“What the hell is going on?”
Both men spun around to see Jen standing at the end of the hall. Shock and horror contorted her features, and when she caught sight of Cash’s face, she raced over and damned if she didn’t blot the blood on his lip with the sleeve of her thin blue cardigan.
Keeping her sleeve there to staunch the blood flow, she turned to glower at her brother. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Me?” Carson said bitterly. “What’s the matter with you? You’re the one sleeping with McCoy.”
Jen remained completely unfazed. “So what if I am? Who I sleep with is none of your business.”
“It is when it’s my teammate you’re fucking.”
She flinched at the crude word, but recovered quickly. “So what?” she said again. “You just said it—Cash is your teammate. He’s your friend. I don’t see how you can be so opposed to this.”
“I’m opposed because I know the way he operates,” Carson retorted, speaking as if Cash wasn’t standing right there. “He doesn’t do relationships. One-night stands and casual flings, that’s all he’s interested in, isn’t that right, McCoy?”
Cash decided now wasn’t the time to admit he wanted more with Jen, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.
“Well, you deserve better than that,” Carson told his sister. “You deserve someone who’ll love you and honor you and—”
“Are you kidding me?” Jen interrupted.
She dropped her sleeve from Cash’s mouth and got right in her brother’s face—well, more like his chest, seeing as Carson was a foot taller than his sister. But she didn’t back down, and her petite frame vibrated with anger.
“You’re such a hypocrite, Carson! Love and honor? Isn’t that what you promised your wife when you recited those wedding vows?”
Carson jerked as if he’d been shot. “What the fuck does Holly have to do with this?”
“You tell me,” Jen snapped. “Were you loving and honoring her when you were sneaking around meeting your little angel?”
Her brother’s face paled.
“Jen,” Cash said cautiously. “Maybe now is not that time to—”
“Now is definitely the time, Cash! He’s standing here passing judgment on us when we both know damn well what he’s been up to.” She glared at her brother. “Who was that redhead you met at Starbucks?”
Silence descended. Carson’s ashen face took on a hint of defeat, and his broad shoulders sagged beneath his white button-down. For a moment, Cash felt a pang of sympathy for the man, which intensified when he remembered the heart-wrenching argument Carson and Holly had been having only minutes ago. He suspected there was more to the story than he and Jen would ever know, but rather than clarify or explain, Carson simply released a ragged breath.
“I’m not talking about this with you,” he mumbled, edging away.
Jen gaped at him. “That’s it? You’re just going to avoid the subject? Cash and I saw you. And I heard you on the phone with another woman. Not even an explanation?”
“I don’t owe you any damn explanations.”
“Well, then apparently I don’t owe you one either.” She looked at Cash. “We should go.”
He touched his swollen lip and his hand came back stained red. “You’re probably right.”
“Why don’t you clean up your face and wait for me here?” she said tersely. “I’ll tell Jane and everyone you said goodbye, that way you won’t have to go out there and scare the kids with all that blood.”
Without sparing a glance at her brother, Jen marched off, her shoulders stiffer than two-by-fours.
The two men remained, eyeing each other like two wild animals vying over territory. Cash cleared his throat, knowing he ought to say something, anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Not about his feelings for Jen, anyway.
Unfortunately, Carson didn’t give him a chance to speak. With one final scowl, the other man stalked off and then the front door slammed again.
Shit. This was one headache he definitely didn’t need.
Cash ducked into the bathroom and studied his face in the mirror. He was no longer bleeding, but his mouth and jaw were bathed in blood, making him look like an extra in a horror movie. Sighing, he turned the faucet and bent to wash the blood off. He dried his face using toilet paper, not wanting to use Jane and Becker’s white hand towels in case the cut reopened.
When he stepped back in the hall, Jen was waiting there, her mouth set in an angry line. “I can’t believe him,” she muttered. “I know my brother can be an asshole, but this was something else.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. I think he was angrier with himself than with me. I kind of showed up at the tail end of his argument with Holly.”
Jen let out a weary breath. “They were fighting?”
“Yeah, and Carson took out his frustration on me. I’m sure he’ll come crawling by with an apology once he cools down.”
At least he hoped so. Because no matter what Carson thought—or wanted—Cash had no intention of walking away from Jen.
Chapter Twelve
Two days passed and Jen still hadn’t heard from her brother. He was going out of his way to avoid her, which she found not only infuriating, but juvenile as hell. She’d left him several messages, ranging from pissed off to apologetic, but truth was, she didn’t feel like apologizing to him. She couldn’t believe he’d hit Cash, his own teammate. And then lecturing her about who she got involved with? Seeing as he’d screwed up his own marriage, he had no right to pass judgment on her relationship with Cash.
Relationship?
Jen’s hand froze over the handle of the pot. She’d just filled it with water to be boiled for the macaroni and cheese she was making for dinner, but now she set the pot down, stunned by where her thoughts had gone.
“Fling,” she mumbled to herself.
Right, she and Cash weren’t in a relationship. They were having a fling. A fling that would be over in less than a week.
