Page 18 of Just What She Needed

Were all older sisters so irritating? Rhett pretended to find the remnants of her toast of extreme interest. "Don't be an idiot. He doesn't run around bursting into song at every moment just because he's a singer. He isn't Stacee Jaxx, you know."

Mel looked blank. "Stacee who?" Her eyes widened, and she burst into laughter. "That movie! Rock of Ages, right? Oh my God, I haven't seen that in forever. I sure hope Rhys isn't like Stacee Jaxx, 'cause that dude was some kind of messed up. I still think he could've at least hummed a few bars of something, though."

"Actually, he did hum a little. 'She's A Rainbow,' as a matter of fact." So much for savoring the memories in private. Mel should have gone into interrogation instead of finance. "The fact remains that I didn't really think about the whole singer thing when I was with him."

The look Mel gave her over the rim of her coffee cup was full of skepticism. "Well, you can call him Collinsworth or James, or you can call him John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. But the fact remains that you've been hot for him since you hit puberty, and I think you should do something about it."

"I'm not you." Rhett shrugged, uncomfortable. "I can't just—"

A loud raspberry from Mel interrupted her. "You like him. I assume he liked you or he wouldn't have taken you out to dine on such fine fare. Actually, the fact that he did take you to a place as relaxed and casual as Taco Bell means he feels comfortable with you. You should go for it."

Rhett huffed out a sigh. "Did you not hear anything I said? I said I had fun with him. It was nice. I like that nice stuff."

"I've seen the man, you know," Mel said. "Nice doesn't even begin to describe it. So don't sit there and tell me you don't want to get him nekkid."

Heat washed up Rhett's neck and into her cheeks. "I'm not saying I don't. But I'd just like to spend more time with him, okay? Just sitting and talking, or listening to music, or stuff. And maybe hold hands, and kiss after a while."

"So basically, you want to go on a date in the 1950s."

"You're impossible," Rhett declared, and devoted herself to her cold toast and lukewarm coffee. Several minutes passed before Mel spoke again.

"You'd still like to bang him, though, wouldn't you?"

Rhett grinned before she could stop herself.

"Like a screen door in a hurricane."

8

I'm grateful for the road. It gets me in shape. I feel like I'm twenty-five years old after the first or second week.—Steven Tyler

One of the benefits to staying in Mel's building was the fitness room on one of the lower levels. Rhett used it every day, not because she liked exercising because she totally didn’t, but because she saw results from her daily turn on the elliptical trainer. And results were what she was after.

When Todd had drawn away from her both emotionally and physically during the last years of their marriage, Rhett's weight got out of hand. Whether it was payback for her husband's inattention, or a way of soothing herself because he ignored her she wasn't sure. But over two years she added almost fifty pounds of excess weight. Every time she went up a dress size, she vowed to stop eating so much, and then she'd go bake another batch of cookies or have a bowl of ice cream. With chocolate syrup. Even though she was a tall woman at 5'11", there was no hiding that kind of weight gain. Each time she looked in the mirror she couldn't help but think it was no wonder Todd didn't want her. He still had that football physique, that silky light brown hair that curled over his collar, and that bronzed, to-die-for chiseled face that once made all the girls at Claiborne High walk around with damp panties. Rhett would stare at herself in the mirror after her bath and ask why such a handsome man would want a fat wife.

Of course, hindsight was 20/20, and she knew now it wouldn't have mattered if she'd gotten so big a reality television show would come calling. Even before she gained weight Todd transferred his interest to other women. However, she didn't know that then, so in a last-ditch attempt to regain her husband's attention, she cut out snacks and reduced her meal portions. At the time of the cave-in at the utility site that killed him, she was almost down to her ideal weight again. One of the effects of Todd's death was a decreased, almost non-existent appetite, and the remaining excess pounds melted off surprisingly fast. But even though the extra pounds were gone, she had no muscle tone, no definition.

About the time she started her ill-fated job at Metal Specialties she decided she’d better do something about that before she had no muscles left and began doing crunches at home and taking brisk walks around her neighborhood when the weather was nice. It helped, and she saw definite improvements in her abs and legs. But she longed for a better body overall, and she knew that only came with a dedicated exercise regimen. The idea of spending money to go to the gym was anathema. Money aside, there was only one gym in Claiborne, and all the Golden Girls who made her life so miserable were members. Sure, she could have bought a treadmill or something, but there was that whole spending money thing again. But the fitness room at Mel's building was free, and Rhett had utilized it almost every day since she moved to Dallas on her quest to keep herself fit and healthy.

Ten o'clock in the morning on weekdays seemed to be the best time to use the room. The majority of the building's residents were at work then, and Rhett didn't have to worry about being watched while she sweated. On weekends she did light weight training with Mel to tone her arms, an exercise she felt comfortable doing while other people were about. But her jaunts on the elliptical were something she'd rather not have observed since they were far from pretty.

So, she was irritated when she entered the room on Monday to work off the weekend's tacos and discovered someone else there. Irritation changed to a mixture of elation and anxiety when she recognized that someone as Rhys. Yes, she was elated to see him again so soon, but anxious didn't even begin to describe her mindset at the thought of turning into a red-faced, sweating hag in his presence.

"Hello there," he greeted her with a smile.

Rhett's anxiety dialed back a notch when she noticed he was mopping sweat from his face with a towel. It appeared he already completed his workout, so maybe she wouldn't have to do her own exercises under his regard.

"Working off those burritos, huh?" She put her own towel and keys down on a nearby weight bench.

"I do love to indulge, but it's a bitch afterward." He hung his towel around his neck and picked up a bottle of water. "It's not just that, though. I mainly work out to keep up my endurance. If I don't, I'd never make it through a tour. I like to be able to end my shows upright instead of sprawled face down on the stage, gasping for breath."

That was something Rhett hadn't thought about, the intense physical output of putting on a concert. Of course, she'd never seen a concert live, but she had watched them on video and DVD. Now that she thought about it, all the members of Illicit were exceptional physical specimens. The lead guitarist, Ross Kellum, was built like a freakin' tank, and the band's drummer, David Moore, had arms like tree trunks. Even Drew Cooper and Parker McKay, the rhythm guitarist and bass player, were cut.

And speaking of cut, the man before her was a textbook definition. His white, sleeveless T-shirt was plastered to his body, revealing beautifully toned pecs and abs, and showed his biceps to their best advantage as he tipped the water bottle to his mouth. If he wasn't wearing those baggy sweatpants she'd be able to check out his legs. Of course, she'd already seen what an amazing butt he had the day she met him.

Rhett gave herself a mental shake and jerked her gaze back to his face before he could catch her in another bout of ogling.

"Well, I hope having an episode of Charmed running on the DVD player won't disturb you too much," she said, holding up the disc in her hand.