Heart Breaker: A Best Friend’s Sister Forced Proximity Spicy Romance (Out of Uniform Book 1)

As far as Cash was concerned, Sundays were sacred. Sundays meant watching football, drinking beer, and eating junk food. And he never strayed from that routine, not if he could help it.

So why was he finding it impossible to focus on the television screen?

For the hundredth time in the last hour, his gaze moved away from the TV and landed on the blonde across the room. She had a pair of earbuds in and was listening to music. She hadn’t voiced a single complaint when he’d laid down the Sunday football law. Instead, she’d spent the past hour transferring photos from a very expensive-looking camera to her laptop.

He had no idea what was up with him, why he felt the strongest urge to pull up the chair next to Jen’s and find out what she was working on. To spend the day sitting and talking. Maybe steal some kisses.

Talking. Stealing kisses.

What was he, a teenaged girl?

This need to get to know the woman he was sleeping with was disconcerting as hell.

Curiosity had him grudgingly rising from the couch. Jen’s gaze flicked up at his approach. She pulled out her earphones. “What’s up? Did your team lose or something?”

“No.” He rounded the table and plopped down beside her. “I was curious about what you’re working on.”

She blinked in surprise. “Oh. Nothing really. I’m just uploading some pictures.”

Cash inspected the Nikon on the table. “Shit, this camera is hardcore. When you said you liked messing around with photography, I figured you had one of those point-and-shoot cameras.”

“I used to, but there’s no fun in that.” She shrugged. “It’s more satisfying adjusting the settings yourself and capturing something unique.”

“Can I see some of your pictures?”

Now she looked uneasy. “Why?”

“Why not?”

She chewed on her bottom lip as if trying to decide whether or not he was genuinely interested, and Cash suddenly remembered the comment she’d made when they’d first met, about how nobody in her family took her seriously. Maybe she was worried he’d make fun of her work?

“Come on,” he pressed. “I’d love to take a look.”

“Um. Okay.” She shifted the laptop so they could both see the screen. “These are some shots I took in January when I went to a resort in Jamaica.”

Cash leaned in, expecting to find postcard-perfect shots of swaying palm trees, sandy white beaches, and a calm ocean, but that was not the case. At all.

“What the hell kind of resort did you to go?” he asked suspiciously, his gaze focused on the desolate scene before him.

She offered a sheepish look. “I didn’t spend much time on the resort. But don’t tell my brother,” she added quickly. “Carson and my parents think I take these yearly sun-and-fun vacations for the, well, sun and fun.”

Her fingers traveled over the track pad to scroll through the pictures. Cash was blown away. Some of the pictures were in color, others in black and white, but all displayed images he hadn’t expected. Several featured a little boy, not older than five or six, with crooked teeth bared in a big grin. In one photo, the boy sat in the dirt, playing with marbles. In another, he dashed toward a small hut with a tin roof and made of rotting wood that looked about to collapse. The last shot showed the boy weaving through piles of garbage, while black flies hovered around him.

Cash frowned. “Where was this taken?”

“In a little town outside of Kingston. Poverty is their way of life. But Marcus—that’s the kid in the picture—he was the sweetest kid I’d ever met. Smiling all the time, despite it all.”

“What the hell were you thinking, walking around in places like these? You should’ve stayed at the hotel where it was safe.”

She didn’t even have the decency to look contrite. “There’s only so many times you can ooh and aah at the ocean. Besides, I’m easily bored. Lying on the beach all day for a week isn’t my thing. I want to see and do things I’ve never experienced before. So if it means stepping out of my comfort zone and visiting a village, or checking out the ganja shops in Kingston—”

“What?”

“Or visiting sugar cane fields in Haiti, ancient ruins in Mexico…” She trailed off with a shrug. “You’ve got to admit, it makes for more interesting pictures.”

She kept scrolling through photos. Cash couldn’t fight the concern in his gut. When he saw a series of photographs that looked like they’d been taken in the middle of a full-blown riot, he let out an expletive and scowled at Jen.