So why did the thought of ending it with Cash bring an ache to her heart?
Her ringing phone provided a much-needed distraction from her troubling thoughts. She grabbed it from the counter and looked at the screen, wrinkling her forehead as she studied the unfamiliar number. She didn’t think it was Brendan, since it was a Los Angeles area code, but who would be calling her from L.A.?
She answered with a wary, “Hello?”
A male voice met her ears. “May I speak to Jennifer Scott?”
“This is she.”
“Jennifer, hello. This is Rick Martin. I’m the photo editor at Today’s World.”
Surprise flitted through her. “Oh…hi.”
“Jane Becker gave me your number—I hope that’s okay. She said you wouldn’t mind if I called you directly.”
“Ah, no, it’s not a problem. What’s this about, Mr. Martin?”
“Please, call me Rick.” He sounded really pleasant, his voice a deep baritone. “And I was hoping you would come in for a meeting to discuss a freelance position with the magazine.”
She dropped the phone.
As her cell clattered to the tiled floor, Jen scrambled to her knees, cursing up a blue streak as she fumbled to retrieve it. When she lifted it back to her ear, she heard chuckling on the other end of the line.
“Sorry about that,” she said hastily. “I dropped the phone.”
“I gathered.”
“Um, I’m a little confused,” she confessed. “How did you…I never submitted anything…”
“I came across your blog the other day, and I have to say, I was impressed by what I saw. Your bio mentioned you hail from a military family, and the last name sounded familiar, so I called Jane. Turns out I met your brother Carson at Jane’s wedding. Her husband and your brother serve on the same unit. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah, small world,” she echoed numbly. She was still shocked beyond words—the photo editor of one of the most renowned magazines in the country had seen
her blog? And he’d been impressed?
“Anyway, Jane said you’d be open to the opportunity, though she did confess she had no idea you were such a talented photographer.”
Jen felt herself blushing.
“Would you be able to come to L.A. this week?” Rick continued. “I’d love to discuss this further.”
“Me too,” she said, probably a tad too eagerly. “When would you like me to come?”
“How about Friday?”
Friday? That only gave her three days to put together a portfolio. “Friday’s great,” she blurted out.
Jen was in a total daze as they went over the details. She scribbled the magazine’s address and Rick’s number on a Post-it note, then thanked him and hung up the phone, staring into nothingness for several long seconds as she tried to wrap her head around what just happened.
And then, when it finally sank in, she let out a shriek of delight.
A second later, a naked, dripping-wet Cash burst into the living room.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
She gaped at him. “You heard me all the way in the shower? Wow, you’ve got phenomenal hearing.”
Ignoring the remark, he strode toward her. Droplets slid down his bare chest and clung to his eyelashes, and his annoyance was written all over his chiseled face. “You screamed. What happened?”
“I shrieked,” she corrected.
“Why?”
“Because…because I just got the best news ever.”
She quickly told him about the phone call with Rick Martin, and the next thing she knew, she was in Cash’s arms. The front of her tank top promptly got drenched, and drops of water from his nose fell onto her forehead, reminding her of the fact that he was buck naked and soaking wet.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said gruffly, and then he lowered his head to kiss her, and for a second she forgot what they were celebrating. Cash’s drugging, toe-curling kisses always had that effect on her.
She sank into his strong embrace, still overwhelmed. Someone had seen her photographs—and liked them. Liked them enough to discuss the possibility of giving her a job.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s so surreal.”
Cash smiled. “We have to celebrate.”
She felt a flicker of embarrassment. “It’s just a meeting. There’s no guarantee I’ll even get the job.”
Confidence lined his tone. “You’ll get it. And we’re celebrating.” He took a backward step, completely unfazed by his nudity. “Put something nice on,” he ordered. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”
“But I was about to make macaroni and cheese.”
“We can’t celebrate over mac and cheese, sweetheart. We’re not heathens.” He turned on his heel, providing her with a candid view of his taut ass. Man, she could bounce quarters off that thing. “Wear something fancy,” he said over his shoulder.
Unable to stop smiling, she hurried into Cash’s bedroom and darted toward her suitcases, which sat on the floor. As she rummaged around, she realized with dismay that she hadn’t packed anything nicer than a casual sundress.
Heading back to the hall, she poked her head in the bathroom and said, “I’m going up to Annabelle’s. Fashion emergency.”
An hour and a half later, Jen finally strode back into the apartment. She knew Cash was probably annoyed that she’d made him wait so long, but once she’d gone up to Annabelle’s place and requested to borrow a dress, the brunette had insisted on helping her get ready. Dress, shoes, hair, makeup—Annabelle had put her through the wringer. But when Jen walked into the living room and saw Cash’s expression, she decided all the effort had definitely been worth it.
“Jesus. You look…incredible.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and pleasure tickled her skin. Annabelle had loaned her a red dress with a deep vee neckline and a filmy skirt that swirled around her knees, and they’d decided to pair it with three-inch black stilettos that added some height to her petite frame and made her legs look long and sleek. Annabelle had also curled Jen’s hair so that it fell down her back in tousled ringlets, and they’d opted for minimal makeup, save for red lipstick that made her feel bold and wanton.
