He looked—and felt—like a total tool in the getup.
When he stepped out of his room, he collided with Jen, who took one look at him and burst out laughing. “Are you wearing khakis? And loafers?”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m trying to look presentable.”
“Why?” It dawned on her. “For my parents? Oh, that’s sweet. But unnecessary—they’ll be too busy lecturing me to notice what you’re wearing.”
He cast a longing look at the television before walking over to turn it off. So much for his sacred Sunday ritual. Instead of football and beer, he was about to spend the afternoon with Jen’s parents.
And Carson.
Shit, he’d forgotten all about Carson.
“By the way—not one word to your brother about what we’ve been doing all weekend,” Cash said as they left the apartment.
Jen was walking ahead of him, and she spared him a pithy look over her shoulder. “Gee, really? I was planning on giving him a play-by-play of every orgasm I had.”
They reached the stairwell door. Before she could walk through it, he grasped her chin with one hand and glared at her. “I’m serious, sweetheart.”
She frowned. “What exactly did Carson threaten you with when he told you to keep your hands off me?”
With a sigh, he dropped his hand from her face. “I’m planning on doing the officer training this year, and I need a recommendation from him. He implied he’d give me a bad one if I got involved with you.”
Jen’s jaw fell open. “Cash, if my brother denies you a good recommendation based on who you’re sleeping with rather than your skills as a soldier, then he’s a really shitty lieutenant.”
“Maybe, but I can’t risk it.”
Now she let out a sigh. “Fine, my lips are sealed. But I can’t promise I won’t tell him off for all the other ways he’s been interfering in my life lately.” She paused. “Not today, though. I’ll already have my hands full dealing with my dad.”
She reached for the door handle, then stopped abruptly. Grinning, she surprised him by looping her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes and giving him a long, open-mouthed kiss that left him breathless.
As their tongues met, Cash’s anxiety vanished, replaced by a blast of molten heat that sizzled from his mouth straight down to his groin. Christ, he couldn’t get enough of this woman. She was like a new drug he hadn’t known existed, and every kiss, every touch and mind-numbing release, fueled the addiction.
“There,” she said, pulling her mouth free. “That ought to tide us over for a while.”
Hardly. That one kiss had made his groin throb like a motherfucker. It took all his willpower to banish the surge of lust buzzing in his veins.
They headed downstairs and left the building through the rear doors that opened onto the parking lot. Neither of them said much during the drive, the silence broken only by the occasional direction from Jen. Cash absently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove north on the I-805, wishing he knew what to expect from this visit. He hated going into situations blind, and by the time he exited the interstate and followed Del Mar Heights toward Jen’s parents’ house, he was feeling tense and subdued again.
The Scott family home was nestled away from the road in a residential area. Modest-sized houses, towering oaks and well-maintained sidewalks flashed by. It was a nice area, and family friendly, judging by the multitude of bicycles and kiddie pools littering the lawns.
Cash pulled into the wide driveway and parked behind a very familiar Range Rover. He smothered a curse. Great, the LT was already here. Hopefully Carson didn’t possess some freaky sex radar that would start beeping the second he saw Cash’s face.
But hell, Jen had raised a damn good point before. Carson had no business basing his recommendation on Cash’s sex life. So what if he’d given in to his attraction to Jen? His love life had no bearing on his military expertise. He was a damn good SEAL, and his cock played no part in that equation.
Setting his jaw, he followed Jen up the flower-lined path toward the house.
The front door swung open the second they climbed the porch and Carson’s tall frame filled the doorway, his gloomy expression serving as an omen of what lay behind the door. He nodded a distracted hello at Cash, then glanced at his sister.
“How pissed is he?” Jen asked with a sigh.
“Scale of one to ten? Seven, maybe eight.” Carson dragged a hand through his blond hair. “But it’s not directed at you. Mostly Brendan, and then me, for handling it on my own and not telling them.”
Jen frowned. “I’m handling it on my own. They should be mad at me, not you.”