Feeling Hot
Page 72
“Ah, no, it’s not a problem. What’s this about, Mr. Martin?”
“Please, call me Rick.” He sounded really pleasant, his voice a deep baritone. “And I was hoping you would come in for a meeting to discuss a freelance position with the magazine.”
She dropped the phone.
As her cell clattered to the tiled floor, Jen scrambled to her knees, cursing up a blue streak as she fumbled to retrieve it. When she lifted it back to her ear, she heard chuckling on the other end of the line.
“Sorry about that,” she said hastily. “I dropped the phone.”
“I gathered.”
“Um, I’m a little confused,” she confessed. “How did you…I never submitted anything…”
“I came across your blog the other day, and I have to say, I was impressed by what I saw. Your bio mentioned you hail from a military family, and the last name sounded familiar, so I called Jane. Turns out I met your brother Carson at Jane’s wedding. Her husband and your brother serve on the same unit. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah, small world,” she echoed numbly. She was still shocked beyond words—the photo editor of one of the most renowned magazines in the country had seen her blog? And he’d been impressed?
“Anyway, Jane said you’d be open to the opportunity, though she did confess she had no idea you were such a talented photographer.”
Jen felt herself blushing.
“Would you be able to come to L.A. this week?” Rick continued. “I’d love to discuss this further.”
“Me too,” she said, probably a tad too eagerly. “When would you like me to come?”
“How about Friday?”
Friday? That only gave her three days to put together a portfolio. “Friday’s great,” she blurted out.
Jen was in a total daze as they went over the details. She scribbled the magazine’s address and Rick’s number on a Post-it note, then thanked him and hung up the phone, staring into nothingness for several long seconds as she tried to wrap her head around what just happened.
And then, when it finally sank in, she let out a shriek of delight.
A second later, a naked, dripping-wet Cash burst into the living room.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
She gaped at him. “You heard me all the way in the shower? Wow, you’ve got phenomenal hearing.”
Ignoring the remark, he strode toward her. Droplets slid down his bare chest and clung to his eyelashes, and his annoyance was written all over his chiseled face. “You screamed. What happened?”
“I shrieked,” she corrected.
“Why?”
“Because…because I just got the best news ever.”
She quickly told him about the phone call with Rick Martin, and the next thing she knew, she was in Cash’s arms. The front of her tank top promptly got drenched, and drops of water from his nose fell onto her forehead, reminding her of the fact that he was buck naked and soaking wet.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said gruffly, and then he lowered his head to kiss her, and for a second she forgot what they were celebrating. Cash’s drugging, toe-curling kisses always had that effect on her.
She sank into his strong embrace, still overwhelmed. Someone had seen her photographs—and liked them. Liked them enough to discuss the possibility of giving her a job.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s so surreal.”
Cash smiled. “We have to celebrate.”
She felt a flicker of embarrassment. “It’s just a meeting. There’s no guarantee I’ll even get the job.”
Confidence lined his tone. “You’ll get it. And we’re celebrating.” He took a backward step, completely unfazed by his nudity. “Put something nice on,” he ordered. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”
“But I was about to make macaroni and cheese.”
“We can’t celebrate over mac and cheese, sweetheart. We’re not heathens.” He turned on his heel, providing her with a candid view of his taut ass. Man, she could bounce quarters off that thing. “Wear something fancy,” he said over his shoulder.
Unable to stop smiling, she hurried into Cash’s bedroom and darted toward her suitcases, which sat on the floor. As she rummaged around, she realized with dismay that she hadn’t packed anything nicer than a casual sundress.
Heading back to the hall, she poked her head in the bathroom and said, “I’m going up to Annabelle’s. Fashion emergency.”
An hour and a half later, Jen finally strode back into the apartment. She knew Cash was probably annoyed that she’d made him wait so long, but once she’d gone up to Annabelle’s place and requested to borrow a dress, the brunette had insisted on helping her get ready. Dress, shoes, hair, makeup—Annabelle had put her through the wringer. But when Jen walked into the living room and saw Cash’s expression, she decided all the effort had definitely been worth it.
“Jesus. You look…incredible.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and pleasure tickled her skin. Annabelle had loaned her a red dress with a deep vee neckline and a filmy skirt that swirled around her knees, and they’d decided to pair it with three-inch black stilettos that added some height to her petite frame and made her legs look long and sleek. Annabelle had also curled Jen’s hair so that it fell down her back in tousled ringlets, and they’d opted for minimal makeup, save for red lipstick that made her feel bold and wanton.
