by Johnson, Cat
“Come on. Hop in and let’s go.” He moved to tug her toward the truck but she held back.
“Wait. I forgot how early it is. Will they even be open yet?” she asked.
He laughed. “Oh, yeah. Trust me. They’re open.”
And Raymond would be more than happy to see that Clay dove right in and had taken his advice.
He hadn’t wasted any time with Tasha. In fact, as long as they had an unexpected day off, maybe he’d take her back to her place and dive right in to something else.
It might have started out shitty, but today had turned out to be a very good day . . . and it wasn’t even half over yet.
On a whim, he pulled Tasha forward and crashed his mouth over hers, kissing her like he’d wanted to for awhile now.
When he finally released her, she said, “Wow.”
He smiled. “Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
EPILOGUE
“Good thing you’re home! I was about to grill up these steaks and eat without you.”
Tasha closed the front door and walked down the hall, toward the source of the booming voice that had greeted her.
Her mouth twitched with a smile as she spotted Clay in the kitchen, a dishtowel flung over his bare shoulder as, shirtless, he shucked an ear of corn.
The sight was enough to make her mouth water and it had nothing to do with the promise of the thick juicy steaks she’d spotted waiting to be grilled.
But Clay, shirtless and tempting, wasn’t enough to stop her from asking, “Where are my flamingos?”
They’d started as a joke, but she’d grown fond of them over the past month.
“Relax. I moved them to the back yard. I said you could keep them, but I didn’t say they could stay in front for everyone to see.”
“Fine.” Pouting, she put her shoulder bag on the kitchen counter and surveyed the array of fresh fruit and vegetables scattered around the kitchen. “Where’d all this come from?”
“I went to the grocery store and then stopped by the farmer’s market,” he said as he dumped the cornhusks into a bag.
“Wow. I never realized you were so domestic.”
Glancing at her, he cocked up a brow. “One of us needs to be.”
“Hey, I told you I didn’t cook the day you asked me to move in with you.” For real, not for the show.
“Yeah, see, that’s what I don’t understand. You did all those cooking segments on your show. How could you not pick up anything after all that?”
“You watched my old shows?” A wide smile spread across her face.
He rolled his eyes. “Not the point.”
She moved closer and rose on to her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer to him before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“And remember, I told you I don’t cook, not that I can’t cook,” she added with a smile.
He drew back to shoot her a scowl.
She glared right back at him. “And don’t you give me that look. You love to cook and you know it. As if you’d ever let me near that new grill of yours anyway.”
The damn thing smoked, barbecued, deep-fried, boiled and griddled. It did just about everything except buy the food—which Clay had obviously done in her absence.
Taking a step closer to the counter, she perused all that he’d made while she’d been gone. It looked amazing.
He’d gone to the grocery store many times before, but his visit to the farmer’s market was a surprise.
In fact, the weeks she’d been living in the house with Clay after the production had finished and the cameras removed had brought one surprise after another—the biggest being that the man was a big mush when it came to animals.
She walked to the other side of the room and glanced into the crate in the corner.
“Don’t you dare wake up Shelley. I just got her to sleep.”
Tasha shook her head. Clay’s baby, a nine-week old puppy he’d found abandoned on the beach during one of his early morning runs, snored while sleeping on her back amid a pillow and blankets.
He’d chosen her name himself, calling her Shelley because he’d found her on the beach amid the seashells.
Her tiny rounded belly was a testament to the fact Clay had made it his mission to put weight on the puppy. She’d been skin and bones when he’d found her. For two weeks he got out of bed in the middle of the night to feed her.
There was no doubt Shelley knew who’d saved her. She loved her daddy. When she was awake she followed him everywhere, like she was his shadow, and she did her best to sleep on top of him when she wasn’t in her crate.
But now that she was sleeping, Clay was all Tasha’s again. She moved back to him and wrapped her arms around him, laying her cheek on the hard muscles of his chest.
He wrapped both of his arms around her and kissed the top of her head again. This gentle version of Clay was also new, the opposite of the hard, violently passionate man she’d first met. Although, bits of that persona did reappear when they were in bed together.
“Where were you for so long?” he asked, squeezing her tight.
“I told you I had a hair appointment.”
He frowned. “That was at one. It’s like five now.”
She leaned back to look up at him. “Says the man who’s never had to sit through the hours-long process of getting highlights and lowlights put in his hair.”
Shaking his head, he looked horrified even at the suggestion. “Yeah, no.”
She laughed. “Good job sounding like a civilian though. You’re doing very well.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said one and five instead of one-hundred and five-hundred hours.”
