by Marie Harte
A Major Distraction
A Good to Go Novella
By Marie Harte
A Major Distraction
A Good to Go Novella
By: Marie Harte
Published by Fated Desires Publishing, LLC.
ISBN: 978-1-62322-128-7
© 2014 Marie Harte
Cover Art by Valerie Tibbs
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
A Major Distraction
Major Brad Cava has watched his siblings fall in love. He tried marriage once—it didn’t take. He’s not looking for love, just some fun with women who know the score. He’s been in a dry spell for a while, which must be why that smart-aleck at work, Ms. Genevieve St. James, is looking so good. Granted, she’s just his type. She has long, wine-red hair, knockout curves in all the right places, killer green eyes and a brain to go with the body. But she sets his teeth on edge with all her professional dictates and attitude at the office.
Genevieve has no idea why Major Annoying, as she likes to call the sexy Major Cava, is always on her mind. When she inadvertently catches her new mystery neighbor pleasuring himself, she automatically thinks of Cava. To her mortification, she finds out Major Hottie and her exhibitionist neighbor are one and the same. Before long, she’s learning there’s much more to Brad than an amazing body, charming wit, and dictatorial tendency at work.
They find themselves falling hard for each other. Until something strange happens at work, and Genevieve is blamed for things she didn’t do. Brad doesn’t seem to trust her, and she has to wonder if the love she’s beginning to feel is one-sided. When the truth comes out, Brad has to has to figure out if he can risk it all again for a woman. Has he learned from his past, or is he doomed to make the same mistakes again with a woman he can’t help loving?
Dedication
To all the Marines serving or have served our country, thank you and Semper Fi.
Chapter One
Brad hoped like hell his new neighbors didn’t make as much noise as the old ones had. Barely in his thirties and he’d been yelling at the “kids next door” to turn down their shitty music. A sad state of affairs for a man who should have been out dating, dancing, or charming a woman into coming home with him. He hated his recent dry spell, but better no sex than having to propose to a woman he barely liked, let alone didn’t love. Marcy had been fun at first, then a little weird. Oddly enough, his older brother had noticed her crazy eyes from the very beginning.
Now alone, Brad tried to embrace being single as a blessing instead of the curse he’d been feeling lately. He didn’t need to get himself engaged or, God forbid, married. At thoughts of the M word, he stifled more memories better kept buried and yanked off his clothes until he stood in his boxer briefs. He stared out his bedroom window, wondering if he ought to close his curtain. Though he’d seen a moving truck outside the neighbor’s earlier in the day, he saw no lights or signs of life over there now.
With a spare eight feet between their homes, and his bedroom looking directly into the neighbor’s, being too close for comfort certainly came to mind. Things hadn’t been so bad with the Blaylocks, a pleasant octogenarian couple. Their grandsons, however…
Knowing he’d soon have to deal with someone else next door depressed him. So much for the fresh ocean air. When the loud jerks next door had been in residence, he’d had to close his curtains, not wanting to see or be seen by the people who came and went at all hours. But with them gone the past month, he’d kept his window and curtains wide open, enjoying the slight breeze that passed through his room.
May in Swansboro, North Carolina, could be a bitch when the temps hit the high eighties. This year looked to be already setting record highs as the summer grew closer.
Wanting at least one more day to himself, and feeling a bit frisky, he left the lights off, the window half-open, and the curtain drawn. He turned on some music. A low jazz relaxed him, and he left his bedroom to go downstairs for a beer.
The house suited him. Stationed once again in Camp Lejeune for a three-year tour, he’d decided to buy a place. This house, in historic Swansboro, was perfect. With hardwood floors and the original paned glass from the early 1900s, the place had withstood its share of hurricanes and storms. Not too big that he was swimming in utility bills but large enough to have his sister or brother spend the night and not be on top of each other, the house provided just what he needed away from work.
At the thought of work—and her—he frowned, chugged back half the beer, and stomped upstairs.
Fucking Genevieve St. James, the blight of his existence, had arrived in Camp Lejeune just four short months after he had. Both of them worked in the MEF G2, the Intelligence section of Division headquarters. But unlike Brad, who liked getting along with his subordinates and superiors, Genevieve barked orders like a damn general.
Brad did his job well and had the confidence of every superior he’d ever worked for, to include Colonel Drey. He knew Signals Intelligence like the back of his hand, constantly studying and reading to know more. He listened, he watched, and he learned, never too proud to ask if he had questions. Unlike the woman who drove him to drink.
He entered his bedroom and swallowed down the rest of his beer, wishing he could put the infuriating female from his mind. A lost cause, unfortunately.
Genevieve acted like she knew everything all the time. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if she smiled once in a while or took that stick out of her ass. She dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’ until she made his ears bleed from the copious amount of paperwork he had to do to get anything fixed. A systems engineer, she was integral to making their intelligence systems work. As such, she took great pains to streamline the troubleshooting process and improve security accreditation, making their security protocols more efficient—or so she liked to say.
