Feeling Hot
Page 45
An alarm went off in his head. “Where exactly are we going, sweetheart?”
“The Gaslamp. I wanted to drop off a few resumes.”
“Then why are you dressed like Sporty Spice?”
She huffed out a breath. “I’m applying to a sporting goods store. I figured I’d dress the part, show them that, ah, I’m into sports.”
Suspicion swarmed his gut. His gaze shifted to the clothes she’d picked out for him—jeans, black hoodie and yep, a baseball cap. Okay, this was weird.
Deciding he didn’t like the WTF nature of this situation, Cash dropped his towel and flashed her a grin. “Why don’t we do the resume thing tomorrow and spend the day in bed instead?”
Jen didn’t bat an eyelash, not even when he gave his hardening c**k a long, firm stroke. Huh. No reaction at the sight of his goods. She was definitely a woman on a mission today.
“Or…we can hand out resumes,” she said before turning to the door.
Sighing, he reached for a clean pair of boxers from the laundry basket on the floor, then dressed in a hurry, donning the clothes Jen had left on the bed. He even put on the damn hat, mostly because he was curious to find out where Jen was taking him that would require them to wear matching hoodies and caps. Sporting goods store, his ass.
His unease grew once they left the apartment and got into his car. Jen seemed even more agitated now—avoiding his eyes, biting her lip, tapping her short fingernails on the stack of resumes in her lap.
“Okay,” he grumbled. “Why are you acting like a crazy person?”
“What are you talking about?” she said in an overly cheerful voice. “I’m acting normal.”
He shook his head, deciding to give up. Might as well let this insanity unfold naturally.
Ten minutes later, they reached the Gaslamp District. Cash lucked out and found an empty parking space in front of a meter, but not even his impressive, borderline-superhuman parallel parking job inspired a reaction from Jen.
After he fed the meter and locked the SUV, he glanced at the small coffee shop they’d parked in front of. “Want to grab a coffee?”
She looked so thrilled that he grew even more suspicious. “Yes, I would love a coffee.”
Cash made a move toward the café, but she quickly grabbed his arm. “Not from here. I’m in the mood for Starbucks.”
He shot her a strange look. “Okay.”
They took off down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians as Jen set a brisk pace more suited for running the Boston Marathon.
“What’s the rush?” Cash asked in annoyance.
“Craving an iced mocha, that’s all,” she replied cheerfully.
The Starbucks was five blocks away, but at the breakneck speed they were going, they reached it in three minutes flat. Cash headed for the door, but Jen yet again intercepted him. Her blue eyes were glued to the storefront, scanning the glass like a hawk focusing on its prey. All of a sudden, a cross between a squeak and a hiss flew out of her mouth, and then she tugged on his hand and dragged him toward the side of the building.
Just like that, Cash had officially had enough.
“What the f**k is going on?” he demanded.
Shamefaced, she met his harsh gaze. “Okay, so… Don’t be mad.”
He groaned. Someone starting a sentence with “don’t be mad” was never a good sign. “Why are we here, Jen?”
“Look in the window.”
Frowning, Cash peered around the corner. Every table in the coffee shop was occupied and he scanned the patrons with military precision. Three older women laughing over iced coffees, a lone student reading a thick textbook, a group of businessmen chatting…
Son of a bitch.
He rapidly moved out of sight and glared at Jen. “Are you f**king kidding me? We’re spying on Carson?”
“Don’t think of it as spying. We’re…discreetly monitoring his movements. You know, doing some recon.”
Cash raised his hand to run it through his hair, only to collide with the brim of his baseball cap. Make that his disguise. And he suddenly noticed that Jen wasn’t carrying her resumes. She must have left them in the car, which confirmed that she’d had an ulterior motive this entire time.
“This is ridiculous. Let’s go. I’m not spying on your brother.”
Her lips tightened in an angry line. “Did you happen to notice that he’s not alone?”
He frowned. “He was sitting alone at the table, Jen.”
She crept along the brick wall and peeked around the building again, then beckoned him. “Look again,” she said flatly.
Cash stole another glance and cursed under his breath. Shit, she was right. Carson’s back was to the window, but Cash had a clear view of the auburn-haired woman now occupying the small table. She must have stepped away when he’d looked over the first time.
From his vantage point, he noted that Carson’s companion was average looking, but those long auburn tresses and the remarkable rack beneath her V-neck top definitely upped her sexy factor.
Jen sidled up to him and made a dismayed noise. “What the hell is he doing with that woman?”
“Maybe they’re just friends.”
No sooner did he finish that sentence than the redhead reached across the table and gripped Carson’s hand. Her face took on an intense expression as she said something to the blond SEAL.
