WickedDirty

  Wicked Dirty

  Scarlett Scott

  Ivy may be the odd woman out in the field of construction, but that doesn’t mean she can’t do a man’s job. And in heels, no less. When a subcontractor runs behind on the project she’s heading, Ivy’s prepared to give him a proper dressing down. But when she sees the man in question, undressing him becomes far more interesting a prospect.

  Jake Shaw is proud of the business he’s built and isn’t about to be bossed around by a sassy vixen who clips into his life in cherry red pumps. Their clash is instant, their attraction undeniable, their use of his big desk…delicious.

  Before Ivy can catch her breath she’s breaking all the rules with Jake. The more time she spends with him, the harder she finds it to convince herself he’s all wrong for her.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Wicked Dirty

  ISBN 9781419931048

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Wicked Dirty Copyright © 2010 Scarlett Scott

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication October 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Wicked Dirty

  Scarlett Scott

  Dedication

  For Steve, who changed everything.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Blackberry: Research In Motion Limited

  Lexus: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha TA Toyota Motor Corporation

  Missoni: Missoni S.p.A. Joint Stock Company

  Chapter One

  On Monday morning, a merciless headache began to thump in Ivy Denton’s right temple, partially because she hadn’t yet had her first cup of coffee and partially from impending stress. New to the construction industry—after quitting her marketing job a year ago, she ended up in the very last place she swore she’d ever be, the family business—even Ivy knew it was a bad sign when her foreman looked as if he’d just run over his daughter’s puppy.

  Bruno stopped pacing when he caught sight of her clipping into her office in cherry-red pumps. He glanced down at his dust-spattered construction boots. He was the company’s best and most experienced field man and she relied on him to keep everything under control on the construction site. When he wasn’t onsite, there was always a big fat problem on the horizon.

  “Good morning, Bruno.” She tried for a bright, cheerful smile that was likely more of a grimace. Ivy Denton was not an a.m. person. If you called her after lunch, she was yours. Before then, all bets were off. “How are you?”

  “Not good, Ivy. It’s the St. James Hotel site.”

  With a sigh, she dropped her oversized hobo bag onto her desk and sank into her leather chair. The new St. James Hotel in Baltimore, one of Denton Construction’s largest and most important projects, had also become a giant, splintering thorn in her side. It was the first large account her father had entrusted her with and had caused nothing but trouble since she’d broken ground with the ceremonial golden shovel.

  “There’s a lot riding on this project, Bruno.” Her ass, for instance. Because her father would fire her first and kill her later if she lost money on a forty million dollar account. She pressed fingers to her temples, willing the headache away. “What’s going on now?”

  “The excavators aren’t keeping up. They hit rock, for one thing, and for another, they’re just too damn slow. And now we’ve got other contractors digging their heels, wanting to back-charge us for delays.” Bruno frowned. “I need you to make a trip out to the site and see if you can reason with them.”

  “Me?” she squeaked. Couldn’t help it. She wasn’t dressed to hit the site in her loose but short silk peasant dress. And she certainly wasn’t mentally prepared to duke it out with an excavator first thing Monday morning.

  “I can get your father to come out if you don’t have time.”

  Damn Bruno. He knew just what to say to get to her. Ivy straightened her shoulders. “Absolutely not. I’ll push up my meetings and be at the site around noon.”

  * * * * *

  At exactly 12:42, Ivy parked her Lexus next to a giant cloud of dust that hovered over a line of portable job trailers. Large, earthmoving equipment was whirring and grinding across the empty lot that in just over a year would be transformed into a five-star hotel and conference center. A few workers in white hardhats lingered here and there, one with blueprints curled under his arm, another with a lunch kettle.

  As she stepped out of her car, she spotted a man that was a different breed entirely and the initial sight was enough to send a sharp stab of lust straight through her body. He wore hip-caressing blue jeans, work boots and a green bandana over black hair that peeked from beneath, a little long and wild. He didn’t have on a shirt, and God was she thankful. A sheen of sweat delineated every powerful, corded muscle beneath his golden skin. His pecs were firmly defined, his abs absolutely lickable. Not to mention he was gorgeous, all slashing cheekbones, sexy stubbled jaw and even a cleft chin.

