Heart Breaker: Chapter 3

“Not one word,” Jennifer Scott announced as she and her brother entered her apartment.

Carson followed her to the living room, stood in front of her secondhand plaid-patterned couch, and opened his mouth.

“Not. One. Word,” she growled.

Sensing she meant business, he lowered his six-foot frame on the sofa and sighed. But he didn’t speak. Nope, he just sat there and watched her pace like a madwoman.

“I know you think I’m a screw-up, but this isn’t my fault,” she muttered as she made tracks in the frayed blue carpet. “Do you think I enjoy being stalked? I had no idea Brendan was a maniac, okay? He didn’t exactly advertise that on our first date—‘Hey, guess what, Jen, I’m actually a clingy nut job.’” She huffed out a miserable breath. “He seemed like a good guy, Carson. A normal investment banker who bought his mother a locket for her birthday—a heart-shaped locket! And he put both their pictures in it! It was the sweetest thing ever.”

Carson opened his mouth again, but she whipped up her hand to silence him.

“Yeah, I know. He probably goes around the city to various jewelry stores and buys hundreds of lockets to lure unsuspecting salesgirls into going out with him. I guess I’m just a gullible idiot, right?”

“Jenny—”

“And please don’t lecture me about losing my job at Arnold’s. I know I can’t claim to be the poster child for holding a job, but this time it wasn’t my fault. Brendan showed up and caused a scene. I’m not sure I even blame Mr. Arnold for firing me. I wouldn’t want a crazy person frequenting my place of business either.”

“Jenny—”

“So fine, Carson, you’re right. I’m a screw-up. I got involved with a lunatic and I’m unsuccessful in life. Just get it over with and have me committed or something.”

Her rant died off, leaving her feeling not only exhausted but humiliated. She was so tired of being the family fuck-up. The one member of the Scott clan who couldn’t hold it together.

Swallowing a lump of bitterness, she flopped down next to her brother and fought the sting of tears.

After a second, Carson’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“I don’t think any of this is your fault,” he said gruffly. “All I was going to say, before you rudely told me to shut up, was are you okay?”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Really. Look, I know I rag on you a lot, but that’s because I’m your big brother. That’s the kind of shit we do.” He grasped her chin with one callused hand and forced eye contact. “I don’t think you’re an idiot for getting involved with Brendan. Hell, I hung out with the guy for an entire afternoon when he came over to Mom and Dad’s for brunch, and I didn’t get a psycho vibe from him either. Does that make me an idiot?”

“Yes,” she said glumly. “You’re a SEAL. Your instincts are supposed to be spot-on.”

“You’ve got great instincts too. Brendan was just a good actor. He had us all fooled.” Carson shrugged. “As for the job thing, you wouldn’t have to worry about getting fired all the time if you took Mom up on her offer. She’ll pay your way through nursing school. All you’ve gotta do is say yes.”

Jen’s jaw tensed. “I don’t want to be a nurse.”

“Why not? It’s a great gig. Solid pay, benefits, job security.”

“Bedpans, blood, ornery patients…”

She trailed off, knowing that no matter what she said, Carson wouldn’t get it. No one in her family understood why she hadn’t gone into nursing like her mother, or enlisted in the navy like her dad and brother. Well, blood made her squeamish and violence made her nervous. End of story.

Unfortunately, her parents were incapable of accepting she might not be good at—or passionate about—the same things they were.

Unlike Carson, who was good at frickin’ everything. A decorated soldier, a husband, her parents’ Golden Boy. Even his man-slut past didn’t reduce him in their parents’ eyes. Their dad laughed it off as “boys will be boys,” while their mom simply chuckled in that “oh, you” manner whenever anyone—well, Jen—reminded her that Carson’s life used to be a revolving door of women.

Now that Carson was married to Holly, his star shone even brighter. Jen loved her sister-in-law to death, but come on, would it kill Holly to be a little less perfect? The chick wasn’t only a talented chef, but she was smart as hell, cute as a button, and probably the funniest person on the planet.