His brows shot up. “Uh, thanks, but it would have been thirteen-hundred and seventeen-hundred.”
“Whatever.” She waved away his correction. “Anyway, I also stopped by my condo to get the mail.”
Clay released his hold on her and leaned back against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You are going to change your address at one point before it’s sold and the new owners move in, correct?”
“Yes, smarty pants. And for your information, I did change it on a bunch of things already. I just haven’t gotten around to changing it everywhere.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a padded envelope. “And if you’re not nice to me, I won’t let you see this.”
She pulled a DVD out of the envelope and held it up.
“And what’s that?” he asked, looking only mildly interested.
“It’s the first episode of Hot House. The production company sends them out early to the media—”
He launched himself off the counter and snatched it out of her hand before striding toward the television in the corner of the living room.
“Hey! I said only if you were nice to me I’d let you see it,” she teased.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I’ll be very nice to you later in bed. Right now, I need to see what the hell Joanne did during edits so I’m prepared for when that show airs next week.”
Clay juggled the two remote controls—one for the TV and one for the DVD player. When she hung back in the kitchen and didn’t follow him into the living room, he frowned back at her. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to see?”
“Don’t you want to eat first and watch it later?” she suggested.
His frown deepened. “No. I won’t be able to enjoy those steaks until I know what I’m up against.”
Tasha was the exact opposite. If they didn’t watch it yet, she could still believe that she and Clay both came out of this looking great. But if they did watch it and they didn’t come out looking good—what then?
Clay would be mad. Her career could be over—again.
He was still trying—and failing—to get the DVD to play. He’d figure it out eventually so she decided she might as well end his frustration and help.
She sighed and went to him.
“Give me those.” She took both remotes from his hands and quickly navigated to the correct input setting. “And I want an apology from you for mocking me that I still own a DVD player when, as you put it, everyone in this decade streams instead. I told you we’d use it.”
She paused, refusing to press play as she glanced at him and waited for her apology.
Clay blew out a huff. “I apologize. You were right. I’ll make that up to you later too. Okay?”
As much as she enjoyed keeping Clay waiting, as much as she liked all the promises he was making about what pleasures were to come later when they retired to the new king-sized bed he’d bought for his room, she did as he’d asked.
She pressed the play button and tossed both remotes onto the coffee table in front of the white sofa they’d brought over from her condo.
Clay stayed standing, his eyes glued to the screen. She understood how he felt. She had too much nervous energy herself to relax, but she managed to perch on the edge of the sofa cushion as she watched.
She’d already seen the opening credits—all shots of her and Clay, looking great. That wasn’t the part she was worried about. It was the actual show that concerned her, where manipulation of the raw footage could go any way the producers decided it should.
It was in the editing process where reality shows’ characters were defined, both the villains and the heroes.
This first half hour episode would set up the show and determine how they’d be portrayed.
What if they’d made her look like a fool? Worse than that, what if they had made Clay look bad?
Unable to sit still, Tasha rose and moved around the coffee table to stand next to Clay.
He uncrossed his arms and wrapped one around her. The contact made her feel better. Whatever was on this DVD, they’d deal with it together.
It felt as if she held her breath for the full twenty-two minutes of the episode waiting for—something—but there were really no surprises.
They of course made sure to make Tasha a complete fish out of water. Out of her element in a construction zone amid all the manly men.
That was fine. She could deal with that because she knew later in the project she’d learned enough to hold her own among the men. And she’d also shine during the decorating portions.
Clay came off sexy as hell. No doubt they were playing to the females who made up a good portion of the network’s viewers.
As the closing credits came on, Clay let out a breath and glanced down at her. “Okay. That wasn’t so bad.”
“Nope,” she agreed, letting out a breath of her own.
“This season on Hot House . . .” The voiceover caught her attention again.
Clay’s too as he turned and they both watched a montage of what was going to be featured on the rest of the season’s episodes.
What flashed across the screen went from bad to worse as Clay took a step closer to the television and muttered obscenities as he watched, each curse more colorful than the last.
She couldn’t blame him as her cheeks burned.
All the times they’d thought they’d been fooling everyone by sneaking around, they hadn’t fooled a soul.
The night vision cameras apparently had very sensitive microphones. They’d recorded her session with B.O.B. in the bathroom. Night vision had caught Clay's reaction to hearing her, as well as his stalking out of his room and into the bathroom. And then they’d recorded the sounds of the two of them having sex in the bathroom.
The preview at the end of the episode seemed to stretch on forever and the more it showed, the angrier Clay got. She could feel the rage radiating off him as her own face burned.
