Feeling Hot (23 page)

He broke the kiss, trying not to dwell on his troubling thoughts. “What’s on the agenda for today? I’m meeting the guys around four to work out, but what should we do until then?”

Her expression instantly hardened. “I want to talk to Carson.”

“Did you call him?”

She nodded. “His cell went to voicemail. I called the apartment, but nobody answered there either. I left a message, though. I was tempted to say it had to do with Brendan, just to guarantee he’d call back, but I felt bad making him worry so I said I needed to see him ASAP but that everything was okay. He hasn’t called back yet.” Her face clouded over. “Maybe he’s busy with his
angel
.”

“Jen,” he chided.

“I know, I know. There
must
be an explanation,” she mimicked.

Cash stifled a sigh and changed the subject. “Okay, so what do you want to do until he gets back to you?”

She grabbed an elastic band from the toiletry kit on the counter and twisted her blonde hair into a loose bun. “I guess I can hand out some more resumes.”

“Nobody’s gotten back to you, huh?”

Her frustration was evident. “Nope.”

“Well, it’s only been a day.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. I wasn’t thrilled about any of the stores we went to. Besides, I hate sales.” She shoved the hairbrush in the toiletry bag and blew past him.

Cash noted the sag of her shoulders as he followed her into the kitchen, where she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it.

“Maybe I should apply for more office jobs,” she said after she took a sip of water. “I worked as a receptionist at a dental office a few years ago, and it wasn’t so bad.”

“Or you could do something with photography,” he suggested.

She faltered. “What?”

“Apply at the local papers, submit your stuff to magazines, contests.” He met her baffled eyes. “You’re a damn good photographer. Why don’t you find out if you can make a career out of it?”

“A career?” Now she looked surprised. “I’m not good enough to be a professional feature photographer, Cash.”

“Says who?”

Her brows puckered. “It’s only a hobby. I’ve never taken any classes or studied photography. I don’t know any fancy techniques, or even the proper names for half the stuff I do on my camera.”

“So? Your work speaks for itself. At least put yourself out there before you decide you’re not good enough.”

“I guess.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s just not very practical. I can’t see how I’d make enough money to support myself.”

“Says who?” he repeated. “Because you’re sounding a lot like your parents right now.”

He tried to mask his anger, but it was difficult when he remembered the condescending way her parents had spoken about her photographs. Or the way they’d treated Jen—like she was a failure, a disappointment to them.

“I…” She swallowed. “It’s…a hobby, Cash. And I’m not good with rejection—what if I send work out and everyone hates it?”

“Then everyone hates it.” He shrugged. “At least you’ll know that you tried.”

“And failed,” she muttered.

“That kind of attitude isn’t conducive to success, babe. See, you’ve got yourself failing before you’ve even given it a shot. Coming up with excuses not to go after what you want won’t achieve a damn thing.”

“Excuses? I’m not—”

“Yes you are,” he interrupted, his tone coming out harsher than he’d intended. “You’re scared to put yourself out there. I get it. And I’m not surprised it never occurred to you to turn your hobby into a career. I think your parents commented on your
silly
pictures half a dozen times when we went over there. Don’t tell me that didn’t annoy you.”

Her shoulders drooped. “Of course it did, but—”

“But nothing. Your parents act like you’re disappointing them because you aren’t doing what
they
want you to do, and all that criticism can’t be good for your self-esteem. But I’ve seen your photographs, and trust me, they
are
good enough. So man up and go after what you want, Jen.”

His speech was rewarded by a deafening silence.

Jen stared at him, visibly shocked and confused.
 

Fuck. Had he really just told her to
man up
?

His tendency not to sugarcoat was the reason so many of his past relationships had failed. He’d discovered long ago that women didn’t want the truth—they wanted a man who’d shower them with compliments and tell them everything was fine and dandy. But Jen was so open and honest with him that he’d let down his guard. He’d stopped carefully weighing every word and started openly speaking his mind.

Cash cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. That might have come out a little harsh.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then her cell phone rang.

“Um, I’ll just…get that.”

He winced as she bulldozed past him. He knew he’d screwed up, but damn it, she was too talented to let her parents’ criticism deter her from doing what she loved.

Too bad he hadn’t been able to convey that with a little more tact.

Jen answered the phone with an overly cheerful, “Hey Tessa, what’s up?” Then she paused, listened, and said,
“What?”

Foreboding crawled through him. Cash went to her side and made out a tinny female voice on the extension, talking a million miles a minute.

“Speakerphone,” he said.

Jen clicked a button, and the panicked voice became audible.

“—I gave him your number. I’m so sorry. I panicked, and he was so angry I thought he might hurt me. I’ve—”

“It’s okay,” Jen interrupted. “I understand—”

“—never seen anyone look so crazy. I know I shouldn’t have given him your new number, but you should’ve seen his face. He had crazy eyes and he was breathing hard, like he’d just run a marathon or something. It was the freakiest thing—”

Jen cut in again. “Tessa…
Tessa
…calm down.”

A heavy breath sounded on the line.

“You were scared,” Jen said gently. “I totally understand. Where are you now?”

“Back at the office. I ran all the way here from the restaurant. My boss will never invite me to lunch again, that’s for sure.”

A beep cut through Tessa’s last sentence. Call waiting.

Squaring his jaw, Cash signaled for Jen to ignore it, then leaned into the mouthpiece to address her friend. “Tessa? This is Cash McCoy. Jen’s staying with me until Brendan leaves town. Do you feel like he might come after you again?”

