A Little Bit of Hot (Out of Uniform) (2 page)

“I know exactly what you mean,” Dylan agreed.

Jackson stayed silent, the frustration building in his gut once more. He didn’t begrudge his buddies their happiness, but it seemed unfair that he was the odd man out. Out of all of them, he’d always been the furthest thing from a player. While his friends had slept around and engaged in numerous threesomes and fourgies, he’d been the one looking for something more. Something
real
.

And now here he was, still single, and surrounded by three former playboys who were now blissfully content in their committed relationships.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little envious.

A little?

Fine. Maybe more than a little. Maybe he was jealous as hell.

“You know what, give her my number,” he blurted out, interrupting Cash and Dylan’s discussion.

They shot him a blank look.

“Jen’s friend,” he told Cash. “You can give her my number.”

“For real?”

Jackson nodded in defeat.

Lord, he really did hate set-ups, but… At this point, what did he have to lose?

Chapter Two

One week later

“Hey, Texas!” Miranda Masterson chirped over the extension. “Got a sec?”

Jackson hid his surprise as he balanced his cell phone on one shoulder and flipped a pancake on the stove in his tiny kitchen. Seth’s wife hardly ever called him, and the sound of her overly cheerful voice raised his hackles a bit.

Why did he get the feeling he wasn’t going to like what she had to say?

“What’s up, sugar?” he said carefully.

“So listen… I know your date with Jen’s friend was a total bust—”

“Oh, you mean because I spent three hours listening to the poor girl cry about how much she missed her ex?”

“Yeah, that.” Miranda sounded like she was fighting laughter. “But Seth said you’re still open to set-ups and I honestly think I have the perfect woman for you.”

He doubted it, but he was too much of a gentleman to say it out loud. “Yeah? And who is this perfect woman?”

“Ginny Stevens. She’s one of the instructors at my school, and she’s absolutely fabulous. I think you two would really hit it off.”

Jackson hesitated. The date Jen had found for him hadn’t panned out, but in all honesty, he trusted Miranda’s judgment a lot more than McCoy’s girlfriend’s. Jen was amazing, but she was also flighty at times, while Miranda had a solid head on her shoulders and was a keen judge of character.

“Yeah, I guess I could ask her out,” he said thoughtfully.

“Great! Because you’re having dinner with her tonight.”

A laugh flew out. “Wow. You were that confident I’d say yes, huh?”

“Yup.” Miranda rattled off the information about the dinner she’d arranged, then signed off with, “Call me when you get home to tell me how it went!”

Jackson was still chuckling to himself as he hung up the phone and finished making his breakfast. He was due at the base in twenty minutes, and though he hadn’t been looking forward to a day of classroom demos, knowing he had a date tonight kind of brightened his mood. After that sob-fest with Jen’s friend, he was craving some good company and a conversation that didn’t involve any tears.

And who knew. Maybe Ginny Stevens would actually be the one.

Eight hours later

Ginny Stevens was not the one.

Jackson had been trying to remain optimistic for the past two hours, but he could no longer ignore the truth.

Across the booth, the petite, gray-eyed blonde was gazing at him like he was a winning lottery ticket and she had all the right numbers.

When he still didn’t respond, some of the light in her eyes dimmed.

“That freaked you out, didn’t it?” she said ruefully.

He reached for his glass and took a long sip of Coke, all the while wishing it was whiskey. Or absinthe. Or maybe the date rape drug so he wouldn’t have to remember any of this.

“Uh, yeah, a little,” he confessed, shifting awkwardly on the hard vinyl bench.

“It’s just…well, I know when something feels right. And this feels right. You and me…us…know what I mean?”

No. No, he did not.

Because what woman in her right mind told a man she was falling for him within
two hours
of meeting?

“Ginny…” He cleared his throat, wondering how on earth he was going to disentangle himself from this situation. “Listen, darlin’, you seem like a really great person, you’re sweet and smart and funny, but…um…”

Her gray eyes promptly filled with tears. “Are you breaking up with me?”

God help him.

Three days later

“Okay, so I know it didn’t work out with Miranda’s friend, but I think I found the perfect woman for you.”

The confidence in Claire McKinley’s voice was unmistakable, and not at all surprising considering Dylan’s girlfriend was the most confident person Jackson had ever met. He supposed that Claire’s position as a consultant who advised businesses on how to run more efficiently contributed to her air of self-assurance, but after his last two disastrous dates, he was growing more and more skeptical when it came to believing his friends.

“Jackson, you there?”

He flopped down on the living-room couch and leaned his head back. “Yeah, sugar, I’m here. So, who is she?”

“Her name’s Monica. She’s a friend of mine from the gym, a personal trainer. We got to talking the other day and she said she’s tired of all the jerks she’s been meeting lately. She wants a real man, one who’s into all that chivalry stuff but also strong enough to handle a strong woman. I think you totally fit that bill.” Claire paused. “Oh, and she’s really hot, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but that’s good to know.” His tone remained noncommittal.

“So do you want her number? I promise you, she’s a really cool girl. Not crazy in the slightest. Very well-adjusted.”

He had to smile. “Fine. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give her a ring.”

“Yay! I’m so glad you said that, because she’s expecting your call.
And
she’s totally free tonight…”

Three hours later

“How much do you press?”

Jackson stared at the incredibly fit brunette seated across from him in the cozy Italian restaurant he’d chosen for their date.

“What?” he asked in confusion.