“Son of a bitch. They counted the condoms?” he boomed as a close-up shot of the open condom box in the medicine cabinet filled the screen.
“They were a major sponsor,” Tasha offered, only to receive a glare from Clay. When the promo finally ended, she said, “At least it seems your jammer worked. I didn’t see or hear anything from those nights."
“No, just the daily morning-after shot of how many condoms we’d used the night before.” He shook his head. “The mother fuckers made us look like rutting animals. No, worse, we look like those idiots on those other reality shows, sneaking around to have sex and thinking no one will see.”
As Clay ranted, Tasha kicked off her shoes and reached for the button on her jeans.
He finally looked at her. “What are you doing?”
“Getting naked.”
“Why?” He frowned.
“Sex is extra good with you when you’re angry.”
“Shut up. It is not.” He scowled then glanced at her from beneath lowered brows. “Is it?”
“Mmm, hmm.” Her lips twitched as her bra hit the floor.
“Is that why it seemed like you were trying to annoy me most days we were filming?”
“Maybe.” She pushed him backward until he collapsed back onto the sofa. Smiling, she crawled into his lap.
He frowned. “Dammit, woman. Stop enjoying this. I’m pissed off.”
“I know. How about you just give in? You know you enjoy sex when you’re angry too.”
“No—”
She shook her head, cutting him off as he tried to deny it. His cock grew beneath her, proving her correct.
He ignored it and continued, “It has nothing to do with me being angry. Sex is always good.”
“Yes, but not like that first night in the bathroom. When you knocked on that door, you were—”
“Insane. That wasn’t anger, sweetheart. That was insanity caused by my having to be awake and alone in my bed while listening to you in the next room.”
“Whatever it was, I liked it.” She reached between them and trailed a finger over the fabric of the shorts covering his growing length. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband and he muttered a curse.
Eyes narrowed, he reached for her hips and pressed her tighter against him. “You know, you don’t have to make me mad to drive me crazy. There’s a much easier way. It might make our life together a little easier in the future.”
Our life together combined with the word future sent her heart fluttering. She tried not to overreact to those words and keep her cool even as her heart pounded faster.
“Oh? And what’s that?” she asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
“All you have to do is wear those pajama pants you had at the house.”
“Those? There’s nothing sexy about those. They’re so old I was thinking about throwing them out.”
“I beg to differ. You make them very sexy.”
“I guess I’d better keep them then. I’ll have to sew them though, because I found a hole in the butt. Hmm. I suppose I could find some cute fabric to sew over it. Or, ooo, one of those cute embroidered patches—”
“Tasha. Stop talking.” Clay rubbed his length over her most sensitive spot as his mouth crashed against hers.
In a smooth, practiced, very SEAL-like move, he flipped her over and pinned her beneath him as she shoved his shorts lower.
Those steaks, and everything else, were definitely going to have to wait a little while.
Dear Reader,
I hope you loved reading Clay and Tasha’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
What should you read next? Check out the Hot SEALs and the For Hire series for more hot alpha heroes and the sassy heroines brave enough to love them.
See everything available from Cat at
CatJohnson.net
HOT SEALS
Night with a SEAL
Saved by a SEAL
SEALed at Midnight
Kissed by a SEAL
Protected by a SEAL
Loved by a SEAL
Tempted by a SEAL
Wed to a SEAL
Romanced by a SEAL
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Betting on a Hot SEAL
Escape with a Hot SEAL
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SEAL the Deal
Hot SEAL in Hollywood
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FOR HIRE
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Hot Chick for Hire
Spy for Hire
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More Military Men!
RED HOT & BLUE
Red Blooded
Smalltown Heat
A Few Good Men
BB Dalton
Model Soldier
A Prince Among Men
True Blue
MEN IN UNIFORM
Crossing the Line
Cinderella Liberty
Hot Cowboys!
STUDS IN SPURS
Unridden
Bucked
Ride
Hooked
Flanked
Thrown
Champion
Spurred
Wrecked
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SEALS IN PARADISE
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A top 10 New York Times bestselling author, Cat Johnson writes the USA Today bestselling Hot SEALs series, as well as contemporary romance featuring sexy alpha heroes, who often wear cowboy or combat boots, and the sassy heroines brave enough to love them. Known for her creative marketing, Cat has sponsored bull-riding cowboys, used bologna to promote her romance novels, and owns a collection of camouflage and cowboy boots for book signings. She writes both full length and shorter works.
For more visit CatJohnson.net
HOT SEAL, DIRTY MARTINI
CAT JOHNSON
Copyright© 2018 Cat Johnson
