A Little Bit of Hot (Out of Uniform) (3 page)

“For fuck’s sake, Texas, can’t you ever say a bad word about
anyone
? It won’t kill you.”

“My mama taught me some manners. Unlike yours.”

“Hey, my mom’s a showgirl. Thanks to her, I got to spy on half-naked dancers growing up. Way more useful than
manners
.”

Jackson slid into the driver’s seat. “You call just to snoop about my date or do you want anything else?”

“Miranda wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Seth chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’s not planning on springing another chick on you. She just wants to enjoy your company, God knows why. She said she misses you. So do the rugrats.”

He had to grin. “I saw them all a few days ago.”

“Hey, you should feel special. They like you the best out of everyone. Well, after Dylan. Soph and Jase are obsessed with that mofo. But Miranda likes you better, I think. She’s totally bought your aw-shucks-I’m-such-a-Southern-gentleman act.”

“Not an act,” he said smugly. “I’m a rare and remarkable specimen of a man.”

“Christ, I just want to slug you sometimes.”

“I dare you. I’d love to kick your ass again. Haven’t done it since that boxing match during Hell Week.”

Jackson smirked to himself, his mind straying to that victorious day when he’d demolished Seth in the ring. They’d been a pair of lowly recruits back then, strangers to each other. He remembered taking one look at the tall, scruffy man, listening to Seth’s trash talk and deciding that someone needed to put the smartass in his place. Ironically, they’d gone out for a beer afterwards and had been best buds ever since.

“That was a lucky shot,” Seth said darkly.

“That was pure skill. Dude, you went out like a light.”

“I notice you’ve never taken me up on my rematch challenges. Because you
know
that match was a fluke.”

“Mmm-hmmm. Whatever you say.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Come over around seven tomorrow. Miranda’s making fried chicken and mashed potatoes in your honor.”

The click in his ear told him Seth had hung up, which only widened his grin. There was only one thing Seth Masterson hated more than losing, and that was being
reminded
of losing.

Laughing to himself, Jackson headed for Imperial Beach, the quaint little beach town he called home. IB was close to the Coronado base, but far enough away that he didn’t feel isolated to one area. It was already claustrophobic enough living in a city. Even after six years in California, he missed his family’s cattle ranch. The endless acres of land, the winding dirt roads and open spaces, the fresh, unpolluted air.

He reached his street ten minutes later, turned right, and continued along the narrow road toward his tiny house. With its white clapboard exterior, rickety green shutters and uneven front stoop, the place wasn’t much to look at, but the interior was clean and cozy, and he loved it.

His porch light had burned out the day before and he hadn’t replaced it yet, so the front of the house was bathed in shadows as he approached the door. When a flash of color caught his peripheral vision, he turned his head and noticed the overflowing flowerbeds next door. His neighbors had been talking about hiring a landscaper for a while now, and the newly planted yellow tulips told him they’d finally gotten around to it.

He shifted his attention to unlocking the front door, but the second the key turned in the lock, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Something was off.

He didn’t know what exactly, but his eight years in the military had provided him with an internal alarm system that was highly reliable.

Every muscle in his body was coiled tight as he slowly opened the door. He entered the house silently, his combat boots not making a solitary sound as he walked across the rickety hardwood floor. The house was dark and quiet, the hallway empty. So was the living room, he discovered when he poked his head inside.

And yet his inner alarm continued to shriek like a banshee.

There was someone in the house. He
felt
it.

His heart continued to beat normally, his hands steady as he soundlessly crept into the living room and made a beeline for the small gun safe he kept on top of the tall oak bookshelf next to the couch.

His back went ramrod straight when a soft creak echoed in the house. It had come from his bedroom.

Shit. Someone was definitely here.

Jackson slid the nine-millimeter handgun out of its case. He didn’t check if it was loaded—he already knew it was. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to use the dang thing.

A moment later, he was moving stealthily down the hall again, heading in the direction of his bedroom. No light spilled from beneath the door, but another creak sounded from within. The telltale squeak of somebody shifting on the mattress.

He flattened himself against the wall, listening, waiting. Silence had fallen again, but the tingling hairs at his nape told him the intruder hadn’t gone anywhere.

Drawing an even breath, he reached out and curled the fingers of his left hand over the doorknob, gripped his weapon with his other hand and threw the door open with a sharp command.

“Don’t move, asshole!”

A frightened yelp pierced the air.

“Don’t shoot me! I just came to fuck!”

Confusion spiraled through him like a tornado, and he blinked several times to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The curvy lump on his bed moved, a shadowy whirl of arms and legs as his uninvited visitor scrambled to get off the mattress.

Jackson flipped the light switch, his jaw falling open when he laid eyes on the naked blonde. Well, actually, she wasn’t completely naked.

She
was
wearing a cowboy hat and a leather hip holster.

“What the
hell
are you doing here?” he burst out. “How did you get in?”

“The back door was unlocked,” the blonde sputtered. “I came to surprise you! Stop pointing that gun at me!”

Still gaping, he lowered his weapon and stared at the nude woman standing in front of him. It was the girl Savannah had set him up with. Dina, the sex addict.

And he’d almost fuckin’
shot
her.

“Please don’t be mad!” Dina pleaded. Her incredibly fake breasts didn’t so much as sway as she took a desperate step toward him. “I was just so horny tonight and I thought you’d be into it.”

He continued to stare at her, at a total loss for words.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

He stared.

“So, do you want to fuck?”

And stared some more.

