Page 15 of You Can Leave Your Hard Hat On
CHAPTER SIX
“EVERYTHING LOOKS GOOD,” Sam said to Teague, her chest expanding with satisfaction at the progress on the job site in only ten days. “Great job.”
He nodded, which was, she’d learned over the past two weeks, the man’s primary mode of communication. He didn’t speak unless he needed to, and when he did he didn’t waste words.
Dixon came bounding over to her and from her pocket she removed a chew toy that she’d bought for the dog on a whim. “Is it okay if I give this to him?” she asked Teague.
He shrugged. “Go ahead, but he’s not much on toys.”
She leaned over and offered the plaything to the dog. Dixon took it in his mouth without hesitation, then settled down at her feet to play with it.
Teague frowned and looked back to his clipboard.
Samantha glanced at Teague out of the corner of her eye, admitting that her respect for him had grown as she had observed him on the site. He didn’t mind rolling up his sleeves (or, God help her, taking off his shirt) and pitching in to help when necessary, and it was clear thatthe men and women who worked for him held him in high regard.
Luckily, the weather had cooperated. In fact, it was the above-normal warm, dry temperatures that Samantha blamed on her constant state of restlessness and discomfort. Every day for over a week now, she’d awakened in the early hours of the morning, the sheets twisted around her overheated body. She’d attributed her insomnia to the pressure of the library site deadline, but standing next to Teague, she conceded thathedominated her thoughts—consciousandunconscious—more and more every day.
At the most inconvenient moments, snatches of the one night they’d spent together came back to her in vivid, sensory detail—the rough texture of his hands sliding over her skin, the naughty, adult words he murmured in her ear while he prepared her body to accept his, the erotic shock of seeing his work-tanned body melded with her pale one. At times the memories were so intense they made her gasp, at other times she had to cross her legs against the recollection of the pleasure he had shown her. And last night, in the shower, she had succumbed to the onslaught of erotic memories by gratifying herself with a soapy washcloth while fantasizing that Teague was with her, in his hard hat, no less, helping her to achieve release from his slow torment.
“Samantha?”
His voice yanked her back to the moment. “Yes?”
“Maybe you’d better find some shade,” Teague said, peering at her. “You look sunburned.”
She touched her flushed cheek and used a clipboard to fan herself. “I’m okay—it’s just the heat.”
“You know you don’t have to come here every day. I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”
She bristled. “I have a lot riding on this project—I prefer to keep an eye on it myself.”And an eye on Teague,her mind whispered, for reasons that had nothing to do with the job.
“Suit yourself,” he said, then strode away. “Come on, Dixon.”
The dog looked at her and whined but picked up his chew toy and loped after his master.
She cursed inwardly, regretting that she couldn’t seem to be civil to Teague when in truth she was immensely grateful for his expertise on the job. She knew she wasn’t a particularly easy person to work with—a woman had to be a little bitchy to make it in a man’s world—but Teague left her confused and confounded. They could be having an innocent conversation and thenwham!, suddenly everything that came out of his mouth seemed sexually charged. At times she couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or if her hormones were making her misinterpret entire conversations. As a result, their interaction was a confusing collage of short sentences, ambiguous innuendo and defensive body language.
It was, she acknowledged, a good thing that Teague was working for her. There was no way she’d jeopardize the project by becoming involved with him.
And then there was the fact that the man was a naturalleader yet seemed perfectly content to dig ditches. And what was it that Gerald Langtry had said? That Teague worked only when he wanted to. No matter how hot they would be between the sheets (and history told her that they could start a five-alarm fire), his intellectual malaise would eventually wear on her, she knew.
Which was exactly what she and Abby and Carley had discussed—looking past sexual chemistry to the traits of true long-term compatibility.
She watched Teague lift the tail of his T-shirt to wipe his face, her gaze riveted to the gleaming planes of his flat stomach. She moistened her lips and realized if she didn’t get control of her wayward fantasies, she was going to go completely mad. She turned and tromped back to the company car that she’d brought to the site, determined to drive the image of a naked, sexual Teague Brownlee out of her mind. In twenty days, they would be finished with the job, and with each other.
* * *
TEAGUE TURNED TO WATCHSamantha walk away, his gut clenching at the sight of her swinging rear, from her tight ass to the tempting swish of her blond ponytail. His body hardened just watching her move—it was getting harder to work with her and not act on his attraction. And he had the feeling that she wasn’t oblivious to the sexual sparks that flew between them even when they were discussing the most mundane of topics. Suddenly the routine subjects of contouring the land, tunneling channels and joining building materials made his cockthrob. When the urge to touch her overwhelmed him, he picked up a shovel and joined his crew in an attempt to work his body to distraction.
He pulled his hand down his face to rein in his libido. As much as he wanted to bed her, he had to keep the end goal in mind…. He’d have her, but all in good time. The fact that she found him desirable didn’t mean anything. She had found him desirable before—and unsuitable. Unlovable. This time would be no different, he reminded himself.
Debutantes occasionally went slumming when the uptown boys couldn’t hack it in the bedroom. It didn’t mean anything, didn’t change how Samantha regarded him.
Meanwhile, the job was two weeks in and moving at a carefully controlled pace to prevent them from meeting the deadline. It was a shame, too, because he truly believed that the haughty Samantha Stone was onto something with her funky retaining walls. Deep down, that made him feel better because he knew there would be other projects for her in the future.
She turned back and looked at him, her lifted chin filling him with fiery resolve.
Other projects, maybe, but not before he took her down a notch.
