Bull (Red, Hot, & Blue)

by Cat Johnson

  “She did?”

  “Yeah, but she didn’t get past the doorway because she heard you inside talking about your girlfriend, Lana. She ran out of there in tears. I tried to stop her, but she’s quick for a little thing, and she obviously didn’t want to be stopped.”

  Bull sat up a little straighter and winced when his ribs protested. “So you really think they’re not together? Marly and Dickhead Junior? Maybe they got back together after the bombing.”

  “Doubtful, but even if they did, you’re gonna let Dickhead Junior stand in your way after all that happened between you and Marly?”

  “Hell, no.” Bull stood and then sat again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know where she lives.”

  “Please, Bull. You insult me.” Matt rolled his eyes. He made his way to one of the three computers set up on a six-foot-long table and started tapping keys. “You want her date of birth, social security number and last year’s tax return too?” He glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

  “Just an address is good. Actually birthday too, if you’ve got it.”

  When they started dating, he could surprise her by knowing her birthday. That would impress her. Bull laughed at himself. He already had them dating in his mind. He only hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking.

  In two minutes, Matt returned to Bull and handed him a yellow sticky note. In Matt’s scrawl, Bull saw an address, phone number and a date. February 14th. Her birthday was on Valentine’s Day. If that wasn’t a sign, he didn’t know what was.

  “Thanks, Matt. I owe you.”

  “For that little bit of information? Nah, you don’t owe me for that. For making me listen to yet another one of my teammates have sex? Yeah. You owe me big time for that one. Oh, Bull. You’re so huge.” After the unflattering imitation of Marly that had Bull’s face heating, Matt grinned. “Go on, Bull. Go get her. She’s waited too long already for you to remember her.”

  Marly’s fingers flew over the strings as she completed the complicated piece flawlessly. She should be playing perfectly. She had nothing else to do but practice. That and mourn the loss of Bull. Although, she supposed she never really had him. They were together for about an hour during which they both believed they could die. That didn’t exactly make a strong basis for a relationship. It was sad that a terrorist attack had been the biggest, possibly the best, thing to happen to her lately, thanks to Bull. Even sadder he didn’t remember and she’d never see him again.

  She sighed. Maybe if she’d been the type who typically had one-night stands, she wouldn’t be taking this so hard. Falling for a guy she knew for one night was ridiculous. She knew that, but it didn’t help her bruised heart one bit.

  The doorbell rang and she jumped. She’d been on edge a lot lately. She supposed getting blown up did that to a person. Hopefully it would go away like the ringing in her ears had. Maybe she could find a bomb-survivors support group on the internet.

  Marly rose from the harp stool and went to the door. By standing on tiptoe, she could just see through the peephole, but all she saw there was a broad swath of gray sweatshirt. Whoever was there was tall. Very tall.

  Heart pounding, she flipped the lock as fast as her fingers could work and flung open the door.

  “Bull.” Tears filled her eyes just from the sight of him standing in her doorway.

  He stepped forward and brushed her cheek with one big mitt of a hand. She leaned her face against his palm and closed her eyes.

  “Marly.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry I didn’t remember you when I woke up.”

  “You remember me now?”

  He raised his other hand and cradled her face. “I remember you now.”

  “And what we did?” she asked, afraid to hope.

  “And what we did.” He leaned down and stopped just short of her lips. “Do you forgive me for not remembering before?”

  One tear rolled down her cheek. “Yes. Of course.”

  “Good.” A small smile touched his lips before he closed the distance and kissed her.

  She kissed him back, crying and unbelievably happy at the same time. He lifted her off the floor until she was level with him.

  He pulled back from the kiss but didn’t set her down. “You’re not still dating John Dickson, are you?”

  Marly frowned. “No. Why?”

  Bull smiled. “Just wondering if I had any competition to worry about.”

  “John’s no competition for you. Believe me.” She laughed through her tears.

  “Good. Because I’d really like to get to know you better.” His sweet words made her heart speed.

  “The bedroom’s right through that door.”

  He laughed. “We can start there. But I intend to spend as much time as I need to learn everything I can about you. Your favorite food and TV show and what your childhood was like… All of it. You okay with that?”

  “Definitely.” She wanted to get to know him better too. That thought made her realize something. “Hey, I don’t even know your real name. I’m pretty sure your mother didn’t name you Bull when you were born.”

  Was she imagining it or was he blushing. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s just I don’t like my real name.”

  “Why not? What is it?”

  “Gerald.” Bull rolled his eyes.

  “So, that’s not so bad. What’s wrong with… Oh, Gerald Ford. Like the former president.” Her lips twitched as she smothered a smile.

  Bull began carrying her toward the bedroom. “My mother was a big fan of politics. She told me I was almost named Henry Kissinger Ford.”

  At that Marly broke out laughing. “At least she didn’t come up with something like Nixon Ford for the presidential ticket. Or Millhouse for Nixon’s middle name. Good thing you’re so big so you could have defended yourself when kids beat you up over that name.”

  Ducking through the doorway, he shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Get it all out of your system now before we get into that bed. Because I intend to remind you how big I am.” He whispered the last part against her ear, flooding her with memories of their one night together.