“So you take these trips, tell your family you’re suntanning at a resort, and then you disappear into some of the most dangerous areas in those countries?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s beyond foolish, Jen. It’s downright reckless.”

“I’m careful,” she insisted. “I hire a respectable driver recommended by the resort staff. I don’t go off into dark alleys alone—I don’t go out after dark at all, in fact. And I’ve been trained in self-defense. I’m not some weak little twit who can’t take care of herself.”

“Then why are you lying to your family about what you really do on these trips?”

“Because unfortunately, they think I’m a weak little twit who can’t take care of herself. So instead of trying to change their minds, I let them think what they want and do my own thing.” She studied his face. “Disapproval of my tactics aside, what do you think of the pictures? Honestly?”

Cash sighed. “They’re incredible.”

A blush dotted her cheeks. “Are you just saying that?”

“No. If anything, I’m tempted to tell you they suck ass, just so you’d quit putting yourself in potentially dangerous situations,” he grumbled. “But I can’t lie to you. These are amazing.”

The joy that flooded her eyes bugged him a little. Was this the first time anyone had complimented her work? If so, that was a damn shame. The pictures on the screen were crisp, stark, unforgiving—she didn’t use any fancy techniques or filters to pretty up her subjects. She simply captured what she saw and forced you to look at it. Really look at it.

“Why aren’t you working for some big-time magazine or newspaper?” he asked in bewilderment.

She looked startled. “I do this for fun. I have a blog where I upload pictures, but it’s just a hobby. Other than the people who go on my blog, you’re the first person I’ve ever shown my pictures to.”

“You seriously haven’t shown these to anyone other than me?”

Her brows furrowed. “Why do you look so pissed?”

“I’m not pissed. I’m surprised.” He shook his head. “You should be doing this professionally. Forget blogging, your work needs to be hanging in a gallery. Or on the cover of National Geographic or something.”

She stared at him as if he’d just told her she’d won the lottery. “You really think that?”

“Hell yes.”

“I never thought…” Her voice wobbled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His expression clouded over. “But I’m still pissed you’re exploring all those foreign countries without a single concern for safety.”

“Isn’t that your job? Exploring foreign countries without a single concern for safety?”

She had him there.

Before he could point out that he was trained for that kind of shit, Jen’s phone broke out in an ear-shattering military march, complete with pounding percussion and a lot of horns. The sound was so intense it shook the dining room table.

She grinned. “That’s my dad’s ringtone. He programmed it for himself because he thought my other ringtones were too girlie.” Rolling her eyes, she lifted the phone to her ear and said, “Hi, Dad.” She paused, and then all the color drained from her face. “Are you serious? Did he hurt her?”

Cash’s shoulders went rigid.

Next to him, Jen breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God… Yes… Dad, I just said yes, okay? I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath. “Yes, Dad, he’ll come with me. Tell Carson he doesn’t have to—oh fine, whatever.” Her jaw tightened. “Yes, sir.”

She hung up and turned to him with a flat, angry expression. “Brendan showed up at my parents’ house an hour ago.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing crazy, which proves he’s not a total moron. You don’t mess with the admiral, and Brendan knows it. But he did yell a little and demand to know where I was. Carson already told our parents that Brendan and I broke up, but he didn’t give them any details. Now they have an idea, because Brendan mentioned the restraining order during his rant.” She scraped her chair back and stood with a scowl. “He scared my mom—and trust me, she doesn’t scare easily. And he pissed off my dad, who is now requesting our presence.”

Wariness climbed up Cash’s throat. “Our presence?”

“Carson told him I’m staying with you, so he wants you there. Be prepared, because he’ll probably grill you.”

Cash felt shell-shocked as he watched Jen scurry off toward Matt’s bedroom. He had to meet her parents? Now?

