Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 1-3

by Kennedy, Elle

  He couldn’t help wondering if he was being reckless. Maybe even foolish. Jane would be leaving in two days, heading back to LA, a good two-hour drive from Coronado. How would they ever even see each other? Which one of them would make the commute? Would Jane even consider doing it?

  He forced himself not to dwell on the minor details. There was no point in thinking about any of that until he knew if Jane was even willing to continue their relationship once she left. Fuck, he hoped she would. Carson and Holly had made him realize how unfair he’d been to her. Her resemblance to Alice, now that he thought about it, was pretty fucking flimsy. Big deal, so they shared some common personality traits. When it came to the traits that mattered, Jane was not Alice, and never would be.

  He parked the SUV in the guest lot and got out. His palms grew damp as he pulled his phone from his pocket. It was only a quarter to ten. Jane probably wasn’t asleep yet. He dialed the front desk and asked to be connected to her room, but the anticipation fizzled after the tenth ring, when Jane still hadn’t picked up. She’d either fallen asleep, or simply wasn’t taking any calls.

  It didn’t even occur to him that she might not be in her room, not until the sound of a car engine caught his attention. An olive-green Jeep Cherokee pulled into the parking lot, and Becker’s breath froze in his lungs when he spotted the two familiar figures in the vehicle. He discreetly ducked between his SUV and the minivan beside it, forcing his pulse to slow. Fuck. That couldn’t have been Jane in that Jeep. Sitting next to Ryan Evans.

  He peered out from his hiding spot, his hands curling into fists as he received confirmation. Across the lot, Evans hopped out of the Jeep, then bounded toward the passenger door to help Jane out. She tripped and stumbled into Ryan’s arms, letting out a laugh that echoed through the deserted lot and hardened Becker’s veins.

  He stood there, frozen in place, as Ryan wrapped his arm around Jane’s shoulders and bent to say something in her ear. She laughed again, and then the two of them headed for the path leading toward the hotel.

  Becker watched them go, unable to move, unable to stop the simultaneous jolts of anger and betrayal.

  One day. That’s all it had taken for her to hook up with another man. And here he was, pining over her for the past twenty-four hours, second-guessing his decision to end things, coming here to win her back. What a fucking moron he was. What did he expect, that she’d be missing him too? She’d said so herself. She liked sex. And she’d been attracted to Evans. Not to mention her admission that she’d never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months.

  Well, theirs had lasted a full week.

  He slowly uncurled his fists, sucking in a long breath. Fuck. He needed to calm down. Needed to restrain himself, before he lost control, marched over to Jane’s room and punched Ryan’s lights out. Getting angry wouldn’t achieve a goddamn thing. Either way, he’d completely deluded himself into thinking he and Jane could have something serious. How could they? Jane wasn’t serious. She was fun and flirty and fucking another man right at this very moment. How could he get serious with a woman like that?

  Tightening his jaw, he tore his gaze away from the direction Jane and Evans had gone. As much as it hurt to see them together, at least it’d snapped some sense into him. He and Jane had fucked for a week, and now she’d found a new bedmate. Big deal. He’d get over it.

  He’d get over her.

  He let out a ragged breath, straightened his shoulders and headed to his cottage, all the while trying to convince himself that getting over Jane would be absolutely no trouble at all.

  9

  “Okay, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or should I tell Mom and Dad so they can harass you about it?” Jane’s sister demanded, her hands on her hips as she loomed over Jane.

  Jane had been lying on her comfy couch, a carton of ice cream in her lap, when her sister had marched into her apartment as if she owned the place and started the interrogation. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Jane said defensively, sliding up into a cross-legged position. “I took a week off work so I could chill out for a while. Why is that cause for concern?”

  “Because you never take time off,” Liz said, her blonde ponytail flipping as she plopped down on the couch. “You’ve practically lived in your office for the past two years.”

