Trinity Falls. Regina Hart
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is where I turn back. Enjoy the rest of your run.”
“I’ll join you.” Ean’s response was swift.
“That’s not necessary.” Megan declined his offer just as quickly.
“It’s still dark. I can’t leave you to jog home alone. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
His words weakened her resistance. She fought hard not to give in. “Don’t cut your run short on my account. I’ll be fine.”
“I can come back to the park after I take you home.” And then he flashed his wicked grin. Deep dimples creased his cheeks. Hypnotic lights danced in his olive eyes.
Megan blushed at the direction her thoughts took. “All right. Thank you.”
They arrived at the tree with Megan just a half step behind Ean. In silence, they circled it, then jogged back the way they’d come.
Megan glanced at Ean’s strong, chiseled profile. Sweat molded the gray T-shirt to his pectorals. Her brain cells leaked from her ears. She kicked up her speed, anxious to end this torture.
Ean’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “What hobbies do you have besides jogging?”
“Why are you asking so many personal questions?” She tossed him a cheeky grin. “Are you going to ask my sign next? My favorite color?”
Ean laughed. “I only want to get to know you better.”
Her stomach seemed to drop. “What are your hobbies?”
Ean was silent for a moment. “I don’t think I have any others. In New York, all I did was work and run.”
She was angry for him. That wasn’t a life. “Reading. I like to read.”
His chuckle strummed the muscles in her lower abdomen. “Your face was always buried in a book.”
“And you, Darius and Quincy were always arguing over comic books.” Her blush was becoming a permanent condition.
“We weren’t arguing. We were debating.” His eyes warmed as they shared the memory.
Megan exhaled in relief as her grandparents’ house—now her home—came into view at the end of the block. “I’ll race you.”
She issued the challenge to mask her desperate need to escape him. Ean laughed as he pulled away from her. A latent competitive streak stirred to life inside Megan. She dug deeper, raising her knees and pumping her arms, straining to keep up with him, hoping to pass him.
Her gaze dropped to the fine, firm muscles of his derriere. A thread of an idea sewed into her mind. Megan reached forward and grabbed the waistband of his black gym pants. Ean came up short. The surprise stamped on his copper features was comical. Megan laughed as she sprinted past him.
She tapped the sycamore tree in front of her home and threw her arms above her head. “I won!”
Ean slowed to a stop beside her. “You cheated.”
Megan was breathless from exertion and giddy with victory. “That wasn’t cheating. It was strategy.”
Ean’s eyes dipped to her mouth. “It was cheating.”
His voice was a low, wicked rumble. Megan sobered. Ean’s head drew closer. His scent—sweat and musk—clouded her thoughts. The burgeoning heat in his eyes rendered her motionless. This moment was her young girl’s fantasy, but his nearness stirred every inch of her woman’s body. All she knew was his heat, his touch, his eyes. And all she wanted was his taste.
CHAPTER 7
Ean leaned closer. Too close. His movement wrenched Megan from her trance.
She staggered backward—away from the sycamore tree, away from Ean. Away from temptation. “Excuse me.”
She stumbled up her walkway, tripped up the five redbrick front steps and fumbled into her home. With shaking hands, she relocked her door before collapsing against it. Her legs felt like water balloons. Her heart galloped like a startled horse. What had just happened?
Gripping the doorknob, Megan leaned toward the smoked side window on her right and spied on Ean. Her breath caught in her throat. He was still beside the tree. His long, lean body stood in profile as he stared at the sidewalk. Unobserved, she could allow her gaze to touch every inch of his hard, muscled form. Loose-fitting black running pants covered long, strong legs and lovingly cupped his tight glutes. His sweat-stained gray jersey molded his flat abs and chiseled pecs. Her fist clenched the doorknob. She wanted the courage to go back down her walkway and ease the ache building inside. She needed the sense to keep this locked door between them and protect her heart. What should she do, give in to desire or hold on to common sense? Before she could decide, Ean turned and jogged back toward the park.
Damn it!
Megan leaned against her front door. What had she been thinking? Ean Fever wasn’t for her. Her roots were planted deep within Trinity Falls, Ohio. Almost from birth, Ean had been searching for other soil. She was too old to be weaving fantasies about the town’s most popular boy falling in love with her and living happily ever after. Fairy tales were for books.
She pushed away from the door and plodded to her upstairs bathroom. Even if Ean had returned to Trinity Falls to stay, he’d come back for Ramona. She’d been rejected in favor of her cousin before. She wouldn’t allow history to repeat itself.
Ean stood in Quincy’s office doorway hours later, watching the former running back review papers. His childhood friend had become a university professor. Very cool.
He knocked twice on Quincy’s open door. “How does it feel to be the one giving the grades instead of getting them?”
Too late, Quincy masked his surprise. “‘It is better to give than to receive.’”
“Good one.” Ean grinned at the glimpse of the old Quincy. “You have a minute?”
“I have to teach a class.” That quickly, the window into their shared past closed.
Ignoring Quincy’s attempt at a brush-off, Ean pulled the door closed behind him and settled into one of the two cushioned chairs in front of the pale modular desk. “We have plenty of time. It’s nine o’clock. Darius said you only have afternoon classes on Wednesdays.”
Quincy scowled. “I have to prepare for those classes.”
Ean leaned into the chair and propped his right ankle onto his left knee. “I only need ten minutes.”
Quincy’s air of resignation was even more puzzling. “What can I do for you, Ean?”
So formal. “You can start by telling me why you’re pissed off that I’ve come home.”
“Why would I be upset?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
Quincy’s eyes hardened. “I’m sorry if I’m not showing you the right amount of deference, but I don’t have to play follow the leader—follow you—anymore. I walk my own path now.”
Ean’s brows launched up his forehead. “‘Follow the leader’? What the hell are you talking about?”
Quincy remained silent.
Maybe this confrontation hadn’t been a good idea. Ean was more confused today than he’d been Tuesday morning. He dragged both hands over his head as he rose to pace. Unfortunately, Quincy’s office was comfortable but small.
The framed Professor of the Year Award hanging on the off-white wall to his left distracted him. The recognition wasn’t surprising. Quincy was determined to be the best at whatever he chose to do.
A small coffeepot stood on a black metal cabinet in a corner behind Quincy’s chair. Two wall-to-wall bookcases faced each other from opposite sides