He ran a hand over the stubble coating his jaw. Normally he had no problem charming a girl’s folks, but if Admiral Scott was anything like both Carson and Jen described, then no amount of charm would work on the man. Shit. And he didn’t even have time to shave, damn it.

Cash sprang to action. In his bedroom, he rummaged through his dresser drawers for some presentable clothing. Showing up in sweatpants and a wife-beater definitely wouldn’t make a great first impression. He settled on a pair of wrinkled khakis he hardly ever wore, hence the wrinkles, and a blue button-down shirt. Forgoing his trademark shitkickers, he shoved his feet into a pair of brown loafers he found in his closet, which made him take pause because he had no idea how they’d gotten there.

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.”

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.”

It was her turn to 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. 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 dick. He couldn’t get enough of this woman. She was like a new drug he hadn’t known existed. 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 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 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? He was a damn good SEAL, and his dick played no part in that equation.

The front door swung open the second they climbed the porch. 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.

“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.”

Her brother shrugged. “Come on, let’s get this over with. They’re out on the patio.”

Neither Scott sibling paid Cash much attention. They simply marched down the wide hallway, leaving him to steal a quick glance here and there as he trailed after them. Family photos lined the cream-colored walls in the corridor. There was an obscene amount of shots featuring Carson in his uniform, and Cash also glimpsed a portrait featuring an older version of Carson clad in full navy regalia.

The hallway spilled into a spacious, country-style kitchen with gleaming appliances and an enormous butcher-block work island. A glass sliding door across the room led out to a cedar deck ringed by a slatted wooden railing. As they neared the door, Cash gazed beyond the deck at the manicured lawn and kidney-shaped swimming pool.

Jen’s parents were out on the deck, sitting on white wicker chairs. Both jumped to their feet when they spotted the new arrivals, and a little blonde cyclone dashed over to embrace Jen. Jen had inherited her tiny stature and perfect features from her mother, who looked so much like her they could have been twins.

The admiral waited his turn while his wife hugged their daughter, but the hard line of his square jaw belied his patient pose. The second Jen’s mother released her, the admiral pulled her into a tight embrace.

The Scotts looked Jen up and down as if gauging her physical and mental state. Their scrutiny lasted so long Jen finally sighed. “I told you I’m fine. Stop looking at me like I’m not.”

Jen’s mother peered at Cash. “Is this him?”

“Yes,” Jen replied, sounding both irritated and amused. “Cash McCoy, these are my parents, Laura and Gary Scott.”

Cash approached the couple and stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Scott,” he said gruffly.

Laura shook his hand first. Her smile was genuinely warm. “Call me Laura, please.”

Gary leaned in for the handshake, his lips curled in a frown as he said, “Call me Admiral. Or sir.”

From the corner of his eye, Cash saw Jen rolling her eyes.

Jen’s father still had a death grip on Cash’s hand. He didn’t want to pansy out and be the first to end the shake, but he knew the older man expected it of him, and the need to get in the man’s good graces beat out Cash’s macho instincts.

He withdrew his hand, then studied Gary Scott. Six feet tall, blond hair threaded with silver, the shoulders of a linebacker and a handsome yet stern face. Commanding was the first word that came to mind. Followed by terrifying.

The admiral narrowed his pale blue eyes. “So you’re the one entrusted with the task of keeping my daughter safe.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man continued his slow appraisal, then nodded as if Cash had passed his test. “You seem competent.”

Relief flickered through him. “Thank you, sir.”

“With that said, know that if any harm comes to my daughter, I will drown you.”

Huh. So that’s where Carson got it from.

“Dad!” Jen chided, but her father had already turned away from Cash.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Although he formed it as a question, it was clearly an order.

And although the admiral wasn’t his CO, wasn’t even active duty, Cash’s butt landed in the chair before the man even finished his sentence. So did everyone else’s butts. Which made one thing very clear—the admiral ran a tight ship here.

This was going to be a long afternoon.