  She remembered everything about him. The feel of his hands on her. The way he shook with the effort to be silent as he loved her. And yes, how big he was. With his arms still holding her up, she wrapped her legs around his back.

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Marly covered his face with kisses and then remembered the injuries that had put him in the hospital. “Are you sure you’re okay enough for this? You aren’t still hurt?”

  “Hurt? Nah, I never felt better.” He laid her on the bed and then straightened to toe off one sneaker. His gaze met hers and he grinned. “Get naked and I’ll prove it to you.”

  “My pleasure. You get naked too.”

  “Try and stop me.” Bull laughed. As if to prove the point, he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but a tight black T-shirt. “I’ll have to go home and change before our date tonight though.”

  “We have a date tonight?”

  “Unless you’ve got something else to do. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He pushed his pants down his legs and watched her as she pulled off her shirt. “Oh, and, Marly. Don’t wear those tights things when we go out. You know, in case I decide I can’t keep my hands off you in the truck on the way to the restaurant.”

  He was obviously used to being in charge. In this particular situation, Marly didn’t mind that one bit. “All right. I’ll remember that when I get dressed.”

  “Good.” Naked now, all of the magnificence that was Bull crawled onto the bed toward her, and she knew there’d be no more talk of tights or even their date for quite a while.

  About the Author

  As an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance in genres including military, cowboy, and ménage, Cat Johnson uses her computer so much she wore the letters off the keyboard within a year. She is known for her creative
marketing and research practices. Consequently, Cat owns an entire collection of camouflage and western attire for book signings and a fair number of her consultants wear combat or cowboy boots for a living. In her real life, she’s been a marketing manager, professional harpist, bartender, tour guide, radio show host, Junior League president, sponsor of a bull-riding rodeo cowboy, wife and avid animal lover.

  To learn more about Cat, please visit www.catjohnson.net. Send an email to Cat at cat@catjohnson.net, like her Facebook page at www.facebook.com/CatJohnsonAuthor or follow her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/cat_johnson.

  Look for these titles by Cat Johnson

  Now Available:

  Rough Stock

  Studs in Spurs

  Unridden

  Bucked

  Ride

  Hooked

  Flanked

  Red, Hot, & Blue

  Trey

  Jack

  Jimmy

  Jared

  Cole

  Bobby

  A Few Good Men

  Model Soldier

  A Prince Among Men

  Coming Soon:

  Matt

  The Commander

  Who needs a prince when there’s a sexy soldier in your bunk? Hoo rah!

  A Prince Among Men

  © 2013 Cat Johnson

  Red, Hot, & Blue, Book 9

  Sergeant Ryan Pettit blogs anonymously as Groundpounder, recording non-confidential details of a deployment where every day feels exactly the same—until a female reporter shows up at his firebase. And he realizes nothing will ever be the same again.

  Though his orders are clear—protect her, but make her life so miserable she high tails it back to London—the last thing he wants is to watch her leave in a cloud of Afghanistan dust.

  Intrigued by Groundpounder’s blog posts, Vicki Vanover flirted, bribed, and outright threatened her way to the front lines outside of Kandahar. Nothing has ever stopped her from getting a story, but an accidental night in Ryan’s bunk is a distraction—and attraction—she never anticipated.

  Yet Afghanistan leaves Vicki with more questions than answers. Why won’t Ryan let her anywhere near the local women she wants to interview? Who is the mysterious, red-headed Lt. Wales everyone treats with such deference? Worst of all, why is watching Ryan run toward danger, instead of away from it, enough to stop her heart?

  This book has been previously published.

  Warning: Contains super-hot sexual encounters in the war zone.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for A Prince Among Men:

  It appeared the press conference would be starting late. Again. In spite of the fact that the overly warm room had long ago filled with reporters, the British Prime Minister had yet to appear to answer their questions.

  Meanwhile, Vicki Vanover had already checked her email on her shiny new phone, organized her notes and had even cleaned all the old crumpled gum wrappers out of the bottom of her oversized bag.

  With an impatient huff, Vicki placed her camera gently on the floor and pulled her cell phone back out of her weathered—okay, perhaps beaten-up was a better description—leather satchel.

  Moments of free time were already too few and far between. Since Vicki was unwillingly experiencing one right now, she might as well use the time to surf over to her newest favorite online pastime, reading military blogs.

  Actually, one milblog in particular. And it was rapidly becoming more than a pastime. Her interest in one specific blog had become a downright obsession.

  She hated to admit it, but she had a little bit of a crush on one of the bloggers. She tried to excuse the attraction to a soldier she’d never met as professional respect for his writing ability. The only problem with that was she rarely found herself all tingly on the inside from reading impressive articles in say…The New York Times.

  Vicki dismissed the feeling of shame her arousal at corresponding with this guy caused. Chances were she’d never meet him, so what harm could a little online crush do? Besides, she figured since her next assignment would have her heading into war-torn Afghanistan, she couldn’t be prepared enough. Milblogs were about as real a taste of what to expect as she could get for now.