  “Well, I needed a break.” She jammed her spoon into the carton and brought out a scoop of cookie dough ice cream, which she swirled around in her mouth before swallowing. God, ice cream was the best thing ever. She’d been back in LA for a week now, and so far the only thing that had managed to cheer her up was ice cream.

  “Why?” Liz pressed. “What happened in San Diego, Janie? You’ve been depressed ever since you got back.”

  “I’m not depressed.”

  “Sad, then.”

  “I’m not sad.”

  Liz groaned with frustration. “I will call Mom. She’ll get the truth out of you.”

  Jane sighed. She set down the carton on the glass coffee table and turned to her sister. “Fine, I’ll tell you what’s wrong, but please don’t tell Mom, okay?”

  Triumph lit her sister’s eyes. “I knew something was wrong. Tell me everything.”

  Jane spilled her guts. She told Liz all about Becker, the wild sex, her growing feelings for him, how he’d ended it before it could even begin. She finished by confessing how she’d spent her final night in San Diego—drunker than drunk. She left out the part about Ryan being there, since it wasn’t important. Nope, the only truly important thing was how desperately she missed Thomas Becker.

  “Then call him,” Liz said when Jane voiced the thought out loud.

  “I can’t. He made it clear he doesn’t see a future with me. He wants some perfect, obedient little housewife who’ll pop out half a dozen babies for him, and we both know I’m neither perfect nor obedient,” she said wryly.

  Her sister grinned. “No, obedient you most certainly are not. Not perfect either, but…” Liz’s voice was laced with affection as she said, “You’re an amazing woman, Janie. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  “Too bad the one I want doesn’t see it that way.”

  She went for the ice cream again, but Liz intercepted her, pushing the carton out of reach. “Thomas Becker is obviously an idiot. If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  Jane didn’t answer. Liz was probably right, but that didn’t mean she could simply erase her feelings for Becker. It was so messed up. She’d only spent a week with the man. One freaking week, yet she’d connected with him in a way she never had with any other man.

  “Come on, get up,” Liz ordered. She stood and held out her hand. “Let’s go.”

  Jane allowed her sister to help her to her feet. “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere. You need to get out of the apartment and stop thinking about Becker.”

  She glanced down at her ratty sweatpants. “I’m not even dressed.”

  “Then get dressed. We’ll go get a manicure or see a movie, or just walk down Sunset and window shop.”

  “I don’t—”

  “No argument,” Liz interrupted. “Now get dressed so we can work on helping you put Thomas Becker right out of your mind, okay?”

  The image of Becker’s serious face and spectacular body floated into her mind, eliciting a spark of hurt. She quickly pushed it aside, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Becker had no clue why he agreed to shoot pool with Carson tonight. Ever since the night he’d seen Jane and Ryan together at the hotel, draped all over each other, he’d avoided his fellow SEALs, especially Carson. There’d been a couple of messages on his cell phone from Carson, and one from Holly, the day after he’d stopped by their place, but Becker hadn’t returned the calls. Those two were the reason he’d gone to see Jane in the first place, and look how that turned out.

  Fuck. There he went, thinking about her again. It had almost become a twist
ed game, counting how many times a day Jane slid into his mind. The current tally was six, and pathetically, that was just in the last hour.

  “I’m still waiting to hear why you’ve been avoiding me this entire week,” Carson said casually as he racked the balls on the pool table.

  “I’m not avoiding you,” Becker lied.

  “Yes, you are. But whatever, don’t tell me why.” Carson stepped back and gestured for Becker to break the neatly arranged balls. “At least tell me what happened with Jane.”

  “Nothing. It didn’t work out.” Averting his eyes, he bent forward, pulled his cue back and sent the white ball smashing into the others, making them scatter on the green felt like frantic rats.

  He straightened his back and examined the table, annoyed to see that despite the excessive strength he’d put into the shot, not a single ball had landed in a pocket.

  Behind him, he heard Carson let out a frazzled breath. “What do you mean, it didn’t work out? She wasn’t interested?”

