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.