  As usual, the milblog’s author, screen name Groundpounder, had responded to her blog comment with one of his own. Vicki felt the warmth grow and spread throughout her belly as she read it.

  My dear Vicki V,

  So glad you liked the last post. As you can see by my newest blog entry, I’ve been buried deep, and not in a good way.

  Enjoy.

  Groundpounder

  After reading his brief but suggestive reply twice, and growing warmer with each reading, she moved on to the new blog post he had alluded to. He had named this installment “The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful.”

  Vicki smiled, appreciating yet another one of Groundpounder’s frequent Jimmy Buffet song references, and began to scroll through the post she’d anxiously been awaiting on her cell’s small screen.

  The next time our B-team leader acts like the sky is falling, I guess I will have to listen to him, because the sky actually fell. Or at least, it rained enough to cave in the roof of one of our mud huts, nearly crushing eleven sleeping men and successfully burying all the equipment in the operations center that couldn’t be thrown out the door before the collapse. That was almost two weeks ago and, forgive me, but it’s been that long since my last blog post. Here’s a rundown of what happened during that time…

  After a few hours of digging that morning—and let us not forget I had just gotten off twenty-four hours of guard duty when the shit, or shall we say the mud, started to fly—we found a few more of the guys’ personal items and cleared a small portion of the rubble. We finally called it quits, at which time the now displaced Joes had to be packed into rooms with the rest of us. So now Sergeant Wallace is sharing our already too small quarters with the squad leader and me.

  It took until yesterday to completely clear all of the mess and recover what survived the collapse, and that was on top of all of our usual duties. Luckily, the crappy, rainy weather kept the baddies at bay for a lot of that time. Not one Joe complained about the loss of items or the extra work. We were lucky no lives were lost that day. Tomorrow, we may not be so lucky.

  Vicki read the post and sighed. This guy never failed to tug at her heartstrings. At least this time, Groundpounder hadn’t managed to make her cry as he had so often in the past.

  “What’s got you sighing so big? What are you reading there on your cellie, love?”

  Vicki looked up to find Mel, her favorite Australian cameraman, and felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. She seriously hoped the fact she was lusting over a strange blogger wasn’t written all over her face. “Hey there, Mel. Just a milblog written by a US soldier deployed in Afghanistan. I got approved for the assignment I requested. I’m getting sent to Kandahar. I figure I better get the feel of the country before I get there.”

  Mel bobbed his sandy-haired head. He straddled the chair next to her and sat. “So you’re definitely going then?”

  Vicki nodded, excited. “It wasn’t easy getting the magazine to agree, but I really think it’s important to have a female’s take on the progress in that country as far as women’s rights.”

  “I’ve spent a bit of time in Afghanistan myself. I’d love to chew the fat about it with you over a beer…or maybe breakfast.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Handsome in a rugged, Indiana Jones kind of way and over-the-top flirty while always managing to remain a gentleman—that was Mel. Too bad Vicki had a no-dating-men-at-work policy. Actually, it was a fairly new policy enacted about a year ago after the disastrous ending to her ill-fated relationship with a co-worker.

  The problem with the no-dating-at-work plan, however, was that Vicki only met men at work. Her self-imposed ban had led to an extremely long dry spell in her dating, and more importantly, in her sex life. Even so, she planned to stick with the resolve. She’d figure ou
t a way to iron out the kinks in the plan later. But the globetrotting ladies’ man Mel and his proposal, as charming as his Australian accent was, still were definitely off limits.

  Vicki laughed. “Thanks, Mel. I’ll keep that in mind.” He probably wouldn’t know what to do with himself if she ever said yes to him anyway.

  As usual, Mel grinned good-naturedly at her sidestepping around his flirting and winked. “I hope you will, Vicki, and if things do get dodgy in Afghanistan, give me a jingle. I know some blokes there.”

  “I bet you do.” Vicki had no doubt that after all the time he spent embedded as a cameraman there, the man was familiar with Afghanistan. She would definitely not hesitate to call or email him if things got dodgy, as he had put it.

  A door in the wall behind the podium opened and the prime minister, along with his entourage, funneled into the room, interrupting Vicki’s thoughts.

  Mel rose from the chair with a sigh. “Time to go and make a quid.” He hooked a thumb back toward his video camera set up on a tripod along the sidewall.

  The best way to heal a broken heart is to jump right back on the horse. So to speak…

  Jack

  © 2010 Cat Johnson

  Red, Hot, & Blue, Book 2

  After watching the girl he’s crushed on for years fall for his best friend, the last thing special operative Jack Gordon wants is a vacation. If cooling his heels doesn’t drive him crazy, doing it under his family’s scrutiny will.

  But once he’s back home things get more than a little interesting. The new farm hand is cute, sexy—and his instincts tell him she’s got something to hide. Luckily, he’s got the skills and the backup to find out what.

  Gordon Equine is the perfect place for Niccolina Campolini. The Gordons pay in room, board and cash. And they don’t ask questions. Perfect for a girl on the run…until Jack shows up. Sexy as hell and far too inquisitive, Jack strikes sparks and suspicions that put both her body and her heart in danger.