He hesitated for a beat, then said, “Security.”
Fine, he was lying again, but he’d already escaped one navy groupie tonight and he wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. Then again, this woman was so beautiful he might be willing to make an exception.
“Huh. I figured you’d say military. You give off a military vibe. I mean, look at that big, buff body of yours—it ought to be illegal.”
He didn’t miss the slight note of derision when she said the word military. “Got something against military men?” he asked lightly.
“Nope. I respect the hell out of them,” she answered. “I just don’t want to date them.”
He frowned, a part of him wanting to admit he’d lied about his job, just to see how she’d react. But she kept talking before he could get a word in. “I bet you’re good at security. Me, on the other hand? I suck at everything.”
Cash smiled. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true. That’s why I always get fired. School was never my thing, so I didn’t go to college. I have no interest in medicine like my mom, no distinguishable talents, no great passions. I like messing around with my camera and taking pictures, but that’s just a hobby.” Vulnerability flashed in her big blue eyes. “Do you think there’s a certain age when you should have everything figured out? Because I just turned twenty-six, and I still have no idea what I want to do with my life.”
He shrugged. “I think everyone figures stuff out at their own pace. Eventually you’ll find yourself on the right path.”
“I guess.” Her shoulders sagged. “Maybe I should get into porn. According to some creepy producer who approached me on the street, I have the ‘look’ for it.”
“You really got asked to do porn?” Well. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who could totally picture this blue-eyed beauty in his own personal naked film.
“Yes, I really did,” she said in a glum voice.
“Porn’s an admirable profession,” he said solemnly.
She pursed her lips in thought. “But my porn-star name sucks. You know how you’re supposed to take the name of your first pet and pair it with the street you grew up on? Well, our dog’s name was Boris and I grew up on Denton Street. Boris Denton. That sounds like a dictator.”
“I’m not even going to ask why you’d name your dog Boris.”
“That’s my brother’s doing.” She fired him a curious look. “What would your porn name be?”
“I don’t know. I never had any pets growing up.” He shrugged again. “Besides, I’ve been told my real name sounds like a porn name anyway, so I guess I’ve already got one.” He supplied his name before she could ask. “Cash McCoy.”
She promptly shook her head. “That’s not a porn name. That’s cowboy all the way.”
“Cowboy,” he echoed dubiously.
“Hell yeah. Or maybe an actor.” She clapped her hands together. “An actor who plays a cowboy. Can’t you see it?” Her voice deepened to mimic the movie-man voice from the previews. “One duel, one chance to avenge his pa’s murder…Cash McCoy in…High Noon Outlaw.” She grinned at him. “Maybe that’s what I should do—write the copy for movie trailers.”
“I think you should stick to porn. High Noon Outlaw sounds like the worst movie on the planet.”
As another peal of laughter left that Cupid’s bow mouth of hers, lust slammed into his groin again. Damn, her lips were so damn sexy. Pink, ripe and utterly kissable. His mouth tingled, and he had to fight the urge to lean in and press his lips to hers. He was dying to know if she tasted as sweet as she looked. The kind of noises she’d make when their tongues touched.
“Why do you keep staring at my lips?”
Sheepish, he met her eyes, which were narrowed with distrust. “I can’t help it. You have really nice lips.”
“And let me guess, they’d look even nicer wrapped around your dick.”
He choked out a laugh. “You said it, not me.”
“But you were thinking it.”
Yup, he sure was. And his cock seemed to enjoy the wicked thoughts running through Cash’s mind—the big boy was harder than a baseball bat, pushing against his zipper and begging for some attention.
“So it’s true, huh? Men really do think about sex like every other minute,” she said in a wry voice.
“Afraid so,” he confirmed.
Rolling her eyes, the blonde bombshell ran a hand through her hair, causing the scent of her shampoo to drift into his nose and wreak havoc on his senses. She smelled like cherries—man oh man, he loved cherries.
Make a move, McCoy.
His brain’s order—or had that come from his cock?—called attention to the opportunity staring him square in the eye. Here he was, sitting in the dark with a beautiful woman and an erection—why the hell was he dilly-dallying?
“You know, I just had a thought,” he drawled.
“Is that a new occurrence for you? Is your brain tingling?”