In any other situation, he’d appreciate her thoroughness. But the woman kept stepping on his toes, finding supposed security system discrepancies and causing him to lose operational capabilities. She was driving him nuts. That the colonel backed her up on everything and continued to give Brad those sly smiles only aggravated him more.
Brad’s annoyance with the woman had nothing to do with her killer good looks and everything to do with her conceited attitude. Too bad she wasn’t a guy. They could have bloodied each other silly then grabbed a beer and hung out after Brad set him straight. But Genevieve…
With a groan, he set his beer aside. The moon rose higher, lighting up a portion of his room. Such a pretty night, but all he could think about was the redheaded temptress who aggravated him nine times out of ten.
She had a graceful build, breasts that would nicely fill his hands. Added to that, she possessed a trim waist, rounded hips, and long, long legs he’d too many times envisioned wrapped around his head. He’d always had a thing for redheads, and Genevieve had dark, blood-red hair. So rich, so tempting to put his hands in it and drag her close. Her green eyes usually stared at him with equal amounts of scorn and derision, unlike the reaction he garnered from most women.
They’d spent the past two months bickering what seemed like
every other day, and damn if that hadn’t made him wonder how fiery she’d be in bed, if her auburn hair was natural, and if she had any left between her legs to prove it. The thought of her shaving her pussy excited him almost as much as the idea of her not shaving it. He’d have to pet her to clear a trail to her plump little clit.
“Fuck.” As usual, thoughts about the woman turned him on. With Genevieve on his mind, he pulled off his underwear and took himself in hand. Yeah, she’d be on her knees begging him to forgive her. And he would, but only if she swallowed him to the back of her throat then touched her breasts, pinching her nipples while she edged her fingers down her belly to play with herself.
He stroked himself faster, rasping and groaning as he neared his end. This obsession with the witch was killing him. But to die from such pleasure…
****
Genevieve cursed the previous tenants of the home as she stumbled up the steps in the dark. Her landlords, the lovely Blaylocks, had been sorely taken advantage of by their grandkids. Fortunately, their children had stepped in, finally evicted the punks, and established terms and a rental price Genevieve had jumped on.
Due to some confusion with the power company, she’d lost her electricity, though she’d been told it would be turned back on in the morning. At least she had hot water and heat, not that she needed it. She wiped the sweat off her forehead as she trudged up the steps to the second floor. The home wasn’t large, but for her, it was perfect. With her parents and sister living up North, she had no need for more than a simple guest room. And with her sad lack of social prospects, she doubted she needed any more than a queen-sized bed for company—which lately consisted of just herself.
Pathetic, but if she’d learned anything from her job in Quantico and her now fired mentor, it was that the fastest way to lose one’s reputation was to sleep with anyone in her chain of command. So no affairs with her boss, any of her coworkers, or the many, many Marines working at the MEF who’d asked her for a date…or anything else she cared to share.
She snorted. She liked sex as much as the next girl. Hell, her drive had scared off more than a few suitors. Which made it that much more critical to be circumspect. Dating the wrong guy could have people talking badly about her. She had no intention of losing the respect she’d earned at work. Nope. She’d just go without until she transferred to a larger city or bigger base.
At the thought, she paused. No way in hell she’d go that long without sex and not lose her mind. She’d simply have to find someone a town over or something. No sex for three years? Laughable.
Pushing into the bedroom that would easily fit her bed, dresser and nightstand, she set her box down. Moonlight streamed through the window next door, and she realized she’d have to get some blinds or her new neighbor would be able to see right inside her bedroom. Kind of like what she was looking at right—
Oh. My. God.
It was as though a higher power had heard her need for sexual stimulation and delivered in spades. She stared at the most amazing male body she’d ever seen. Sculpted muscle in that chest, buff arms, those meaty thighs. And that long, thick cock. So hard, and so mouthwateringly erect. She couldn’t see the man’s face, only his body, and she liked that bit of mystery. Surely a body that fine couldn’t have a face handsome enough to go with it. He even had just the right amount of chest hair. Not so much that he resembled a bear, but enough that he didn’t look like a pubescent boy either.
He continued to stroke himself, pumping in his hand. She heard a low moan, thought it most erotic thing ever, and continued to watch him masturbate. She didn’t blink, not wanting to miss a thing. Her entire body felt tingly, her nipples hard, her panties damp with arousal. That’s it, handsome. Let me see you come.
His heavy breathing and soft swear floated to her on the night air. Then he milked a stream of cum from his cock. More than a stream, she saw as he ejaculated quite a bit until he finished. He stood still for a moment, breathing hard and no doubt enjoying the massive theta waves of pleasure stimulating his brain.
His cock had yet to turn fully flaccid even as he cleaned himself up. He left the moonlight for a moment then returned to the side of the bed.