Cash caught Jen’s look of outrage. “Friends hold hands sometimes,” he said feebly.
“The Gaslamp. I wanted to drop off a few resumes.”
“Then why are you dressed like Sporty Spice?”
She huffed out a breath. “I’m applying to a sporting goods store. I figured I’d dress the part, show them that, ah, I’m into sports.”
Suspicion swarmed his gut. His gaze shifted to the clothes she’d picked out for him—jeans, black hoodie and yep, a baseball cap. Okay, this was weird.
Deciding he didn’t like the WTF nature of this situation, Cash dropped his towel and flashed her a grin. “Why don’t we do the resume thing tomorrow and spend the day in bed instead?”
Jen didn’t bat an eyelash, not even when he gave his hardening c**k a long, firm stroke. Huh. No reaction at the sight of his goods. She was definitely a woman on a mission today.
“Or…we can hand out resumes,” she said before turning to the door.
Sighing, he reached for a clean pair of boxers from the laundry basket on the floor, then dressed in a hurry, donning the clothes Jen had left on the bed. He even put on the damn hat, mostly because he was curious to find out where Jen was taking him that would require them to wear matching hoodies and caps. Sporting goods store, his ass.
His unease grew once they left the apartment and got into his car. Jen seemed even more agitated now—avoiding his eyes, biting her lip, tapping her short fingernails on the stack of resumes in her lap.
“Okay,” he grumbled. “Why are you acting like a crazy person?”
“What are you talking about?” she said in an overly cheerful voice. “I’m acting normal.”
He shook his head, deciding to give up. Might as well let this insanity unfold naturally.
Ten minutes later, they reached the Gaslamp District. Cash lucked out and found an empty parking space in front of a meter, but not even his impressive, borderline-superhuman parallel parking job inspired a reaction from Jen.
After he fed the meter and locked the SUV, he glanced at the small coffee shop they’d parked in front of. “Want to grab a coffee?”
She looked so thrilled that he grew even more suspicious. “Yes, I would love a coffee.”
Cash made a move toward the café, but she quickly grabbed his arm. “Not from here. I’m in the mood for Starbucks.”
He shot her a strange look. “Okay.”
They took off down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians as Jen set a brisk pace more suited for running the Boston Marathon.
“What’s the rush?” Cash asked in annoyance.
“Craving an iced mocha, that’s all,” she replied cheerfully.
The Starbucks was five blocks away, but at the breakneck speed they were going, they reached it in three minutes flat. Cash headed for the door, but Jen yet again intercepted him. Her blue eyes were glued to the storefront, scanning the glass like a hawk focusing on its prey. All of a sudden, a cross between a squeak and a hiss flew out of her mouth, and then she tugged on his hand and dragged him toward the side of the building.
Just like that, Cash had officially had enough.
“What the f**k is going on?” he demanded.
Shamefaced, she met his harsh gaze. “Okay, so… Don’t be mad.”
He groaned. Someone starting a sentence with “don’t be mad” was never a good sign. “Why are we here, Jen?”
“Look in the window.”
Frowning, Cash peered around the corner. Every table in the coffee shop was occupied and he scanned the patrons with military precision. Three older women laughing over iced coffees, a lone student reading a thick textbook, a group of businessmen chatting…
Son of a bitch.
He rapidly moved out of sight and glared at Jen. “Are you f**king kidding me? We’re spying on Carson?”
“Don’t think of it as spying. We’re…discreetly monitoring his movements. You know, doing some recon.”
Cash raised his hand to run it through his hair, only to collide with the brim of his baseball cap. Make that his disguise. And he suddenly noticed that Jen wasn’t carrying her resumes. She must have left them in the car, which confirmed that she’d had an ulterior motive this entire time.
“This is ridiculous. Let’s go. I’m not spying on your brother.”
Her lips tightened in an angry line. “Did you happen to notice that he’s not alone?”
He frowned. “He was sitting alone at the table, Jen.”
She crept along the brick wall and peeked around the building again, then beckoned him. “Look again,” she said flatly.
Cash stole another glance and cursed under his breath. Shit, she was right. Carson’s back was to the window, but Cash had a clear view of the auburn-haired woman now occupying the small table. She must have stepped away when he’d looked over the first time.
From his vantage point, he noted that Carson’s companion was average looking, but those long auburn tresses and the remarkable rack beneath her V-neck top definitely upped her sexy factor.
Jen sidled up to him and made a dismayed noise. “What the hell is he doing with that woman?”
“Maybe they’re just friends.”
No sooner did he finish that sentence than the redhead reached across the table and gripped Carson’s hand. Her face took on an intense expression as she said something to the blond SEAL.
Cash caught Jen’s look of outrage. “Friends hold hands sometimes,” he said feebly.
