Feeling Hot (Out of Uniform #7)

Okay. Well. Unattractive was not the adjective to describe Dylan Wade.

Movie-star gorgeous was more apt. Or maybe female wet dream.

“Hi. You must be Jen,” he said in a deep, easygoing voice. His expression was downright smoldering as he unabashedly checked her out.

A bolt of sheer lust struck her as the blond Adonis rose from the couch. He was around the same height as Cash, six-foot-plus, but fair where Cash was dark. Jen couldn’t hide her feminine appreciation as she swept her gaze over his chiseled face—green eyes the shade of ripe limes, a killer grin, sexy dimples.

His body didn’t disappoint, either. Long muscular legs encased in dark-blue denim, a 49ers jersey stretched over a sculpted chest. The sleeves of his shirt were cut off, revealing his corded biceps and roped forearms.

She was tempted to ask him to do a little twirl so she could assess whether the back of him was as delicious as the front, but she had no doubt that it was.

Jen finally found her voice. “And you must be Dylan.”

She stuck out her hand, but rather than shake it, he grasped her fingers with his and raised her knuckles to his lips, brushing a fleeting kiss over them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he drawled, his green eyes twinkling.

From his spot on the couch, Cash snorted. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

“Can’t help it,” Dylan called without taking his eyes off her. “I’m overwhelmed by her beauty.”

Another snort cut through the air.

Dylan ignored his friend and gave Jen another long once-over. “I’m serious. You’re beautiful, honey.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Um. Thanks.”

“Hey, Romeo, how about you sit your ass back down so we can watch my boys claim victory?” Cash suggested.

Dylan shot her a lopsided grin. “McCoy actually believes his shitty team stands a chance of defeating mine. Clearly, he lives in a fantasy world.” He took her hand and led her toward the couch. “Come on, let’s watch his bubble burst.”

The next thing she knew, Jen was sandwiched between the two SEALs, who proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes trash-talking each other as their respective teams took the field. Their good-natured taunts and creative insults kept her in a constant state of much-needed laughter, and by the time the game’s first quarter came to a close, she’d managed to put all thoughts of Carson and his marriage out of her mind.

When Dylan disappeared into the kitchen to grab some beers, Jen glanced at Cash and grinned. “I like him.”

“Everyone likes him,” Cash said with a sigh. “I can honestly say that Dylan is the most charming person I’ve ever met in my life.”

She couldn’t disagree. Those laughing green eyes and devilish grins were definitely having an effect on her. She could see why women went wild for the man.

“Look what I found,” Dylan announced. He held up a bottle of Patrón, grinning like the cat who’d swallowed the canary.

“What happened to beers?” Cash asked. He’d slung his arm over Jen’s shoulder, and she was enjoying the way he carelessly dragged his fingers over the top of her arm.

“You want a beer? Fridge is that way,” Dylan replied, jerking a thumb at the kitchen. “But I’m gonna get my Patrón on. Who knew O’Connor had such good taste?”

Retaking his seat, he unscrewed the bottle and brought it to his lips. He swallowed with a contented sound, then held out the bottle. “What do you say, Blondie? You gonna pansy out and stick to beer, or are you in the mood for something that’ll make you burn?” He wagged his eyebrows in challenge.

A smile stretched across her mouth. “I guess I could use a burn.” When Cash frowned, she offered a little shrug. “I need a distraction, remember?”

“Fine, but you’re not allowed to pass out, okay?”

“Deal.” She accepted the outstretched bottle and took a small sip. It burned, all right, all the way down to her stomach. But almost immediately, warmth spread through her and a pleasant buzzing flowed in her veins.

She handed Cash the bottle. After a beat, he slugged back some tequila.

“Oh, get ready for it,” Dylan said with a whoop, his green eyes focused on the flat screen. “Ten yards…five…touchdown!”

A new round of heckling ensued, courtesy of Dylan as San Francisco scored, but then Arizona answered with a touchdown of their own, and it was Cash’s turn to deliver some verbal abuse.

Jen couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. During halftime, Dylan regaled her with stories, everything from childhood anecdotes to bad dating experiences. The guy was charismatic as hell, not to mention sexy as all get-out. She couldn’t help checking him out every now and then, admiring his classically handsome face, his ripped arms, those hypnotic dimples.