“Fine, I guess not,” Dina said snidely. “I’ll just get dressed then. And just so you know, you’ve totally blown your chance with me. See this?” Smirking, she gestured to her naked body. “You’re never getting your hands on
any
of this.”

He honestly had no complaints about that.

Chapter Four

The next morning, Jackson stepped onto the porch, still wondering if the events of last night had been nothing more than a god-awful nightmare. Because he couldn’t have actually pulled a gun on a naked woman with a boob job, right?

Right?

Wrong, buddy. A sex addict broke into your house. This. Shit. Happened.

Something was seriously wrong with his life, he decided as he jogged down the stairs to grab the morning paper. At least it was Saturday, which meant he didn’t have to report to the base. He could spend the whole damn day lying on the couch and stewing about the state of emergency his love life had become.

As he bent down to pick up the rolled newspaper, he noticed a sky-blue pick-up parked in the driveway next door. A white logo with the words “Color Your Yard” graced the side of the truck.

Looked like Tom and Sarah’s gardener was back.

And Lordy, but his neighbors had fantastic taste in gardeners.

His eyes immediately zoomed in on the firm, round ass belonging to the petite woman kneeling in front of the long flowerbed lining the porch. Faded denim cutoffs hugged that fine backside and showed off a pair of tanned, shapely legs, and up top, she wore a yellow T-shirt and a blue baseball cap with a short ponytail sticking out the back.

Jackson straightened up and took a moment to admire the cute brunette, but his admiration rapidly transformed into bewilderment.

Was he nuts, or was the woman actually pressing her ear to the dirt and talking to a patch of bright yellow tulips?

Yup. She really was.

Intrigued, he watched as she scooted forward a few inches and yet again lowered her ear to the flowers.

“Oh, for the love of Hey-zeus,” he heard her grumbling. “Where are you, motherfucker?”

Jackson’s lips twitched in amusement. He walked closer to the strip of grass between the two houses, then cleared his throat to get the gardener’s attention.

Instantly, her head swiveled in his direction, and he found himself looking into a pair of aggravated green eyes. Very dark green, like the jungle bathed in shadows. She was as pretty from the front as she was from the back, with those catlike eyes, sharp cheekbones and pouty pink lips.

“Everything okay, sugar?” he called out.

“Not really,” she called back, her sexy lips puckered in a frown. “Hey, you mind if I borrow your ears,
sugar
?”

He raised his brows. “Beg your pardon?”

“Come over here and help me listen.”

Help her listen? He suddenly had to wonder if he was dealing with a crazy person. It would be a fitting follow-up to last night, that was for sure.

“Can I ask what we’re listening to?” he said when he reached her.

She had to tilt her head fully to meet his eyes. “Jeez Louise, you’re ridiculously
tall
.”

He flashed a smug grin. “Maybe you’re just ridiculously short.”

“I’m five-four. That’s average height.” She whipped off her cap and smoothed out the top of her dark hair. “How tall are you?”

“Six-five,” he admitted.

“Like I said, ridiculously tall. I’m talking to a giant.” She slanted her head pensively. “Do you play basketball?”

“Nope. Do you?”

“Sure, I shoot hoops every morning before work.”

“For real?”

She burst out laughing. “No, not for real. You actually believed me?”

His head started to spin, but truthfully, he was enjoying the exchange. He really liked her voice. It was oddly melodic. And despite being a foot shorter than him—which really did make him feel like a giant—she sure was easy on the eyes.

“Anyway, go over there,” the brunette said briskly, gesturing to the other end of the neatly planted row of bright tulips. “Tell me if you hear anything.”

He obligingly did as she asked, mostly because his curiosity had skyrocketed to a whole new level. He crouched down on the grass and brought his head close to the flowers, then glanced over and said, “What am I supposed to be hearing?”

“Well, if my brother is repeatedly dialing my phone like I ordered him to, then you should be hearing the faint strains of A-ha’s ‘Take On Me’. I’m really into 80’s pop.”

He stared at her for one long moment.

And then it dawned on him.

“Wait a sec—you buried your phone in the dirt?”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Not on
purpose
. It must have slipped out of my pocket when I was planting yesterday. Hazard of the job.” She got on her knees again. “Now, hush. I’d like to find my phone sometime this century. I drove all the way back here this morning and I have stuff to do today.”

Jackson swallowed his laughter and concentrated on becoming one with the dirt. When he didn’t hear a single sound, he shifted over and investigated a new cluster of tulips. A few seconds passed. And then the muffled sound of an 80’s keyboard wafted out of the flowerbed.

“Over here,” he told the brunette.

She was at his side in a heartbeat, a broad smile overtaking her face as she shoved a gardening spade into the dirt and started digging.

He watched in extreme amusement, then grinned when the metal spade connected with something solid. The pretty gardener promptly dropped the tool and shoved her hands in the soil. Her fingers emerged covered in dirt and triumphantly holding an iPhone in a sturdy black case.

“Hells yeah!” she exclaimed, waving the phone in his face. “We did it!”

The iPhone was still blaring out the cheesy ringtone, and she quickly wiped one hand on the front of her cutoff shorts before taking the call.

“Hey, Danny, it’s me. I found it.” She paused for a beat. “Call me a dum-dum again and I won’t bring home any breakfast. Yeah. Yeah, whatevs, dude. I’d like to see you try. Uh-huh. ’Kay. See you soon.”

After she hung up, she turned to Jackson with another grin. “Little brothers are such a pain in the ass.”

“Trust me, I know. I have a younger sister and she used to be a real pest. How old is your brother?”

“Sixteen. He can be a total shit sometimes, but for the most part, he’s a good kid.”