Free Kate's Crew by Jayne Rylon Page A

ladder works just fine.” She ignored his helpful boost. The way his hand spanned her ass, cupping her, would pitch her off the precipice again if she wasn’t careful.
    Mike climbed in so close behind her the heat of his defined chest scorched her bare arms. She attempted to leap away from the temptation of his security, but a spike of agony rolled up her ankle, buckling her knees.
    His solid biceps banded around her, molding her to his chest as they sank to the floor together. “Jesus, I’ve never been that scared before.”
    No kidding.
    “You shouldn’t have pulled that stunt, Mike. Who do you think you are? Jackie Chan?” She struggled to break his hold before her adrenaline rush coerced her into doing something stupid, but the weak attempt didn’t budge him. Unable to fight them both, she surrendered, resting her forehead on the side of his neck. She bit her cheek to keep from licking the pulse pounding within reach of her lips. “But thank you.”
    He framed her face, lifting it to his scrutiny. His forest green eyes widened at her automatic compliance. He stroked wisps of hair from her cheek with the knuckles of one hand. Mike’s hunger etched into the rugged set of his full lips, igniting a flame of longing in her core. They leaned into each other, mouths parting, when the clomp of work boots shattered the moment.
    Bulky forms honed by years of manual labor invaded al the free space in the spare bedroom. Then a chorus of testosterone-laden cheers stifled her hushed conversation with Mike.
    “That was awesome!”
    “Way to go, Mike! Dude, when you nailed that slide I thought for sure you were going over the edge with her.”
    Joe leaned down to give Mike’s back a solid clap. The impact jostled Kate, making her wince.
    “Careful, she’s hurt.” James knelt beside them, running his capable hands over her arms, verifying she hadn’t broken anything. She flinched from his touch but not because it hurt. Of al the guys, he seemed the most reserved—quiet, confident and sensitive. She’d been tempted to spil her guts to him on more than one of their shared breaks. But she’d never figured out how to phrase her longing without coming off like a slut. What would he have thought of her decadent curiosity?
    “No, I’m fine. Really.” As long as you didn’t count the throbbing in her head, the zing racing up her leg every time she moved or the lust saturating her nerves at every place she made contact with Mike.
    “I’m going to take her over to St. Anthony’s. It looks like clear skies. We’l finish the roof tomorrow.”
    Though the five men were partners, Mike seemed to make the majority of the decisions. He had a knack for business, handy for managing their house-turning enterprise. They’d bought the brownstone next door not long after her grandfather had passed away, bequeathing his home to her. She couldn’t count the number of times they’d sacrificed progress on their project to give her a hand with the minor renovations she’d taken on, or lent her their tools. Sometimes she suspected they hung around longer than necessary when they’d sensed her melancholy at roaming the big house alone.
     
    She’d also lost track of how often she’d found herself daydreaming about one—or more—of them bending her over a sawhorse, their tools clanking together as they sought payback for their assistance. Or spread her out on the lush grass under the oak tree for an entirely different kind of refreshment at the end of the day.
    Kate had stopped counting the depraved permutations at a mil ion and one. But how could she watch their sexy bodies in motion, share lunch and beers after a hard day’s work, or observe their camaraderie without wanting to be a part of it? Wanting them?
    “Come on, Katie.” Neil gave her shoulder a tiny shake that broke her from her reverie. “You’re zoning on us.
    Let’s get you checked out.”
    “Not necessary.” She tried to smother their objections but one versus