  Before he could answer, he caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. An irrational knot of anger coiled around his insides when Ryan Evans and Matt O’Connor strode up to the pool table. They knocked fists with Carson, but didn’t offer the easygoing gesture to Becker, simply nodding in greeting.

  Becker forced himself to nod back. Forced himself not to glare at Evans, or even worse, unleash an upper cut into the younger man’s jaw. Ryan hadn’t done anything wrong. So what if he’d slept with Jane? No matter how much the notion infuriated him, Becker couldn’t blame Ryan. Fuck, he couldn’t blame Jane, either. After all, he was the one who’d broken things off with her.

  Still, it took a considerable amount of willpower to maintain a civil attitude toward Ryan. Just looking at the guy, Becker couldn’t help but imagine him in bed with Jane. Which brought a wave of discomfort to his gut, since he and Jane had done just that, hadn’t they? Imagined Ryan in bed with them. The uncomfortable ache faded back into anger as he realized the fantasy had come true—for Jane, at least. She’d wasted no time climbing into bed with Ryan. Becker’s chest hurt just thinking about it.

  “One of you grab me a beer, will you?” Carson said to the two newcomers.

  “Get your own beer,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes.

  “Come on, please? I’m about to kick Beck’s ass here.”

  Matt took pity on Carson and headed toward the long counter on the other side of the room. As Carson leaned forward to take his shot, Ryan turned to Becker and said, “Have you heard from Jane?”

  His entire body tensed. Seriously? Evans was actually bringing up Jane, to him, the man who’d been fucking her only the day before Ryan?

  “No,” he said stiffly. “I haven’t.”

  Ryan must have sensed the hostility, because he backed off and wandered over to Matt, who was returning with the beers. Evans and O’Connor went to stand by Carson, leaving Becker free to focus on the game. He bent to take a shot, forcing himself to relax. Wasn’t Ryan’s fault things hadn’t worked out with Jane.

  He sank a couple of balls, zoning out the conversation of the other guys, then missed what could have been a sweet combo. He straightened up, waiting for Carson to shoot, and that was when he caught the tail end of Ryan’s comment to Matt.

  “—like, incredible head. That blowjob should go down in history, pun intended.”

  Becker pressed his hands to his sides, fighting back a rush of rage-tinged disbelief. Wow. Evans was a real asshole to talk about this shit in front of him. And to give O’Connor details about what Jane was like in bed? Sleazy as hell.

  Matt laughed. “Did you spend the night?”

  “Nah. Awesome BJ aside, the sex wasn’t all that great.”

  Beck’s fingers curled into fists. Okay, this was fucking disrespectful. If Evans said even one more word…

  “I like my women moaning and squirming and you know, getting into it. She just lay there, looking bored, making me do all the work.” Ryan shrugged. “She was tight as hell, though—”

  Becker snapped. One second he was standing by the pool table, the next he was shoving Evans hard against the wall. He seized the other man by the collar and shook him, his vision nothing but a red haze

  “Don’t fucking talk about her like that,” Becker growled.

  Shock flooded Ryan’s face. “What the fuck are you doing, Lieutenant?”

  He shook the younger guy again, his jaw so tight that his teeth started to hurt. “This isn’t a locker room,” he spat out. “Show her some goddamn respect.”

  A hand suddenly clamped down on Becker’s shoulder. “Beck, let him go,” came Carson’s even voice.

  Becker didn’t ease his grip. Glaring at Ryan, he said, “If I hear you talking about Jane in that way again—”

  “Jane?” Ryan interrupted, his eyes widening.

  “What, you forgot her fucking name already?”

  There was a short pause, and then Ryan sighed. “We weren’t talking about Jane, man. We were talking about Cynthia.”

  Becker blinked. “Who?”

  “Cynthia, the chick I hooked up with last night.”

  The air went rushing out of Becker’s lungs. Cynthia? He looked into Ryan’s eyes, saw the genuine confusion there, and cursed under his breath. Shit.

