So yeah, he’d left the house with a hard-on and would be going home with one, but surely he could survive one more day. First thing tomorrow, he’d call Jen and arrange for a repeat performance of tonight—one that wouldn’t get interrupted.
Feeling rejuvenated, Cash strode down the sidewalk with a spring to his step. It was raining, but the cool droplets sliding down his face didn’t dampen his mood. Neither did the sudden downpour that soaked him to the bone by the time he reached his Ford Escape. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun with a woman.
He clicked the key remote to unlock the SUV, slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As he flicked on the windshield wipers, he tossed the crumpled paper with Jen’s number in the cup holder, still grinning to himself.
His good mood followed him all the way to the apartment complex.
But it didn’t last.
Nope, because after he’d parked the car and reached for the paper to smooth it out, he realized that the rain had done more than drench his clothes—it had smeared all the ink on that important scrap of paper. Transformed it from a phone number to a streaky smudge of black that resembled a damn Rorschach test.
Jen’s number was gone.
And so was any chance of seeing her again.
Chapter Two
“Not one word,” Jennifer Scott announced as she and her brother entered her apartment.
Carson followed her to the living room, then stood in front of her secondhand plaid-patterned couch and opened his mouth.
“Not. One. Word,” she growled.
He must have sensed she meant business, because after a moment, he lowered his six-foot frame on the sofa and sighed. But he didn’t speak. Nope, he just sat there and watched her pace like a madwoman.
“Look, I know you think I’m a screw-up, but this isn’t my fault,” she muttered as she made tracks in the frayed light-blue carpet. “Do you think I enjoy being stalked? I had no idea Brendan was a maniac, okay? He didn’t exactly advertise that on our first date—‘Hey, guess what, Jen, I’m actually a clingy nut job.’” She huffed out a miserable breath. “He seemed like a good guy, Carson. A normal investment banker who bought his mother a locket for her birthday—a heart-shaped locket. And he put both their pictures in it! It was the sweetest thing ever.”
Carson opened his mouth again but she whipped up her hand to silence him.
“Yeah, I know. He probably goes around the city to various jewelry stores and buys hundreds of lockets to lure unsuspecting salesgirls into going out with him. I guess I’m just a gullible idiot, right?”
“Jenny—”
“And please don’t lecture me about losing my job at Arnold’s. I know I can’t claim to be the poster child for holding a job, but this time it wasn’t my fault. Brendan showed up and caused a scene. I’m not sure I even blame Mr. Arnold for firing me. I wouldn’t want a crazy person frequenting my place of business either.”
“Jenny—”
“So fine, Carson, you’re right. I’m a screw-up. I got involved with a lunatic and I’m unsuccessful in life. Just get it over with and have me committed or something.”
Her rant died off, leaving her feeling not only exhausted but humiliated. She was so tired of being the family fuck-up. The one member of the Scott clan who couldn’t hold it together.
Swallowing a lump of bitterness, she flopped down next to her brother and fought the sting of tears.
After a second, Carson’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “I don’t think any of this is your fault,” he said softly. “All I was going to say, before you rudely told me to shut up, was are you okay?”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Really. Look, I know I rag on you a lot, but that’s because I’m your big brother. That’s the kind of shit we do.” He firmly grasped her chin with one callused hand and forced eye contact. “I don’t think you’re an idiot for getting involved with Brendan. Hell, I hung out with the guy for an entire afternoon when he came over to Mom and Dad’s for brunch, and I didn’t get a psycho vibe from him either. Does that make me an idiot?”
“Yes,” she said glumly. “You’re a SEAL. Your instincts are supposed to be spot-on.”
“You’ve got great instincts too, sis. Brendan was just a good actor. He had us all fooled.” Carson shrugged. “As for the job thing, you wouldn’t have to worry about getting fired all the time if you took Mom up on her offer. She’ll pay your way through nursing school. All you’ve gotta do is say yes.”