And then there was Jen. Little Jenny, who had no ambition, no serious boyfriend, and no self-control when it came to shoe stores. She was twenty-five years old, yet everyone in her family treated her like an inept five-year-old who couldn’t make smart decisions.

That’s why she’d been so thrilled when she’d met Brendan. He had a successful career, money in the bank, a practical head on his shoulders. She knew he’d impressed the hell out of her parents when she’d introduced him, and for the four months they’d been together, Jen had been pretty damn happy.

Until she discovered Brendan had a case of the crazies.

“My unemployment status isn’t my main concern right now,” she said tersely. “How am I going to tell Mom and Dad about Brendan?”

“I can tell them if you want,” Carson offered. “But that’s not important right now either. We need to take measures to make sure this asshole doesn’t come after you again.”

“I just filed a restraining order,” she reminded him, gesturing to the manila envelope she’d tossed on the glass coffee table. “He won’t risk violating it.”

“This guy is nuts. Of course he’d risk it.” Carson paused. “When is his work transfer thing happening?”

“Three weeks.”

And thank God for that. Brendan’s transfer to his firm’s Oakland office had been the reason she’d broken up with him. On the surface, anyway. His clingy behavior was what really triggered her inner alarm system. But when he’d told her about his impending move, he’d provided her with the perfect exit strategy.

Brendan, however, had wanted them to keep seeing each other long-distance. When she’d refused, he’d gone batshit crazy on her, proceeding to give all those movie stalkers a run for their money.

“Are we sure he wasn’t lying?” Carson asked sharply.

“He wasn’t. I helped him pack up his apartment. Oh, and we ran into one of his colleagues when we went out for dinner last month, and the two of them were talking about the transfer.”

“So in three weeks, Psycho McGee will be gone.”

“Glory hallelujah.”

“Did you join a Baptist church when I was overseas? Forget it, don’t answer that. Knowing you, you probably did. Anyway, we need to make sure he stays away from you until then.”

“My super had the locks changed this morning, and I won’t leave the apartment unless I’m with somebody.”

“Not good enough.”

A warning bell chimed in her head. “What does that mean?”

Without answering, Carson gave her shoulder one last squeeze before getting to his feet. “I gotta go. I wanted to stop by the restaurant to surprise Holly for lunch.”

As he strode toward the door, Jen shot off the couch and hurried after him. “What did you mean by not good enough, Carson? What are you planning and why do I get the feeling it’s going to annoy the shit out of me?”

Shooting her a saccharine smile, Carson reached out to ruffle her hair, a gesture that never failed to aggravate her. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Jenny. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” He reached for the doorknob. “Lock up behind me.”

Stifling a sigh, she watched her brother go, then flicked the deadbolt and locked the chain. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Carson was about to add a little more misery to her already miserable life. He’d always been incredibly overprotective of her, just like their dad. But what else could she expect? When you were related to a retired admiral and an active-duty SEAL, macho posturing was a fact of life.

Her shoulders felt heavier than stone as she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She kind of wished it was a shot of whiskey, but she wasn’t much of a drinker, and besides, no amount of alcohol could improve her mood.

When had everything become such a mess? She’d lost her job, her love life had turned into Fatal Attraction, her brother had snapped into alpha-male caveman mode, her parents would probably lecture her for falling for a psycho.

And to make matters worse, her sexy stranger hadn’t called, even though it had been two days since she’d given him her number.

You’re better off. This isn’t the time for a new relationship.

Yeah, that was probably true. Adding a new complication to the mix would undoubtedly lead to disaster, but even knowing that, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of disappointment.

She’d really enjoyed the encounter with Cash McCoy at the Tavern. The conversation, the laughter, the hot make-out and groping session. After being on edge for the past month, looking over her shoulder and expecting Brendan to pop out of the shadows, it had been nice to let loose and flirt with a hot guy.

And kiss a hot guy.

And almost have sex with a hot guy.

Just the memory of those piercing blue eyes and chiseled male-model features made her pulse speed up. Hands down, Cash McCoy was the sexiest man she’d ever met. She shivered, remembering the feel of his hard chest against her breasts. The thick ridge of arousal pressing into her thigh. The firmness of his lips and greedy thrust of his tongue.