Monica toyed with the end of her long braid, which was hanging over one shoulder. “Bench-press,” she clarified. “You know, weight training. You must do some weight training to stay in such amazing shape, no?”

“Ah, no. I don’t lift a lot of weights. Most of our training is done outside of the gym.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What’s your regimen? And your carb intake?”

“Uh…” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t pay attention to carbs or diet. But I work out every day.”

“Walk me through your routine.”

For the duration of the date, he listed off everything he did in terms of exercise, while Monica offered feedback and criticism that he certainly hadn’t asked for but couldn’t deny was valuable.

By the time the waiter dropped off their bill, he was no closer to finding a romantic partner.

But he did have a new personal trainer.

Four days later

“Don’t say no until you hear me out!” The plea came from Annabelle Holmes, the fiancée of Ryan Evans, another one of Jackson’s teammates.

When Annabelle’s number had flashed on his phone, he’d nearly ignored the call. Because really, there was only one reason Annabelle would be calling. Seemed like the only time his phone ever rang these days was when one of his buddies’ wives or girlfriends had found “the perfect woman” for him.

Jen, Miranda and Claire had already had their turns.

Holly, his lieutenant’s wife, had thrown her candidate’s hat in the ring three days ago, which resulted in Jackson kneeling in front of a toilet and holding back his date’s hair after she’d had one drink too many at the bar where they’d arranged to meet.

Oh, and Matt O’Connor’s fiancée Savannah had produced a busty blonde who’d confessed halfway through dinner that she was a sex addict.

Gee, he couldn’t wait to hear what Annabelle had in store for him.

“Darlin’, I think I’m done with the matchmaking thing,” he grumbled into the phone. “These last two weeks have been torture.”

“I know, but I promise you Jeannine’s different. I’ll even email you a link to her Facebook page so you can see what she’s like before you agree to anything. Will you look at it? Please?”

After a moment of hesitation, he let out a breath, feeling beaten. “Fine. I’ll take a look.”

The next evening

“So then I was, like, O-M-G, did this woman
really
think that someone with my facial structure could pull off bangs? My forehead is way too short for bangs! And not just bangs, but
baby
bangs! I swear, I looked absolutely horrible. And they were too short to clip back, so I had no choice but to wear them down all the time. It took
months
before they grew out. So yeah, I’m
never
going back to that salon, that’s for sure.”

Jackson politely sipped his beer as the blue-eyed blonde across the table shot him an incredulous look.

“Can you believe that?” she demanded, her mindless anecdote finally—
finally
—coming to an end.

“Sounds like a terrible experience, sugar,” he replied, all the while praying that the waiter returned with their check soon.

Compared to his other dates of late, this one hadn’t been too bad—at least until Jeannine opened her mouth.

When Annabelle had sent him Jeannine’s profile picture, the woman’s fresh-faced, girl-next-door exterior proved that his friends knew him well. Jeannine was exactly his type—a woman unconcerned with painting on layers of makeup or donning fancy clothes. A woman whose Facebook “likes” included football, Bud Light, and Sunday barbecues.

In other words, the woman of his dreams.

But after spending more than an hour with her, he doubted the girl had ever seen a football game in her life, drank anything other than the daiquiri she was sipping, and since she’d ordered a starter salad for dinner and claimed to be a vegetarian, he couldn’t envision her ever scarfing down a burger or a rack of ribs at a barbeque.

Only went to show that everything you read on the Internet was pure and total horseshit.

“It
was
terrible,” she said, nodding fervently. “But the point of this story—”

Wait, there’d actually been a
point
to this nonsense?

“—is that if I hadn’t switched hairdressers, I wouldn’t have met Eileen, and then I never would have introduced her to my brother Rob, and the two of them wouldn’t be happily married now.” She beamed. “So I guess the answer to your question is
yes
. I
totally
believe in fate.”

Jackson resisted the urge to pull his own hair out. He’d completely forgotten about the question he’d posed, thanks to that twenty-five minute discussion about bangs. No, he had to amend—
baby bangs
, whatever the heck those were.

Lord, he was ready to go. More than ready, in fact.

And after today, he refused to let his friends set him up ever again.

Chapter Three

Jackson’s cell phone rang right after he’d walked Jeannine to her car and said goodbye. She’d tried weaseling a second date out of him, but he’d held his ground, telling her he was too busy with work at the moment. Not a complete lie; as an active-duty Navy SEAL, he was on the base often, honing his skills through training ops and classroom exercises. But since the team had recently come home after a long deployment, technically he had more than enough time to date. God knew he’d been dating up a storm these past two weeks, to no avail.

Jeannine had looked disappointed, but he’d refused to let those big blue eyes sucker him in. Instead, he’d planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, closed the door for her and waved as she’d sped out of the restaurant parking lot.

Now, he glanced at the phone display, saw Seth’s number and reluctantly answered.

“So how did date number a hundred go?” Seth’s raspy voice demanded. “Did you finally meet the fabled Mrs. Texas?”

He rolled his eyes at his friend’s mocking tone. “Not a chance. I was actually considering utilizing that dumbass system you and Dylan came up with. You know, where you fake a call from the base.”

“Shit. Struck out again, huh?”

“She’s a sweet girl. Just ain’t the one.”

He headed for his black pick-up truck, which looked out of place amidst the sedans and convertibles in the lot. But even though he’d left Abbott Creek years ago to move to San Diego, he was still a good ol’ Texas boy at heart, and no self-respecting Texan drove anything but a pick-up.