CHAPTER TWO
TEAGUE TOOK A DEEP BREATHand inhaled the enticing scent that had haunted him for over a decade—Spring Blush. He had seen the perfume bottle among Samantha Stone’s things when he’d spent the night in her bed. But even though she still wore the same perfume, Samantha had changed. Gone was the fringe of blond bangs that she had pushed back from her face as she’d walked through the halls of their high school. Now her long, pale hair was one length and fashionably straight. And the curves he felt beneath her finely cut suit were fuller, more womanly, than the last time he’d held her.
It had been a magical night, one created by desperation on his part. Samantha Stone had been the only thing in high school that had held his interest. Born into wealth and privilege, Samantha had run with the cool kids and had enjoyed the fruits of her social status and beauty. He, on the other hand, had been born into hardship and had run with the kids spoiling for trouble. With her golden good looks and slender curves dressed in the best clothes that money could buy, Samantha had represented everything that Teague couldn’t have. And, despite the haughtylooks she had cast in his direction, his desire for her had kept him awake too many nights to count.
He’d known that Samantha was headed to college in Atlanta after graduation, so, aware that his window of opportunity to get her attention was closing, he and his buddies had crashed Samantha’s graduation party at her father’s mansion. She’d been amused by his actions and had not only allowed them to stay but had wound up spending the night with Teague in the guesthouse—an amazing night of sex and intimate pillow talk that was seared into Teague’s memory. Sometime between midnight and dawn, he had even started to believe he was in love with her. The next morning, however, Samantha was gone, leaving a note that read “Don’t track dirt on my carpet when you leave.”
Humiliated to the core, Teague had vowed to himself that one day Samantha Stone would get her comeuppance. In truth, he was only mildly surprised at the identity of the woman in his arms. He’d always known that his and Samantha’s paths would cross again—he just hadn’t expected her to drop into his life so literally, while he stood ankle-deep in black mud.
If he’d had any doubts that she would recognize him, they were erased by the look of pure mortification—and dismay—on her face. “Teague Brownlee?”
He gave her a flat smile. “Samantha Stone. It’s been a while.”
She frowned, clearly displeased to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m digging a ditch,” he said, stating the obvious. “What areyoudoing here?”
“This is my job site.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yours?”
“That’s right. I’m the architect for the library. And for your information, this ditch you’re digging isn’t on the site plan.”
“Really? Then it should be.”
She narrowed her eyes. A crowd had begun to gather, with wolf whistles and halfhearted applause.
“Good catch, Teague!”
“Looks like you got your hands full, Teague!”
Teague grinned, enjoying seeing her squirm. His sex hardened as she pushed against his bare chest, her soft fingers and biting nails bringing back vivid memories of the last time she had touched him, had coaxed him to the heights of physical release. Eighteen-year-old hormones were suddenly resurrected and raged through his body. Just like that, he wanted her…and he hated himself for it.
Samantha glared at the jeering workers, then at Teague. “I’d appreciate it if you’d put me down.”
Irritation barbed through his chest. “You’re welcome for keeping you from breaking your neck. I see you haven’t changed.”
Samantha glanced at his sweaty, dirty arms, then arched a haughty eyebrow. “I could say the same thing.”
He clenched his jaw—Samantha still knew his soft-tissue points. The moment was oddly reminiscent of thelast time they’d been together—he’d been too dirty for her then, too. Teague tightened his grip on her, not caring that he was soiling her designer suit, then brought his mouth close to her ear. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop your ungrateful behind in the mud.”
Cheers and jeers continued to sound around them. Samantha narrowed her blue eyes. “Because I’m your boss and if you value your job, you’ll behave accordingly.”
Teague pursed his mouth and nodded slowly. “Okay.” Then he opened his arms and let her fall.
She landed with a splat in six inches of goo. From her mouth came a startled cry of disbelief, her eyes wide as the mud enveloped her.
The workers erupted in screams of laughter, and Teague experienced a flash of remorse—she looked like a drowned kitten. He leaned over and extended his hand, but Samantha slapped it away.
“Don’t touch me!” Seeing the way she recoiled from him, his remorse vanished. He crossed his arms to enjoy the show.
She flailed like a wounded animal as she rescued her briefcase and pushed herself up from the muck with a great sucking noise. She stood, mud-soaked from the waist down, the hem of her skirt dragging from the weight of the wetness that had soaked through the fabric, molding it to her shapely backside. She was a pitiful sight, her hair and face splattered, but her chin was high with defiance. The top of the ditch met hershoulder-level. She gave him a lethal glare, then tossed her briefcase up. A couple of grinning men standing above them moved to extend their hands.
“Get out of my way,” she yelled, then proceeded to hoist herself up with her arms and lift herself out of the ditch with an impressive show of strength—and leg. Between the wiggle of her behind, the sight of her toned thighs, and the flash of brown leopard-print panties, Teague had to fist his hands to keep from reaching for her.
When she finally stood above him, her generous chest rose and fell from exertion and, he suspected, anger. “May I have my shoes, please?” she asked in a regal voice.
Teague pondered her request but conceded that she’d have a hard time getting home without shoes. He leaned over and fished her high heels out of the mud, turned them over until the goop stopped running out of them, then reached up to set them on the ground. She slipped her stocking feet inside the shoes, picked up her briefcase, then latched on to him with blazing blue eyes. “You. Are. Fired.”