Jen’s jaw tensed. “I don’t want to be a nurse.”
“Why not? It’s a great gig. Solid pay, benefits, job security.”
“Bedpans, blood, ornery patients…”
She trailed off, knowing that no matter what she said, Carson wouldn’t get it. No one in her family understood why she hadn’t gone into nursing like her mother, or enlisted in the navy like her dad and brother. Well, blood made her squeamish and violence made her nervous. End of story.
Unfortunately, her parents were incapable of accepting that she might not be good at—or passionate about—the same things they were.
Unlike Carson, who was good at frickin’ everything. A decorated soldier, a husband, her parents’ Golden Boy. Even his man-slut past didn’t reduce him in their parents’ eyes. Their dad laughed it off as “boys will be boys”, while their mom simply chuckled in that “oh, you” manner whenever anyone—well, Jen—reminded her that Carson’s life used to be a revolving door of women.
Now that Carson was married to Holly, his star shone even brighter. Jen loved her sister-in-law to death, but come on, would it kill Holly to be a little less perfect? The chick wasn’t only a talented chef, but she was smart as hell, cute as a button, and probably the funniest person on the planet.
And then there was Jen. Little Jenny, who had no ambition, no serious boyfriend, and no self-control when it came to shoe stores. She was twenty-six years old, yet everyone in her family treated her like an inept five-year-old who couldn’t make smart decisions.
That’s why she’d been so happy when she’d met Brendan. He had a successful career, money in the bank, a practical head on his shoulders. She knew he’d impressed the hell out of her parents when she’d introduced him, and for the four months they’d been together, Jen had been pretty damn happy.
Until she discovered Brendan had a case of the crazies.
“My unemployment status isn’t my main concern right now,” she said tersely. “How am I going to tell Mom and Dad about Brendan?”
“I can tell them if you want,” Carson offered. “But that’s not important right now either. We need to take measures to make sure this asshole doesn’t come after you again.”
“I just filed a restraining order,” she reminded him, gesturing to the manila envelope she’d tossed on the glass coffee table. “He won’t risk violating it.”
“This guy is nuts. Of course he’d risk it.” Carson paused. “When is his work transfer thing happening?”
“Three weeks.”
And thank God for that. Brendan’s transfer to his firm’s Oakland office had been the reason she’d broken up with him. On the surface, anyway. His clingy behavior was what really triggered her inner alarm system, but when he’d told her about his impending move, he’d provided her with the perfect exit strategy. Brendan, however, had wanted them to keep seeing each other long-distance. When she’d refused, he’d gone bat-ass crazy on her, proceeding to give all those cinematic stalker creepshows a run for their money.
“Are we sure he wasn’t lying?” Carson asked sharply.
“He wasn’t. I helped him pack up his apartment. Oh, and we ran into one of his colleagues when we went out for dinner last month, and the two of them were talking about the transfer.”
“So in three weeks, Psycho McGee will be gone.”
“Glory hallelujah.”
“Did you join a Baptist church when I was overseas? Forget it, don’t answer that. Knowing you, you probably did. Anyway, w
e need to make sure he stays away from you until then.”
“My super had the locks changed this morning, and I won’t leave the apartment unless I’m with somebody.”
“Not good enough.”
A warning bell chimed in her head. “What does that mean?”
Without answering, Carson gave her shoulder one last squeeze before getting to his feet. “I’ve gotta go. I wanted to stop by the restaurant to surprise Holly for lunch.”
As he strode toward the door, Jen shot off the couch and hurried after him. “What did you mean by not good enough, Carson? What are you planning and why do I get the feeling it’s going to annoy the shit out of me?”
Shooting her a saccharine smile, Carson reached out to ruffle her hair, a gesture that never failed to aggravate her. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Jenny. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” He reached for the doorknob. “Lock up behind me.”
