You Can Leave Your Hard Hat On

by Stephanie Bond

  His mouth tightened as he turned back to the papers. “How did it go with your father today?”

  She considered lying—her relationship with her father was no business of his, but it almost seemed more of an effort to make up something that sounded good. Besides, she felt a strange compulsion to share with Teague. No one else among her acquaintances had been privy to the rise of Packard Stone in Gypsum and could appreciate the power that he wielded over those close to him. In hindsight, that night in the guesthouse she might have shared with Teague too much about her conflicts with her father. “It didn’t go well. My father still thinks I’m a little girl.”

  “Fathers are like that.”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’m sure it’s extra hard because you’re in the same industry.”

  She sighed. “I have two college degrees, yet my father will never concede that I might know something that he doesn’t.”

  “I think it’s nice that you have so much in common.”

  “Do you and your father have a lot in common?”

  He shrugged. “I guess we do. We both work with our hands. We both like the same things.” He grinned. “Blondes.”

  She blushed, glad for the break in the tension. “Your mother is a blonde?”

  He nodded. “She still turns my Dad’s head. They never had two extra nickels to rub together when all of us kids were in school, but they toughed it out.”

  Envy pulsed through her chest that he had parents who were so in love. “I think that’s…nice. Do your brothers and sisters still live in Gypsum?”

  “Some of them. Some have scattered. I have a bunch of nieces and nephews.”

  She smiled. “Sounds like fun during the holidays.”

  “You mean total chaos.” He gave her a pointed look. “You would hate it.”

  She squirmed, feeling like an uptight, hard-hearted person. “Big families sound exotic to me—and complicated.”

  “That they are,” he agreed. “Did your father ever remarry?”

  She gave a little laugh. “No. I guess my mother was the only woman who could put up with him.” She glanced away, mortified at the tears that gathered in her eyes.

  “Hey,” he said softly, turning her toward him and studying her face. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Feeling foolish, she blinked away the moisture. “You didn’t. I’m sorry, I must be more tired than I thought.”

  “You must miss your mother,” he murmured, stroking her cheek.

  Surprised by his tenderness, she nodded. “Every day.” Then she straightened and wiped the corners of her eyes. “So…show me the changes on the plans.”

  Instead, he reached for her hand and slowly pulled her against him. “We were interrupted today.”

  “Rightly so,” she said, hating how prim her voice sounded and how hard her heart pounded.

  “I kind of got the feeling that you liked it,” he said, a lazy smile crawling across his mouth.

  Heat infused her body as she remembered the kiss. “Like I said, you caught me off guard.”

  “Would you prefer that a man tell you when he’s going to kiss you?”

  A hum of desire sang low in her stomach. She swallowed hard. “A gentleman would ask.”

  His eyes darkened with desire as his mouth closed in on hers. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m no gentleman.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  TEAGUE’S MOUTH DESCENDED on hers in a burning, bruising kiss that chased all rational thought from her brain. His breath stole hers and she thought her lungs would explode from the pressure…and the pleasure. Giving in to the hunger that his rough kiss evoked, she gasped for air and wound her arms around his neck, oblivious to anything except the electricity that his mouth and hands unleashed in her body. His lips tasted salty, he smelled of man and musk, and the earthy aromas only heightened her excitement. She inhaled his scent into her lungs, smoothed her hands over his back and underneath his shirt to feel his warm, firm flesh and the indentation of his spine.

  “Why are we doing this?” she whispered.

  “Because it feels so damn good,” he said with a growl, then captured her mouth with his before she could give voice to the doubts that skittered on the periphery of her mind. Doubts that disappeared as soon as his tongue touched hers.

  He walked her backward until the edge of the bar pressed into her hips. The sting of the pain only keened her senses further, making her all too aware of his bulging erection pressing against her stomach. The kiss grew more aggressive as he leaned his body into hers. Frustration flared in her belly—frustration over being so incredibly attracted to him in spite of every reason not to be. She bit his tongue, seeing if he would back down, but he gave as good as he got, capturing her lower lip between his teeth, then nipping at her neck as if he might devour her, his breath ragged against her skin.

  He stepped back long enough to unhook his hard hat from his belt loop and set it on the counter. Samantha stared at the object of her fantasy, knowing that by stripping himself of the bulky piece of gear, he was stating his intention to get a lot closer to her.

  She looked into his green eyes, glittering with anticipation and promise, and she was lost. He traced a finger up to the zipper pull of her jacket and unzipped it slowly, caressing each inch of exposed skin. A shudder started at the back of her neck and traveled over her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples beaded as soon as air hit her skin. He parted the soft fabric with his hands, his breath catching in appreciation as he palmed her full breasts. When his fingers closed over her nipples, plucking and pulling, she writhed in the most exquisite agony. The man knew how to make her body sing.

  With a guttural groan, he lifted her and set her on the counter, sending crystal figurines rolling and smashing to the floor behind the counter. The elevation was perfect for his sex to press into the juncture of her thighs, and the promise of what was to come sent a flood of moisture to her folds. He lowered his mouth to each nipple, abandoning the gentle licks when she whispered, “Harder.” He teeth and tongue became more insistent as he took and gave pleasure more roughly, tweaking her nipples with his calloused fingers until she cried out with delight. With her knees she squeezed his waist, clawing at his shirt.