Her pulse raced, wondering if she’d get to see what he looked like and praying his face matched the rest of him.
Just as he lowered himself to the bed, the moonlight disappeared behind overhead cloud cover. She frowned then realized her good fortune. Now she could imagine what he looked like, her fantasy of the ideal man not marred by a disappointing face. Yeah, that sounded superficial. Sue her. She’d just watched perfection. Why ruin it with reality?
At thoughts of perfection and ruination, a disturbing recollection of that obnoxious Major Cava came to mind. Major Bradley Cava, staff advisor to the G2, Colonel Drey. She liked the colonel. He listened to her, treated her with respect, and advised others to do the same. Major Cava? She wanted to dislike him on principle.
Everyone in the G2 loved the guy. And he was hot. Capital H-hot to his bones. Tall, dark, handsome, and so friggin’ studly he caused her ovaries to stand up and, on a daily basis, cheer that she’d been born a female. Something about the man made her feel ultra feminine. And also put her back up. She’d seen the condescension in his eyes the first time they’d been introduced. That look that told her he’d seen her as no more than a redhead with tits and ass.
She’d been around enough chauvinistic men to know how to handle them. She gave them no quarter. Business only. Cava didn’t like her ideas or her handling of a situation? Tough shit. He could take it up with their boss.
So far so good. She’d been leading him by the nose for the past two months, and he hated it. But he hadn’t made any inappropriate comments or tried to intimidate her by force. The man knew his occupational specialty, for sure, but he didn’t know the tech field like she did.
Realizing her attraction for her next-door performer had bled over into the attraction she still had for Major Annoying, she forced herself out of the bedroom and went downstairs again. Though she had no lights, she had a flashlight to use if the moonlight and ambient streetlights didn’t provide what she needed.
At this point, she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. She’d no doubt have a long day ahead of her tomorrow. But then she had the weekend to finish unpacking.
With a sigh, she dodged a few boxes, found her way to the couch, and settled into sleep. Unfortunately, dreams about a certain well-hung neighbor and Major Cava lingered well into her work the following day.
“Hey, Ms. St. James. I put that system change request on your desk,” one of the sergeants said.
“Thanks.” She moved past the Marine to get more coffee. Already noon and she’d been too busy to grab more than one cup. Her caffeine threshold hadn’t been close to being reached.
After filling up, she added cream and sugar, took a sip, and sighed.
“Figures. I’m looking for you and you’re in here goofing off.”
She tensed at the familiar growl. Turning, she pasted a sweet smile on her face. “Major Cava. What a lovely surprise.”
To her bemusement, he smiled instead of frowning at her. That was a new one. “You know, St. James, if you were less of a miserable perfectionist, we might just get along.”
“Funny how the thought of us being besties is enough to get me through the rest of my day without killing myself.”
Someone cleared his throat behind her, and she turned to see Colonel Drey standing there with a wide grin on his face.
She felt her cheeks heat. “Oh, uh, hello, sir.”
“Genevieve.” He nodded at Major Cava. “Brad. I need you two in my office in ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Brad grabbed a cup and stared at her.
“I’ll be there, Colonel.” Genevieve nodded, and the colonel left. To Brad, she scowled. “What?”
“You’re in the way.”
She stepped aside, brushing by him. She had the bad luck to breathe him
in when their bodies touched, and hers went into immediate lust overload. Cava wore some kind of subtle cologne that made her want to lock him in a dark closet and do bad things to him.
Yikes. After seeing that sexy show last night, she blamed her libido for choosing the wrong man to notice.
“What’s that look?” he murmured as he poured himself coffee.
This close, she could see his eyes weren’t a dark brown, but an amber. Like whiskey—sharp, strong, and with bite.
“Just curious as to what you wanted.”
He took a sip of coffee, watching her all the while. Damn the man for having a perfect mouth too. Genevieve had a sudden urge to watch him sip from her.
“Now that’s a loaded question.” He held up a hand. “Before you report me to HR for harassment, I should tell you I want you…to fix the problem I identified last week.”
She frowned. “I thought Marcy had already taken care of that.”
“Marcy? Oh. Well…” He looked uncomfortable, which surprised her.
“What?”
“Never mind. I’ll fix it myself.”
Before she could ask him anything more, he darted around her. Then she remembered a piece of gossip she’d tried to ignore not long ago. Apparently Marcy and Major Cava had dated a time or two long before Genevieve had arrived on station. Though their courtship hadn’t lasted, anytime Marcy caught sight of him, it seemed to Genevieve at least, the woman did her best to catch his attention. Nothing more had ever been said about them, and Cava acted with all professionalism and decorum whenever they dealt with each other.
But still… Genevieve never had that kind of problem because she didn’t dally where she worked. Kind of hard to have a problem when you never dally anywhere, her annoyingly honest conscience reminded her.