“I just came to bring him the food he ordered,” Britt said. Which was technically true.
“Well, he’s still asleep. We were up all night. Just like old times.”
This came with a misty smile and a picturesque tuck of her glorious hair behind her ear. Then she stretched, and the shirt she was wearing edged up ever so slightly. Revealing the tops of ivory hairless thighs and a peek of something lacy and fuchsia.
Britt averted her eyes.
“He’s socreativeabout finding ways to amuse himself when he’s away from Hollywood,” Rebecca added fondly. “He always did know how to fill his downtime.”
“J. T. is pretty resourceful.” Britt said this tightly.
But she was losing her grip on her bravado. Because she was new to whatever this nasty little game was, and she hadn’t slept at all last night, and Rebecca Corday—Rebecca Freaking Corday, of all the people in the world!—was clearly prepared to duel her to the death.
Rebecca smiled sweetly.
“I confess I was a little astonished by the condition of this cabin he bought. But then, he does love to fix... broken things.”
WOW.
Bull’s-eye.
Britt froze, as astonished as if she’d literally been shot.
Some distant, minuscule part of her was impressed with how accurate and how ruthless that guess had been.
She knew it was a guess. It had to be. If she knew anything at all about J. T., and she thought she did, she couldn’t imagine he would ever say a word about her to Rebecca.
But then, she couldn’t imagine the J. T. she knew spending five years of his life with this spectacularly beautiful, uniquely horrible woman.
She gawked speechlessly.
Rebecca gave her a slow, sympathetic smile and shrug. The silent implication being,Sorry kid, but you never had a chance against me.
“Rebecca, who are you talk...”
J. T. wandered out onto the deck.
He was fully clothed. He wasn’t buttoning his jeans or mopping his brow or doing anything else that hinted that he might have just been ravished or had ravished Rebecca all night.
That was no definitive proof that he hadn’t, however.
His eyes were shadowed and red-rimmed from lack of sleep and her heart both ached and exulted because it was probably her fault.
When she saw him, the last vestiges of her bravado sifted away like so much dust and her knees nearly gave way. Because instantly, the world was in color again.
She realized, with a shock, that he was her favorite person.
But J. T.’s expression was hard and cold. It wasn’t an expression he’d ever turned on her before.
If she had to guess, she would have said he was seething.
“Your friend came by with some lunch for you,” Rebecca volunteered, sweetly, when it seemed no one would ever speak.
“Delivery. From the Misty Cat.” Britt’s voice was shaking. She held up the bag, feeling like an idiot. “Glenninsisted I bring it,” she added pointedly.
“Yeah? Good to know that someone had to force you to come see me, Britt.”
Okay, then. He was definitely seething.