“Please, call me Rick.” He sounded really pleasant, his voice a deep baritone. “And I was hoping you would come in for a meeting to discuss a freelance position with the magazine.”
She dropped the phone.
As her cell clattered to the tiled floor, Jen scrambled to her knees, cursing up a blue streak as she fumbled to retrieve it. When she lifted it back to her ear, she heard chuckling on the other end of the line.
“Sorry about that,” she said hastily. “I dropped the phone.”
“I gathered.”
“Um, I’m a little confused,” she confessed. “How did you…I never submitted anything…”
“I came across your blog the other day, and I have to say, I was impressed by what I saw. Your bio mentioned you hail from a military family, and the last name sounded familiar, so I called Jane. Turns out I met your brother Carson at Jane’s wedding. Her husband and your brother serve on the same unit. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah, small world,” she echoed numbly. She was still shocked beyond words—the photo editor of one of the most renowned magazines in the country had seen her blog? And he’d been impressed?
“Anyway, Jane said you’d be open to the opportunity, though she did confess she had no idea you were such a talented photographer.”
Jen felt herself blushing.
“Would you be able to come to L.A. this week?” Rick continued. “I’d love to discuss this further.”
“Me too,” she said, probably a tad too eagerly. “When would you like me to come?”
“How about Friday?”
Friday? That only gave her three days to put together a portfolio. “Friday’s great,” she blurted out.
Jen was in a total daze as they went over the details. She scribbled the magazine’s address and Rick’s number on a Post-it note, then thanked him and hung up the phone, staring into nothingness for several long seconds as she tried to wrap her head around what just happened.
And then, when it finally sank in, she let out a shriek of delight.
A second later, a naked, dripping-wet Cash burst into the living room.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
She gaped at him. “You heard me all the way in the shower? Wow, you’ve got phenomenal hearing.”
Ignoring the remark, he strode toward her. Droplets slid down his bare chest and clung to his eyelashes, and his annoyance was written all over his chiseled face. “You screamed. What happened?”
“I shrieked,” she corrected.
“Why?”
“Because…because I just got the best news ever.”
She quickly told him about the phone call with Rick Martin, and the next thing she knew, she was in Cash’s arms. The front of her tank top promptly got drenched, and drops of water from his nose fell onto her forehead, reminding her of the fact that he was buck naked and soaking wet.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said gruffly, and then he lowered his head to kiss her, and for a second she forgot what they were celebrating. Cash’s drugging, toe-curling kisses always had that effect on her.
She sank into his strong embrace, still overwhelmed. Someone had seen her photographs—and liked them. Liked them enough to discuss the possibility of giving her a job.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s so surreal.”
Cash smiled. “We have to celebrate.”
She felt a flicker of embarrassment. “It’s just a meeting. There’s no guarantee I’ll even get the job.”
Confidence lined his tone. “You’ll get it. And we’re celebrating.” He took a backward step, completely unfazed by his nudity. “Put something nice on,” he ordered. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”
“But I was about to make macaroni and cheese.”
“We can’t celebrate over mac and cheese, sweetheart. We’re not heathens.” He turned on his heel, providing her with a candid view of his taut ass. Man, she could bounce quarters off that thing. “Wear something fancy,” he said over his shoulder.
Unable to stop smiling, she hurried into Cash’s bedroom and darted toward her suitcases, which sat on the floor. As she rummaged around, she realized with dismay that she hadn’t packed anything nicer than a casual sundress.
Heading back to the hall, she poked her head in the bathroom and said, “I’m going up to Annabelle’s. Fashion emergency.”
An hour and a half later, Jen finally strode back into the apartment. She knew Cash was probably annoyed that she’d made him wait so long, but once she’d gone up to Annabelle’s place and requested to borrow a dress, the brunette had insisted on helping her get ready. Dress, shoes, hair, makeup—Annabelle had put her through the wringer. But when Jen walked into the living room and saw Cash’s expression, she decided all the effort had definitely been worth it.
“Jesus. You look…incredible.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and pleasure tickled her skin. Annabelle had loaned her a red dress with a deep vee neckline and a filmy skirt that swirled around her knees, and they’d decided to pair it with three-inch black stilettos that added some height to her petite frame and made her legs look long and sleek. Annabelle had also curled Jen’s hair so that it fell down her back in tousled ringlets, and they’d opted for minimal makeup, save for red lipstick that made her feel bold and wanton.