  Slowly, he released Evans from his kung-fu hold and took a step back. As he noticed the curious eyes focused on him, not just from his team members, but the stares of the other bar patrons, he grew uncomfortable.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I thought you were…talking about her.”

  Ryan straightened the collar of his shirt, a flicker of annoyance entering his eyes. “That wasn’t cool, Lieutenant.”

  “I know.” He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry. I thought…”

  “You thought I fucked her,” Ryan finished knowingly. “Yeah, well, I would’ve, if she’d wanted me. But she didn’t. I took her back to her hotel room where she spent half the night crying.”

  Becker swallowed his surprise. “Why was she crying?” he asked gruffly.

  “Because you dumped her, you idiot.”

  “You can’t call your superior officer an idiot,” Carson said. He smirked. “But I can.” He cast an irritated look in Becker’s direction. “You’re an idiot. You didn’t even talk to her, did you?”

  “No,” Becker admitted.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because…” He let out a sigh. “Because I thought she slept with him,” he said, jerking his thumb at Ryan. He stared at the other guy in remorse. “I saw you two in the hotel parking lot. You had your arm around her, and you walked inside together. I assumed you…you know.”

  Ryan flashed a grin. “Like I said, I totally would have. But she’s in love with you. She spent the entire night downing margaritas and talking about what a jerk you were for ending things, then she cried, then…well, then there was the vomit thing, and finally she went to bed.” He gave a pointed look. “I slept on the floor, by the way. I only stayed the night because I didn’t want her to be alone.”

  Becker had no idea what to say. He felt like a total asshole for making assumptions. And he felt like an even bigger asshole when he pictured Jane’s silky-smooth cheeks soaked with tears. He’d caused those tears. He’d built up this foolish image of his perfect woman, a woman who was the complete opposite of his ex-wife. But who the fuck needed perfection? And why on earth would he ever want a sweet, docile wife when he could have his feisty, stubborn Jane?

  “I’m an idiot,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Carson overheard the remark and said, “Trust us, we know.”

  * * *

  Jane’s hands were full of shopping bags as she climbed the stairs leading up to her third-floor apartment. Her building didn’t have an elevator, but considering her claustrophobia, that was a blessing. Besides, hiking up all those stairs was good exercise. But also super irritating when trying to make the climb with a million shopping bags. Li
z had been right, though. All she’d needed to do was get out of the house and already she felt much better. Of course, a shiny pair of Manolos and three new dresses could make anyone feel better.

  Shifting the bags from her right hand to her left, she dug around in her purse in search of her keys, head bent as she headed down the corridor toward her apartment. She’d just grabbed hold of the key ring when she lost her grip on the purse. It went flying to the floor, its contents spilling onto the carpeted hallway floor.

  “Argggggh,” she said irritably.

  “Need some help?”

  The familiar voice caused her to drop the bags she was holding. Those fell too, joining her purse on the ground, but Jane was too stunned to pay attention to the discarded items. Becker was standing by her door, clad in a pair of khakis and a blue button-down shirt over a white T-shirt. Apprehension clouded his eyes, along with a spark of heat that burned brighter when their gazes locked.

  “What are you doing here?” she squeaked.

  “I wanted to see you,” he said simply.

  She swallowed. “Why?”

  “Because I missed you.”

  Her heart did a little flip. She wanted to throw her arms around his strong, corded neck and kiss him, but she forced herself to stay put. She didn’t fully trust this. Didn’t fully trust him. What had changed? A week ago, he’d been telling her he didn’t want to get attached to her, that her goals were too different from his, and now here he was, standing in front of her.

  “You drove two hours to tell me you missed me? You could have just picked up the phone,” she said quietly.

  “No,” he disagreed. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why?” she repeated.

  Becker stepped closer. She could see his pulse throbbing in his throat. “Because I need to say this in person.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Say what?”