“No,” came the wobbly response. “He was adamant about getting Jen’s number, that’s all. He also demanded to know where she was staying, but I pretended I didn’t know. I made up a story about her brother whisking her off and how none of her friends have had contact with her for a week.”

“Good,” Cash said. “Stick to that story if he bothers you again. Your office has security?”

“Yes.”

“If he shows up there, get security involved. If he approaches you outside of work, call the police. I don’t want him making a habit of hitting you up for information.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Tessa said. “Jen?”

“I’m here,” Jen spoke up.

“I’m so sorry. I panicked.”

“Hey, I told you already, it’s fine. Brendan is my problem, not yours. I’m sorry he cornered you like that.”

“It’s not your fault, hon.” Tessa sighed. “That man is certifiable, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

The two women said goodbye, and after she hung up, Jen checked her phone display to find out who’d called. Her scowl was all the answer Cash needed.

“Brendan’s office number,” she muttered, releasing an annoyed breath. “Looks like I have to change my cell number. Again.”

An idea niggled at the back of his mind. “Call him back.”

Her eyes widened. “Why would I do that?”

“Because enough is enough,” Cash said tersely. “This creep has already showed up at your parents’ house, and now he’s harassing your friends. Someone needs to have a little chat with him.”

“And what, that someone will be you?”

“Yep.”

“Forget it. The best way to get him off my back is to ignore him. If you confront him, you’ll only rile him up.”

No, but he might
rough
him up.

Probably best not to mention that. Using violence as a method of problem solving wasn’t something he did often—not in his personal life, anyway. But Psycho McGee had already scared Jen out of her apartment, bombarded her email address with his nonsense, harassed her parents, and now he was causing trouble for her friends? The asshole was long overdue for a wake-up call, and Cash had no problem giving it to him.

“Call him back,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Jen looked frazzled. “And say what?”

“Tell him you want to meet him when he gets off work.”

“What? No.”

He ignored her protest. “Say you want to sit down and hash all this out. Arrange to meet at the Gaslamp Tavern.”

“Cash—”

“Just do it, Jen.”

“This is insane,” she said, but she still reached for her phone.

“Be polite, tell him it’s time for the two of you to talk, but don’t lead him on,” Cash warned.

“Lead him on? It’ll be a challenge not to yell every swear word in the book at him.” She dialed, pressed send, and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Speaker,” he ordered.

Rolling her eyes, she pressed a button and lowered the phone.

Jen’s ex picked up on the first ring, sounding overjoyed. “Jen! Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad you called.”

Cash’s shoulders stiffened.
Sweetie?

No fucking way, buddy. She is
not
your sweetie
.

Her lips tightened. “Hello, Brendan.”

“You spoke to Tessa, didn’t you?” Brendan’s deep, slightly gravelly voice held a note of unmistakable guilt. “I know I scared her and I really regret that. I was just going out of my mind not knowing where you were. I get why you moved out and why you filed the restraining order. I know you were freaked out about the notes and the flowers, but I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wanted to make a grand romantic gesture, you know? Show you how much I still love you.”

Jen listened to the entire speech without comment. The angry glint didn’t leave her blue eyes, but her voice remained cordial as she said, “Well, I
was
freaked out. Forgive me if your
grand romantic gestures
were a tad overwhelming.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said again. “But you called back, so that means you’re not angry anymore, doesn’t it?”

“No, I’m still angry,” she answered coolly.

Cash sent her an unspoken warning with his eyes.

“But I do think we should meet,” she added in a forced voice.

“You do?” Happiness reverberated through the extension.

“We need to sit down and talk about this, Brendan.”

“That’s a good idea, sweetie. When do you want to do it?”

“As soon as possible. Maybe today when you’re done with work?”

The muffled sound of typing filled the line. “My last client appointment is at five. I’ll be finished by six. Should I come to you?”

“No.” Her tone came out sharp. “I’d rather we meet somewhere public.”

A pause. “I understand.”

“Meet me at that new bar on Market and 5th. The Gaslamp Tavern,” Jen said. She shot Cash a brief look, and from her pink cheeks, he knew she was remembering the night they’d met. “How about six thirty?”

“Six thirty is perfect.” Brendan sounded choked up. “Thank you. I know if you just give me a chance to explain, we can fix this.”

As promised, Jen didn’t lead him on. Not even an inch. “I’ll see you later, Brendan.” Then she disconnected and turned to Cash. “Happy?”

“No, not really,” he answered darkly. “That creep is clearly obsessed with you.”

“You’re the one who wants to meet him.” She dropped the phone on the table and took a step away.

“Wait.” He gulped. “About what I said before. I know I was harsh, but—”

“It’s fine,” she cut in. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

Cash reached out for her, but she sidestepped him and put a few more feet of distance between them. “I’m going to work on my laptop for a bit. I want to look through some more job ads.”

Guilt pricked his insides as she stalked toward the bedroom. Shit. He’d definitely hurt her with the accusation that she didn’t have the guts to follow her dream, but as usual, his brain-to-mouth filter had failed him.

Frustrated, he ran a hand over his scalp. Times like these, he wished he possessed Dylan’s charm, or the ability to sweet-talk the birds out of the damn trees like Jackson. But no, apparently he was destined to wreck every relationship by being too damn honest.

This isn’t a relationship. It’s a fling with an end date, remember?

And boy, didn’t that reminder make his spirits plummet even lower.