Stifling a sigh, Jen watched her brother go, then flicked the deadbolt and locked the chain. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Carson was about to add a little more misery to her already miserable life. He’d always been incredibly overprotective of her, just like their dad. But what else could she expect? When you were related to a retired admiral and an active-duty SEAL, macho posturing was a fact of life.
Her shoulders felt heavier than stone as she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She kind of wished it was a shot of whiskey, but she wasn’t much of a drinker, and besides, no amount of alcohol could improve her mood.
When had everything become such a mess? She’d lost her job, her love life had turned into Fatal Attraction, her brother had snapped into alpha-male caveman mode, her parents would probably lecture her for falling for a psycho.
And to make matters worse, her sexy stranger hadn’t called, even though it had been two days since she’d given him her number.
You’re better off. This isn’t the time for a new relationship.
Yeah, that was probably true. Adding a new complication to the mix would undoubtedly lead to disaster, but even knowing that, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of disappointment.
She’d really enjoyed that encounter with Cash McCoy at the Tavern. The conversation, the laughter, the hot make-out and groping session. After being on edge for the past month, looking over her shoulder expecting Brendan to pop out of the shadows, it had been nice to let loose and flirt with a hot guy.
And kiss a hot guy.
And almost have sex with a hot guy.
Just the memory of those piercing blue eyes and chiseled male-model features made her pulse speed up. Hands down, Cash McCoy was the sexiest man she’d ever met. She shivered, remembering the feel of his hard chest against her breasts. The thick ridge of arousal pressing into her thigh. The firmness of his lips and greedy thrust of his tongue.
Jen gulped down the rest of her water, suddenly feeling parched. She didn’t normally fool around with complete strangers, but Cash had unleashed some kind of primal urge inside her. The urge to fuck him senseless.
If they hadn’t been interrupted, she knew without a doubt that senseless fucking would’ve definitely been on the agenda.
And she would’ve loved every second of it.
“You’re such a little slut,” she mumbled to herself.
She couldn’t help but laugh. Ha. Hardly. Truth was, she was the furthest thing from slutty. She wasn’t a virgin, but she hadn’t sown any wild oats either. Which sucked, because sowing some oats sounded unbelievably appealing to her.
Unfortunately, she’d yet to meet a man who was interested in helping her explore her sexuality. Her past boyfriends had treated her with kid gloves, like she was a fragile object that would break if they got too rough. They’d seen her as a pretty little blonde they needed to protect, but she didn’t want a protector. She wanted hungry kisses and husky demands, a man so desperate to get her naked and screw her brains out that he didn’t bother with the when or where or how—he wanted her now and he’d damn well take her.
She’d experienced that with Cash in the brief moments they’d spent together.
Fighting a rush of frustration, she slammed her drinking glass in the sink, then marched out of her tiny kitchen, crossed the tiny living room and entered her tiny bedroom. Running motif of her apartment? Tiny. It was all she could afford on her wages, but this one-bedroom flat sure beat living under her parents’ roof. Their constant lectures and relentless nagging were detrimental to her sanity.
She froze in the middle of her bedroom as a terrifying thought struck her. Now that she’d lost her job at Arnold’s, she might actually have no choice but to move back home. She had enough money saved to pay a few more months of rent, but after that?
“Don’t think about it,” she mumbled, banishing the scary notion.
Squaring her shoulders, she approached the weathered wooden desk sitting beneath the small window that offered a stunning view of the brick wall belonging to the building next door. Her camera bag sat on the desk, and as she slung the strap over her shoulder, the familiar weight of the bag and the Nikon digital SLR it housed brought a sense of tranquility.
Her camera was the one thing guaranteed to soothe her soul. Whenever she peered through the lens of a camera, she felt so confident, so utterly in control. Everything else seemed to melt away—the problems, the stress, the bullshit bogging her down. Taking pictures had always been her means for escape, and at the moment, she needed to escape. Big time.
However, she’d promised Carson she wouldn’t venture out of the apartment unless it was absolutely necessary, which meant she’d have to make do with taking pictures from the balcony.
