Kate's Crew by Jayne Rylon

Kate wiped her palms on her paint-splattered cutoffs before adjusting her grip on the rebuilt window casement. A flash of tan skin drew her attention to glistening muscles. They rippled over five sexy frames as the crew renovating the townhouse next door hammered nail after nail into their first-story roof, just a few feet below her perch.
    From inside the bedroom where she worked, she inched to the edge of the ladder rung then craned her neck through the opening in front of her for a glimpse of the intricate tattoo spanning Mike’s broad shoulders.
    Instead, she caught him reaching up to their stash of supplies for another pack of shingles. When her gaze latched onto the drop of sweat that slid along his neck, she forgot to breathe. She watched in fascination as it journeyed over his defined pecs and six-pack abs. After it was absorbed in the ultra-low-riding jeans snugged to his trim hips by a bulging tool belt, she heaved a sigh of relief.
    Kate swiped at a blob of paint that had plopped onto her wrist unnoticed while she’d ogled Mike. Her tongue moistened her lips as she imagined licking a similar trail down his body. The edge of the fresh trim gouged her thigh as she strained for a better view. The gasp she made busted her. His head lifted, catching her spying. Great, now she’d never convince him to take it easy with his persistent innuendo or date invites. And, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t indulge either of their desires.
    Mike threw her a dazzling victory grin. The anticipation sparkling in his cocky stare blasted a shockwave through her, screwing with her balance. The ladder wobbled then tipped. She probably could have righted herself if she hadn’t been standing on tiptoes to maximize her view of the scenery. In slow motion, she watched his expression morph from flirtatious to horrified.
    Kate flung out her arms in an attempt to catch the frame before she tumbled through it but the momentum swung her around. Her temple grazed the custom-made pewter latch she’d instal ed the day before. She hung, suspended in midair, as Mike rose from his crouch. The other guys began to turn toward her, but he was already sprinting for the edge.
    Terror froze her insides when he launched himself across the ten-foot gap between their houses. Then she spun away, losing sight of him. She braced for imminent impact.
    Shit, this is going to hurt.
    Everything happened at once. Air whooshed from her lungs when she slammed, on her side, onto the roof.
    She rol ed, flexing her ankles in an attempt to find purchase that would halt her skid toward the brink. But her knee wrenched at an awkward angle while she continued to rake over the slate. Her hand caught the ridge of an attic vent, slowing her descent, but gravity overcame the tenuous hold. Her frantic fingers recoiled from the sharp metal edge.
    The gutters rushed closer, her last hope. After that, she’d have to pray the evergreen shrubs would cushion her, preventing any broken bones. The heels of her work boots hit the aluminum edging but kept going. Her legs dangled in thin air.
    Then a strong hand banded around her wrist. Her arm nearly jerked from the socket as she lurched to a stop.
    Kate shoved on the edging shingles with her free hand, fighting to stay on the roof.
    “Son of a bitch!” Mike hauled her the rest of the way up.
    “Sorry, been eating too much fast food on this job.” She surprised herself by squeezing false bravado past the thudding of her heart and the constriction of her throat. Mouthing off beat bursting into tears of relief in front of the construction-chief-turned-action-hero she’d lusted after for months.
    “Now’s not the time to be a smartass. You could have gotten yourself killed.”
    “It was your damn fault.” She didn’t wait for him before scaling the slope toward the safety of her window.
    “ My fault? We told you that ladder’s a piece of shit. You’re too stubborn to get a new one.”
    “My grandfather’s