  He shed the shirt and her eyes went immediately to the angry red scar on his shoulder. She touched the puckered skin. “What happened?”

  “Motorcycle accident.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, suddenly concerned, but not entirely surprised to learn that Teague was still living on the edge.

  “Fine now,” he murmured absently, then dragged her velour pants and black panties down her legs, exposing her most secret places hidden by a downy thatch of dark golden hair. He gazed at her hungrily as he undid the fly of his jeans. She slid her hand into the front of his boxers and closed her hand around his thick erection to the satisfying tune of his long groan. Teague was a big man and amply endowed. His size had scared her a little when they’d spent that first night together, but now she knew how incredibly good it would feel sliding inside her.

  He pushed at the waistband of his jeans to free his cock completely, then withdrew his wallet, presumably looking for a condom. He ripped open the package, then rolled it on in record time. Samantha leaned her hands back on the counter, but when her hand touched his hard hat, a naughty idea sprang to her mind. She picked it up and grinned. “Will you put this on for me, too?”

  His eyebrows went up. “A little role-playing, huh? Whatever turns you on,” he said on a ragged exhale that revealed he was hanging on to his self-control by a thread.

  He put on the yellow hard hat and she shivered with pleasure at the sight of him, one hundred percent male, his broad shoulders toned and tanned from hard work in the sun, dark hair scattered across his firm pecs, winding its way down over a flat narrow stomach to where his cock jutted out, hard for her.

  Her sex felt heavy, pulsing in anticipation. “I want you inside of me,” she whispered frantically.

>   He rubbed the tip of his sex against her slick folds, then he clasped her hips and with a guttural moan, filled her in one thrust. The sudden fullness sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body. She gasped from the sensory overload that seemed to steal her mobility. She just wanted to float, and feel and receive his body. He began to grind in and out of her in long, powerful thrusts. She cupped his tight behind, reveling in the movement of his hips as he contracted to plunge into her, deeper and deeper until he reached her inner limit. He locked gazes with her, and she was unprepared for the passion she saw there. Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away, reveling in the play of emotions over his face. His jaw clenched with effort and restraint, his eyes hooded with pure pleasure.

  The sensations were so overwhelming that she could barely speak, barely hold herself up as their bodies slammed together. They were perfectly attuned to each other, on the same sensual wavelength. They moved together, faster and faster, each stroke more fulfilling than the last, until her body trembled with the strain of wanting, longing, stretching, reaching. With one massive thrust, he sent her over the edge. She cried out as her body collapsed in a crash of bright lights and intense spasms. A thought registered distantly that this was how she remembered it—this was the physical experience that had eluded her since she and Teague had last been together.

  Teague watched her come, gratified at the languid abandon in her beautiful face coupled with the way her body contracted around his, urging him home. To see his cock imbedded in her nest of golden curls sent him to the brink of explosion. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he thrust hard and came, crying out with a force that weakened his knees and made him feel as if Samantha was drawing more out of him than his life fluid. His muscles contracted involuntarily, sapping his strength. God, she took him to the highest sexual peak he’d ever experienced.

  As their bodies recovered, he clung to her, leaning into the counter for support. When he looked into her glazed, satisfied eyes, warning flags raised in his mind. Get out now. But he resisted the urge, telling himself that the worst thing he could do for his plan was to have sex and run. Instead, he gave in to the impulse to kiss her, capturing her lush, full mouth for a sweet, languid exploration to punctuate their shared experience. He pulled away from her gently and helped her down from the counter.

  She reached for her clothes, pushing her hair behind her ears, suddenly shy—not the same woman who had asked him to wear his hard hat during sex, he observed wryly. She glanced at the paperwork they’d crushed, wrinkled and torn. He was afraid that the situation would jar Samantha back into her rigid state of mind, remorseful and ashamed. To his relief, she laughed, a sound that did strange things to his heart. “I hope they’re still readable.”

  He grinned. “We might need some tape.” Then he winced at the pile of broken crystal, the remains of one of the miniatures that Samantha obviously collected. “I don’t think that tape will fix this. Sorry.”

  “It’s no big deal,” she said, waving away his concern, but frowning with regret at the same time.

  He could tell that she mourned the piece—the great architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion. He felt bad. But he told himself if she didn’t make a big deal out of it, he shouldn’t either. Why was it that he had to remind himself to be cool when he was around Samantha Stone?

  “Just give me a minute to get this cleaned up,” she said. “Then we can get down to work.”

  He gestured vaguely. “Mind if I take a quick shower first?”

  He noticed the slight hesitation, although she recovered well enough. “Down the hall, turn right.”

  He followed her directions, taking note of her immaculate decor. Even though he’d given her a hard time about it, it was refreshing to be in a woman’s home and not feel like he was in the Land of Precious, with silk flower arrangements and hundreds of throw pillows covering perfectly good furniture. He walked into the bathroom, admiring the stainless countertops and slate-tiled floor. The entire room was a shower, with drains placed strategically in the floor. In the corner were two waterfall fixtures. Nice.