Under Cash’s appreciative gaze, her cheeks heated, then scorched when she suddenly registered his appearance.
Oh, sweet mother of God. The man filled out a suit like nobody’s business. The black jacket hugged his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were undone, revealing his strong, corded throat. He looked sexy as hell, and he smelled like heaven when he leaned in to kiss her. The scent of his aftershave gave her a head rush; his firm lips as they gently brushed over hers made her even dizzier.
“Are you sure we’re not jinxing it?” she murmured when they broke apart. “We’re kind of putting the cart before the horse by celebrating what might not end in a job offer.”
He took her hand and led her to the door. “It’s not the job offer that matters. It’s that someone looked at your photos and recognized your talent. A job would just be the icing on the cake. If you don’t get it, then you can apply somewhere else, knowing that you are good enough.”
His thoughtful words made her heart soar. God, for a man who claimed not to know what to say to women, he seemed to be doing a damn good job.
Cash held her hand the entire way down to the parking lot, letting go only to open the car door for her. His long, masculine fingers stroked her palm as he drove away from the building.
Ten minutes later, when he pulled up in front of Primrose, Jen looked over in surprise. “How’d you swing a reservation?”
“I know the chef,” Cash answered with a grin. Then he hesitated. “I know this place probably reminds you of Carson, but everywhere else I called didn’t have a table.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s all right. But let’s promise not to talk about my idiot brother tonight.”
“Done.”
She felt a bit like Cinderella as she followed Cash into the restaurant. The place was filled to capacity, but Holly must have pulled some serious strings, because the hostess led them to one of the more secluded tables in the main room. The pristine white tablecloth and glowing candles made Jen smile, and then Cash pulled out a chair for her, giving her an even bigger princess complex.
“I could get used to all this gallantry,” she teased.
His blue eyes softened. “I could get used to being gallant.”
They settled in their chairs and reached for the menus. Jen tried not to raise her eyebrows when she glimpsed the price list. Jeez, she needed to talk to her sister-in-law about something called the recession. But based on previous visits, she couldn’t deny that the food here was to die for, which was probably why it was so damn expensive.
Cash ordered a bottle of red wine and they toasted to her interview. For the next hour, they chatted easily, swiping food off each other’s plates and later sharing a decadent piece of chocolate cake. At some point during the evening, it occurred to her that this was their first real date, a realization that both pleased and disturbed her. She decided not to dwell on the latter, choosing to focus on her good news, the great food and the even greater company. God, why was being with Cash so…effortless?
By the time they got back to the apartment, Jen had never felt happier or more relaxed.
“Thanks for dinner,” she murmured, kissing Cash’s clean-shaven cheek. “I had a really nice time, cowboy.”
“The night’s not over yet,” he said, reaching for her hand.
He led her to the bedroom, where Jen gasped. Candles had been arranged all over the room. The yellow glow and the shadows dancing on the walls created a romantic ambience that made her heart do a little flip. The bed, which Cash had left in disarray the entire two and half weeks she’d been here, was now perfectly made with a new bedcover and fresh pillowcases.
When had he done all this? Probably when she’d been up at Annabelle’s, Jen deduced, but then ano
ther thought occurred to her, causing her eyes to narrow.
“Did you leave the candles burning the entire time we were out? Because that is such a fire hazard!”
He chuckled. “No, I texted Annabelle when we pulled into the lot and told her to light them.” He came up behind her and brushed his lips over the nape of her neck. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”
Jen practically floated to the bed, her pulse speeding up when Cash sank to his knees in front of her. He slid her stilettos off one by one, then moved his fingers beneath the hem of her dress and rolled the fabric up her legs. When her thigh-high stockings were revealed, he groaned.
“Oh, I like these,” he rasped, trailing his fingers over the sheer stockings.
Anticipation built inside her as Cash slowly unrolled each stocking, his fingers leaving a trail of heat along her skin. He ran his hands over her bare legs, then bunched the hem of her dress with his fists and slid the fabric up and over her head.
Left in a black strapless bra and skimpy panties, she met Cash’s eyes. The longing and appreciation on his face made her palms go damp and her heart beat faster.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” he murmured.
“Only about, oh, a hundred times already.”
“Let’s make it a hundred and one then. You’re beautiful, Jen.”
He looked beautiful himself, his eyes shining in the candlelight, his gorgeous face softer than she’d ever seen it.
Her throat clogged with emotion. Her heart squeezed. Her hands trembled. God, something was happening. The way he was looking at her, the tenderness with which he touched her… She sensed something changing between them, but she was too scared to label it, too scared to let it fully sink in.
“Lie back,” he said.
Swallowing, she lay back, watching as he stood up and began removing his clothes. He tossed his jacket aside, and then his long fingers unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off his broad shoulders, leaving him gloriously bare-chested. Her heart pounded when his trousers and boxers hit the floor. His impressive arousal jutted proudly, making her mouth water.