As she left the bedroom, Jen tried convincing herself that everything would be fine. She’d find a new job. She’d be rid of Brendan once he left San Diego—and until then, the restraining order would keep him in line. And if Cash didn’t call, then no biggie.
She would be just fine.
Still, that didn’t stop her mind from drifting back to the blue-eyed charmer who’d almost rocked her world two nights ago. She wondered what he was doing right now. Probably working, though she wasn’t sure what “security” entailed. He’d been pretty vague about it. Was he a security guard? A bouncer? Sitting in an office right now, designing security software or something?
Or maybe he had the day off and was at home at this very moment, bored, restless—and not thinking about calling her. She’d given him her number in the hope that they could continue exploring the spark burning between them, but evidently Cash hadn’t felt the same combustible chemistry.
Too bad. Considering she’d be housebound for a while, it would’ve been nice to pass the time with her dark-haired hottie.
“You’re missing out, McCoy,” she murmured as she stepped out on the small balcony that overlooked the quiet street below.
Yep, he was totally missing out. With the way her life was going right now, she would’ve jumped at the chance for some hot, sweaty, forget-about-your-problems sex. He wouldn’t even have to buy her dinner—that’s how much of a sure thing she was.
But oh well. He clearly didn’t plan on calling her.
Apparently he had better things to do.
“That’s it, babe, suck my cock. Ah, just like that.”
Cash pushed his erection deeper into the brunette’s mouth. Her teeth scraped the underside of his shaft, sending a zip of heat to his balls. Sweet baby Jesus, he’d needed this. A hot mouth surrounding him, wet tongue lapping him up, soft fingers teasing his sac.
The girl bobbed her head as she got into the blowjob, sucking with such fervor Cash found his ass bumping into the arm of the couch. He hadn’t wasted any time once he’d walked into Dylan Wade’s living room and found the luscious Vanessa on her knees, servicing his buddy. Clothes had come off, positions had switched, and now Cash was on the receiving end of that wicked tongue while Dylan screwed Vanessa from behind.
By some miracle, he hadn’t come the second she took hi
m in her mouth. After six months with no sex, he’d figured he’d explode like a Fourth of July firecracker if a woman so much as looked at his dick.
The sounds of sex bounced off the walls—sucking, slurping, moans, grunts. Dylan’s roommate Seth had gone out for the evening, but even if he walked in right this very moment, Cash knew the sexy brunette wouldn’t balk. She hadn’t even batted an eye when Cash showed up, more than willing to take on both SEALs.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Dylan muttered, gripping Vanessa’s ass as he fucked her with slow, steady strokes. “So sweet. I love this hot, tight pussy.”
His buddy’s hips thrust and retreated, each plunge pushing Vanessa’s face into Cash’s crotch. He cradled the back of her head to steady her, groaning as her eager mouth sucked him so deep his balls tickled her chin. The tingling in his groin told him he was close, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ward off impending release. He didn’t want to come yet, not until he was buried inside that tight channel Dylan kept waxing poetic about.
“Slower, babe,” Cash choked out. He tangled his fingers in her long, silky hair and stilled her enthusiastic bobbing. “I want this to last.”
She slowed down, tickling the head of his cock with her tongue. While her lazy mouth tended to his dick, one hand teased his balls, rolling them between her fingers, fondling, squeezing. She kept her other hand on the hardwood floor to brace herself.
Dylan’s bare chest gleamed with sweat as he drove into the place Cash was dying to be, but Cash could afford to be patient considering his buddy had expended all the effort in wining and dining the delicious Vanessa before bringing her home. Then again, it probably hadn’t taken much effort. All Dylan had to do was bat those green eyes, offer a dimpled grin, and the chicks lined up for a chance to get with the man.
“You want to come, don’t you, honey?” Dylan teased. He slowed the pace and rolled his hips into the brunette’s ass.
“Yes,” she burst out, the sound sending tremors up Cash’s shaft.