Jen gulped down the rest of her water, suddenly parched. She didn’t normally fool around with complete strangers, but Cash had unleashed some kind of primal urge inside her. The urge to fuck him senseless.

If they hadn’t been interrupted, she knew without a doubt that senseless fucking would’ve been on the agenda.

And she would’ve loved every second of it.

“You’re such a little slut,” she mumbled to herself, then couldn’t help but laugh.

Ha. Hardly. Truth was, she was the furthest thing from slutty. She wasn’t a virgin, but she hadn’t sown any wild oats either. Which sucked, because sowing some oats sounded unbelievably appealing to her.

Unfortunately, she’d yet to meet a man who was interested in helping her explore her sexuality. Her past boyfriends had treated her with kid gloves, like she was a fragile object that would break if they got too rough. They’d seen her as a pretty little thing they needed to protect. But she didn’t want a protector. She wanted hungry kisses and husky demands, a man so desperate to get her naked and screw her brains out that he didn’t bother with the when or where or how—he wanted her now and he’d damn well take her.

She’d experienced that with Cash in the brief moments they’d spent together.

Fighting a rush of frustration, she slammed her glass in the sink, then marched out of her tiny kitchen, crossed the tiny living room, and entered her tiny bedroom. Running motif of her place? Tiny. It was all she could afford on her wages, but this one-bedroom apartment sure beat living under her parents’ roof. Their constant lectures and relentless nagging were detrimental to her sanity.

She froze in the middle of her bedroom as a terrifying thought struck her. Now that she’d lost her job at Arnold’s, she might actually have no choice but to move back home. She had enough money saved to pay a few more months of rent, but after that?

“Don’t think about it,” she mumbled, banishing the scary notion.

Squaring her shoulders, she approached the wooden desk beneath the small window that offered a stunning view of the brick wall belonging to the building next door. Her camera bag sat on the desk, and as she slung the strap over her shoulder, the familiar weight of the bag and the Nikon digital SLR it housed brought a sense of tranquility.

Her camera was the one thing guaranteed to soothe her soul. Whenever she peered through the lens, she felt so confident, so utterly in control. Everything else seemed to melt away—the problems, the stress, the bullshit bogging her down. Taking pictures had always been her means for escape. And right now, she needed to escape. Big time.

However, she’d promised Carson she wouldn’t venture out of the apartment unless it was absolutely necessary, which meant she’d have to make do with taking pictures from the balcony.

As she left the bedroom, Jen tried convincing herself that everything would be fine. She’d find a new job. She’d be rid of Brendan once he left San Diego—and until then, the restraining order would keep him in line. And if Cash didn’t call, then no biggie.

She would be just fine.

Still, that didn’t stop her mind from drifting back to the blue-eyed charmer who’d almost rocked her world two nights ago. She wondered what he was doing right now. Probably working, though she wasn’t sure what “security” entailed. He’d been pretty vague about it. Was he a security guard? A bouncer? Sitting in an office right now, designing security software or something?

Or maybe he had the day off and was at home at this very moment. Bored, restless—and not thinking about calling her. Evidently Cash hadn’t felt the same combustible chemistry.

Too bad. Considering she’d be housebound for a while, it would’ve been nice to pass the time with her dark-haired hottie.

“You’re missing out, McCoy,” she murmured as she stepped out on the small balcony that overlooked the quiet street below.

Yep, he was totally missing out. With the way her life was going right now, she would’ve jumped at the chance for some hot, sweaty, forget-about-your-problems sex. He wouldn’t even have to buy her dinner—that’s how much of a sure thing she was.

But oh well. He clearly didn’t plan on calling her.

Apparently he had better things to do.

“That’s it, babe, suck my cock. Ah, just like that.”

Cash pushed his dick deeper into the brunette’s mouth. Her teeth scraped the underside of his shaft, sending a zip of heat to his balls. Sweet baby Jesus, he’d needed this. A hot mouth surrounding him, wet tongue lapping him up, soft fingers teasing his sac.

