Not Quite Mine (Not Quite #2)(13)
Author: Catherine Bybee

Jo was five foot four on a good day. She wore blue jeans and boots much like the men on the job site, and kept her hair in a simple ponytail. Dean had hired her right out of college without any secretarial experience at all. She’d responded to the employment ad he’d placed when he landed a strip mall contract outside Moreno Valley. The economy had already turned and Dean had to bid the job at a lower rate than he’d wanted to. The secretary in his main office had left unexpectedly, met a guy and ran off or some such thing, and Dean had been left without help. Jo showed up and explained, in detail, just how efficient she was at running damn near everything. In years past, his secretaries would run their end of the business from a central office. Jo didn’t understand running his office from anywhere but a job site. She had no problem traveling to wherever his latest and biggest project was being built. For a little thing, she wasn’t intimidated by men twice her size. She reminded Dean of his other sister, Ella. Jo turned a head or two, but didn’t seem to notice.

“Have you met Jack’s sister, Miss Morrison?”

Jo’s eyes grew wide as she nodded. “I told her that she needed sensible shoes and to wear a hard hat. She politely ignored me, took some plans, and headed toward the main lobby. I didn’t think we’d see her until the drywall was up.”

“I didn’t either,” he said while placing his hat on his head again and then turning toward the door. “How long has she been here?”

“About an hour.” Jo removed a second hat from a hook and handed it to him.

Dean could only imagine what shoes Katie had on and how her waltzing through the construction zone was affecting the workers. He pictured her infamous tight skirts, the ones that screamed to every man with a pulse to stare and weep with want, clinging to her skin. The first time he’d seen her wearing one was at a barbeque at the Morrison ranch. He and Jack were deep into the summer before their senior year of high school. Katelyn was a couple of years behind them but that didn’t stop her from sticking close to her brother and his small posse made up of Dean, Jack, Tom, and Mike.

She’d stepped from the massive oak doors of her father’s ranch home wearing a thin layer of black leather over her ass that curved so tightly there was no possible way she wore panties. Her father, Gaylord, spotted her from across the expansive yard and fell on her like flies on raw steak. Although Gaylord wasn’t a pushover, he didn’t know how to diplomatically make Katie change her clothes. It didn’t help that her friends wore virtually the same outfit, though a tad longer and not nearly as inviting, as Dean recalled.

Katie loved the spotlight, reveled in the attention of the media and all members of the opposite sex. There was no reason to believe she wasn’t traipsing around his job site in a tight little number that would grind work to a halt.

The sound of pneumatic hammers slamming nails into wood grew as he breached the outside walls of the main lobby. A couple of construction workers with slack jaws and wide eyes stared toward the east side of the building.

Dean followed the pattern of awestruck men until he found her.

Bent over a railing on what would be one of the many ground floor suites, Katie’s short, cream-colored skirt rode midthigh. The sight of her slammed his breath from his lungs. Her long legs appeared to ride for miles and the four-inch heels extended them even farther.

Her butt flexed as she straightened and looked up to the ceiling. She reached above her head as if measuring the height of the room.

The memory of her stretching in bed, naked, after they’d made love swam in his mind.

Get a grip, Dean, he chided himself. Drowning in those memories would only lead to heartache. And he’d had his share of that, enough to last a lifetime.

“You need to wear a hat,” he all but yelled in her direction.

Katie jumped and swiveled in his direction. “Dammit, Dean, you scared me.” She brought a hand to her chest as if calming her heart from the shock of him being there.

“If an inspector were here, he’d shut me down if he caught you without a hard hat.”

He took two purposeful strides in her direction and thrust the hat in front of him. He avoided her personal space but couldn’t keep her floral scent from reaching his nose.

She always smelled like spring.

Dean wiggled the hat in his hand.

She sneered at it as if it were a snake. “Who else has worn that thing?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’m not touching it.”

He rolled his eyes and let his arm fall. “You wear a hat, or get off my job site.”

Her mouth dropped. “You can’t fire me.”

“I’m not firing you, I’m telling you the rules. And those shoes have to go, too.”

She stuck out a hip and rested a hand on it. “Will an inspector shut you down for my shoes?”

He wanted to tell her yes, but he’d be lying. “The ground is uneven and there are nails everywhere. Twisting an ankle and contracting tetanus are the most likely by-product of stilettos on the site.”

Katie lifted a leg and examined her own shoe. Her skirt slid farther up her thighs.

Dean groaned.

“I’ve run from half a dozen paparazzi on the cobblestoned streets of Italy in heels like these. I’ll take my chances.”

He thrust the hat in her direction a second time and dismissed the footwear argument. “They’re your feet. The hat isn’t optional.”

After sniffing the air and finding it unsavory, Katie glanced at the top of his head. He read her thought before she managed to voice it.

“Has anyone else worn your hat?”

It had his name on it. No one would consider putting it atop his or her head. “No.”

A slow Southern smile met her lips. Avoiding a forgotten two-by-four, she shortened the space between them and stared at his hat.

This was not a fight he was going to win. He could insist she wear the hat in his hand, but knew he’d end up tossing her over his shoulder and removing her from the site because she wouldn’t wear it. It wasn’t that she was a snob, just particular about what touched her skin.

No matter how the hat ordeal played out, the men on his crew would be talking by the end of the day. Carrying her off the site or letting her wear his hat for the day…those were his options.

He mumbled under his breath and removed his hat before plunking it down on her stubborn head.

She stood a little taller and wore a satisfied smile.

“How do I look?”

Good enough to eat, he thought but didn’t say. The hard hat should have looked ridiculous on her. It didn’t. A completely unwanted sense of pride sparked his ego when he glanced down at his name atop her head. The hat claimed her as his in a completely high school way.