touch his
fingers. There were so long and thick; strong and masculine as a
man's should be. Unwanted memories of them floating over skin,
along her abdomen and down her hips flooded her. She remembered
with perfect clarity how his fingertips had bit into the soft flesh
of her hips as he'd held her in place.
Yes, it was best for her sanity if she didn't
touch him.
She tried to ignore how his gaze bore into
her, so she could focus on his drawings. They were quite good. No,
they were better than good. R.J. had a real talent for sketching.
In each drawing, the car looked just how she imagined her father's
car would look completely restored. Each one had a different
variation of orange, with a different color or width of Z
stripes.
"We usually use a computer program to come up
with a design. But sometimes drawing them out by hand helps me come
up with more ideas."
She glanced from one paper to the next.
"These are really good. The single black stripe is nice. But I
think I like the double white ones the best."
"Good, because that's the design I've decided
to go with. I just needed to know a few things from you before I
have Danielle order the parts."
The mention of Danielle made Rebecca remember
her odd behavior earlier that morning. Since Rebecca legally wasn't
allowed to talk about patients, she kept her thoughts to herself.
"Good." She handed the papers back to R.J. He took them and set
them down on the desk.
"Is that everything then?" she asked, because
she really needed to get away from him. His scent, which Rebecca
knew was Old Spice, was about to make her eyes roll back into her
head. The office space, while decent-sized, felt suffocating and
small. His big self filled every nook and cranny with his wide
shoulders and tall frame. Rebecca wasn't considered short. At 5'7",
she was typically considered above average height for a woman. But
next to R.J. she felt like a dwarf. She was pretty sure he hovered
around six-two or maybe six-three. Every time he stood near her,
she was reminded of how small and curvy and feminine she really
was.
"I think so," he answered. "Unless there's
something else you want."
Now that was a loaded question and one she
had no intention of answering. And he knew it, which was why he'd
asked.
She cleared her throat. "No, that's
everything."
He came around the desk and stopped directly
in front of her. For a moment, he didn't say anything, nor did he
move. He just stared down at her in the unnerving way of his. She
attempted to pull in a steadying breath because she feared that he
was actually going to kiss her. Which
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