  Then Teague turned and caught a glimpse of his reflection—naked from the waist up, with his fly undone, his arms dark with the day’s dust, wearing his hard hat, like a damned gigolo. One part of him had been pleased to discover that Samantha was still an adventurous lover despite her prim facade, but another part of him had been dismayed that she was getting off on the idea of some Joe from her job site coming over to service her.

  But didn’t that only confirm that she still considered him to be beneath her?

  He yanked off the hard hat and set it on the counter, then undressed and draped his clothing on a stool. He frowned at the mud that fell from the tread of his boots, but he had a perverse urge to dirty her carpet.

  He turned on the water and stepped beneath the twin streams, leaning his hands against the wall and dropping his head to let the water flow over the back of his neck. His body still vibrated and his mind still reeled from having sex with Samantha. She knew how to rock his world, but he had to remind himself that seducing her was only a means to an end. In a few days, the pre-closing inspection would expose his plan and he would, at last, have his revenge. These…feelings he was beginning to have for her were rooted in lust and retribution, nothing more.

  Teague gritted his teeth. The thing that scared him the most was that he already wanted her again. He could almost still feel her hands on him.

  Then with a start he realized that her hands were on him. He turned to see that she’d joined him, her long-limbed body stunning in its natural state, her breasts full, her waist narrow, her hips flared. And her eyes smoldered with passion. His body hardened instantly. She stepped under the tumbling water, ran her hands down his chest, then fell to her knees.

  As she took his rigid cock into her warm mouth, Teague leaned his head back and steadied himself against the walls of the shower. Things were going way better than he’d planned…way better…

  CHAPTER TEN

  “AND I WANT A PORSCHE BOXSTER as a Christmas bonus.”

  “Okay.” Sam blinked, then jerked her head up to look at her assistant. “What did you say?”

  Price crossed his arms. “Should I be worried about you?”

  She smiled, feeling a little giddy. “I’m just preoccupied. The inspector for the library site is supposed to call today to let me know where we stand for getting things done by Monday.”

  “What do you expect him to say?”

  She smiled wider, her chest expanding. “I expect him to say that everything is on or ahead of schedule.”

  Her assistant grinned. “Great.” Then he angled his head. “But are you sure that good mood doesn’t have something to do with that kissable foreman of yours?”

  Her cheeks burned, although she couldn’t deny it. “Did you come in here for a reason, Price?”

  “Carley is on the phone and she says if you don’t pick up, she’s on the next plane here.”

  Samantha sighed. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

  She waited until he left before picking up the handset and pushing the blinking light. “Hi, Carley.”

  “Don’t ‘hi, Carley’ me! What the heck happened the other night? I’ve left you like, a dozen messages. I was starting to worry that those two men had had their way with you, then stuffed you under the bed.”

  Sam laughed and began to twirl a hank of hair. “No.”

  “No, they didn’t stuff you under the bed, or no they didn’t have their way with you?”

  Distracted by her own memories, Sam suddenly realized that she’d taken too long to respond.

  “You’re twirling your hair, aren’t you?”

  Samantha stopped midtwirl. “No.”

  “Yes, you are. You got laid.”

  Sam blushed. “Well…”

  “The lawyer made his move! This is great news!Abby’s going to die when she hears you’ve snagged an attorney!”

  Sam’s throat closed—she couldn�
�t very well admit that she’d gotten down and dirty with a ditch-digger, not after she’d been the most vehement of the three that they find someone who was their equal on all levels. Teague was a perfect physical specimen who knew how to push her most sensual buttons, but a long-term relationship was out of the question. There was, for example, that little matter of him working only when he wanted to.

  Multiple orgasms notwithstanding, his voluntary unemployment would wear thin after a while.

  “Are you there?” Carley asked. “How was it? Give me details, woman—remember, I’m living vicariously through you.”

  “It was…fabulous,” Sam said, unable to suppress a bubble of laughter. “We did it twice before we even made it to the bed.”

  “Oh, my God. Is he hung?”

  Sam grinned into the phone. “Like a masterpiece in the Louvre.”

  Carley squealed. “And be honest—do you really care about this guy?”

  Sam sat back in her chair and resumed twirling her hair. “It sounds weird, but, yeah, I really do. I can’t explain it, but he’s just so…noble. I feel safe when I’m with him.”

  “Wow, that’s awesome, especially for the short time you’ve known him. So how did you get rid of Teague?”

  Sam stopped twirling. “Huh?”

  “You know, the other guy who showed up, wanting you to look at some plans or something.”

  “Oh…that guy.” Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, reminding herself that Carley thought she’d been talking about her neighbor. “He’s the foreman on the library job site.”

  “Oh, well I guess you couldn’t hook up with him even if he was available, seeing as how you work together. But who cares about a sweaty construction worker when you’ve got an attorney who makes love like a porn star?”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Sam murmured, feeling miserable.

  “What’s his name?”