Vanessa bobbed her head as she got into the blowjob, sucking with such fervor Cash found his ass bumping into the arm of the couch. He hadn’t wasted any time once he’d walked into Dylan Wade’s living room and found Vanessa on her knees, servicing his buddy. He couldn’t even be mad that the impatient jerks had gotten started without him—these two were even bigger sex maniacs than he was.

Vanessa was awesome, though. Gorgeous, confident. She was Dylan’s latest friends-with-benefits, but she’d taken a liking to Cash too when the three of them hung out last week. So when Dylan called tonight inviting Cash to “chill” with them, it was a no-brainer. Clothes had come off, positions had switched, and now Cash was on the receiving end of that wicked tongue while Dylan screwed Vanessa from behind.

By some miracle, he hadn’t come the second she took him in her mouth. After six months with no sex, he’d figured he’d explode like a Fourth of July firecracker if a woman so much as looked at his dick.

The sounds of sex bounced off the walls. Dylan’s roommate Seth had gone out for the evening, but even if he walked in right this very moment, Cash knew Vanessa wouldn’t balk. She had an adventurous spirit, and, according to her, “more was always merrier.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Dylan muttered, gripping Vanessa’s ass as he fucked her with slow, steady strokes. “So sweet. I love this hot, tight pussy. Feel good?”

She lifted her mouth from Cash’s dick. “So good,” she told Dylan. Her tone got sassy. “Now quit talking and get me off.”

Dylan laughed in approval. “Yes, ma’am.” His hips thrust forward, the deep plunge pushing her face into Cash’s crotch.

Cash cradled the back of Vanessa’s head to steady her, groaning as her eager mouth sucked him so deep his balls tickled her chin. The tingling in his groin told him he was close, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ward off impending release. He didn’t want to come yet, not until he was buried inside that tight channel Dylan kept waxing poetic about.

“Slower, babe,” Cash choked out. He tangled his fingers in her long, silky hair and stilled her enthusiastic bobbing. “I want this to last.”

She slowed down, tickling the head of his cock with her tongue. While her lazy mouth tended to his dick, one hand teased his balls, rolling them between her fingers, fondling, squeezing. She kept her other hand on the hardwood floor to brace herself.

Dylan’s bare chest gleamed with sweat as he drove into the place Cash was dying to be. “You want to come, don’t you, honey?” he teased. He slowed the pace and rolled his hips.

“Yes,” she burst out, the sound sending tremors up Cash’s shaft.

Dylan reached one arm around and brought his hand between her legs. Cash knew the moment his buddy’s fingers found her clit, because she reared her ass like a filly in heat and moaned against Cash’s erection.

Didn’t take long until she started to orgasm, and before he could make a preemptive withdrawal, Dylan had already tugged Vanessa’s mouth off Cash’s dick.

“Easy there,” Dylan drawled. “No biting, V. Cash plans on using that cock of his again after tonight.”

She laughed breathlessly at that, still trembling. As she recovered from her climax, Cash sank to his knees, positioned her so she was draped over his chest, and slid his hand between her legs. He took over for his friend, rubbing her pussy and huskily urging her to another orgasm while Dylan pumped into her.

A groan sliced through the air as Dylan began to come, followed by Vanessa’s delighted cry as she came again. Cash rode out the orgasm with the duo, stroking her swollen clit, kissing her neck, watching as Dylan rested his forehead between Vanessa’s shoulder blades and shuddered with release.

The pair finally went still, Dylan’s green eyes glazed as he pulled out. Vanessa sagged into Cash’s chest. Her tongue darted out to briefly taste one of his nipples and then she lifted her head, brown eyes hazy with desire.

“I’ve wanted you in me since the moment I met you,” she said in a breathy voice.

She didn’t have to ask him twice.

He donned a condom, then took her hand and led her to the couch. A second later, he covered her body with his and plunged into her with one fluid stroke.

And then his phone rang.

He froze.

So did Dylan, who stood in the middle of the room, ditching his condom.

“You gonna get that?” Vanessa asked, looking annoyed that he’d stopped midthrust.

