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 mid-thigh. 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. “Damn it, 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.