When a second ringtone didn’t join the first, both men relaxed.

Cash bent down to plant a kiss on her lips. “Nah. If we had to report in, both our phones would’ve gone off.”

“You’re good to go, McCoy. Resume the fucking,” Dylan drawled.

Ignoring the smartass remark, Cash brushed his lips over Vanessa’s and rocked his hips as he eased back into a nice, languid rhythm. Watching her eyes grow misty with pleasure, he admired just how pretty she was. High cheekbones, pouty lips, smooth olive-toned skin. She wasn’t as beautiful as Jen, but—

Uncool, bro.

Shit, what was he doing, thinking about another woman right now?

And why had his dick hardened to a whole new level the moment Jen’s face floated into his mind?

“Faster. I need it faster.”

Swallowing, he forced himself to focus on the woman beneath him, who was bumping her pelvis against his groin, trying to deepen the contact. He withdrew completely, slammed back in to the hilt, and gave the lady what she wanted. Hard, fast strokes guaranteed to drive them both over the edge.

It didn’t take long before he was coming in a hot rush. He shortened his strokes and dug his fingers into her hips as the orgasm burned through his body like wildfire. When Vanessa let out a throaty cry and clenched her inner muscles around him, the fire burned hotter, making his balls ache with exquisite agony.

Fuck.

He’d needed that.

Once the pleasure finally ebbed, Cash caught his breath and gently pulled out. The haze of satisfaction fogging Vanessa’s eyes brought a jolt of matching satisfaction to his gut. He might not have given her his full attention by the end, but at least he’d gotten her off again. He still felt shitty, though, for tastelessly thinking about Jen. Vanessa didn’t deserve that.

Fortunately, Dylan was considering her feelings for the both of them. As Cash removed the condom and staggered to his feet, Dylan quickly took his place, launching himself at Vanessa, making her laugh as he nuzzled her neck and whispered something in her ear.

Cash stalked naked across the living room to the spot on the floor where he’d ditched his pants.

It really sucked, losing Jen’s number. He’d had to buy a new phone the other day because the puddle killed his other one, but he’d hoped maybe his contacts had been updated on the cloud or some shit before it died. No such luck, though. The number was gone. Which was a real fucking shame. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that much fun with a woman. He’d been dying to see her ever since they’d parted ways at the Gaslamp Tavern, but he had no idea how to track her down.

You can’t. Deal with it.

Resignation fluttered through him and settled in his gut. Yeah, he needed to put Jen out of his mind. The chances of seeing her again were pretty much nonexistent, and as much as that sucked, he needed to face the facts.

With a weary exhale, he fished his new phone from one of the many pockets of his cargo pants. A moan caught his attention, and his gaze drifted to Dylan and Vanessa, who were still tangled together on the couch. Gripping the back of Dylan’s blond head, Vanessa held him in place as he kissed her breasts. Dylan’s mouth latched onto one dusky nipple, and he made a little growling sound of approval as he suckled her.

Despite his frustrated mood, Cash’s body responded to the scene in front of him.

“Ready for round two or are you abandoning us?” Vanessa teased when she caught him looking.

Cash winked. “Round two. Let me just check my messages.”

He glanced at his phone, cursing when he noticed the missed call on the screen. Carson Scott.

Shit, why was the lieutenant calling him? Did they have plans he’d forgotten about?

He was just punching in the code for his voice mail when the phone vibrated in his hand. Text message coming in. From…Carson Scott.

Frowning, Cash opened the message. Wariness crept up his spine as he skimmed the terse note.

Well, okay then. That didn’t sound good. And all caps? Definitely important.

He shot back a quick text saying he was on his way, then cast a rueful look in the direction of the couch, where Vanessa now lay on her back, legs spread wide. Kneeling on the floor, Dylan had his head buried between her thighs.

So much for round two.

“Actually, I gotta go,” Cash announced.

Dylan lifted his head long enough to mumble, “See you later,” then resumed feasting.

Lucky bastard.

Stifling a sigh, Cash got dressed and headed out the door.