  Down, girl. Ivy closed the car door with a snap, hooking her bag over her shoulder. If she wanted to be considered a professional, a part of this mostly man’s world, she had to stop gawking. And since there was no way she could keep herself from ogling that mouthwatering slab of potent masculinity sauntering by, she busied herself with the pretense of scrolling through her BlackBerry before depositing it safely in her purse. By the time she finished, the sex god was gone but the pulse of need between her legs wasn’t. Damn.

  Turning her mind back to business, she picked her way through the perimeter of the site, looking for her delinquent excavator’s trailer. She located it not far from where she’d parked and headed up the metal stairs leading to the door. The heel of her pump got caught just as she reached the landing. Damn it. She paused to bend over and free it, cursing. As if she needed a reminder she wasn’t dressed for a site visit. Then, to make matters worse, the door swung open as she was in the middle of balancing on one leg and rescuing her poor Missoni from the offensive metal grating. Ivy’s gaze travelled up a pair of long, strong legs to a white t-shirt and an all-too-familiar face.

  It was him, the sexy shirtless guy of five minutes earlier, only he was wearing a shirt and scowling down at her. “Can I help you?” His tone was ice but his voice was melting, sending a skitter of shivers through her.

  “My shoe’s stuck.” She caught her lip between her teeth and winced. “Probably self-explanatory. The heel just went right through the hole and I can’t get it out.” Sh
e couldn’t, either. The stubborn thing seemed to be firmly wedged.

  “Not exactly the right kind of shoes for a construction site.” His eyes were blue, she noted, and he was even better looking at close range than from a distance.

  Her pulse pounded as she realized her face was almost level with his crotch and that his jeans were a snug fit. Unless she was mistaken, the hard line of his cock pressed against the worn denim. “No,” she agreed with him, breathless as she continued to wriggle her shoe back and forth. “Do you think you could spare me the lecture and give me a hand?”

  “Stand up.” He was firm, confident, accustomed to giving orders.

  She stood awkwardly, balancing on one leg. He was a head taller than she, so she had to look up for a few seconds before he sank to his knees. His large, calloused hand closed around her ankle and the contact sent a pulse of heat directly to her clit. Ivy almost toppled over at a mental image of him rucking up her dress and burying his face between her legs.

  “Steady.” He glanced up. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  Flushing, she placed her hands on his thick shoulders. His muscles bunched and moved beneath her fingers as he worked on her shoe. She stared down at his glossy black hair and realized the bandana was gone. His hand slid slowly from her ankle to her calf, leaving a tantalizing trail of heat in its wake. Was he torturing her intentionally, or had his grip merely slipped?

  She couldn’t tell because in the next instant he freed her shoe, popped it back onto her foot and stood, towering over her once more. Not very Cinderella finding her prince. Ivy pulled her hands away from him and flashed him an uncertain smile. “Thanks for saving my shoe.”

  The urge to push him back into the trailer and have her wicked way with him was strong. Until she recalled the reason she was about to enter the trailer in the first place. The excavator was ruining the construction schedule. Was he the excavator? She hoped not.

  He grunted. “The next time you’re on a jobsite, don’t wear heels.”

  Oh no he didn’t. Ivy couldn’t let his talk-down-to-the-stupid-chick routine fly. Sure, construction was a male-dominated industry, but that didn’t mean girls couldn’t step up to the plate and hit a homerun.

  “Thanks for the advice. Has anyone ever talked to you about the importance of wearing clothing on construction sites? That would make a great Toolbox Talk.” She was gaining her momentum, her composure returning with a fresh burst of irritation. “Not to mention safety glasses, hardhat… And those don’t exactly look like steel-tips to me.”

  “I didn’t get the memo that it was time to play OSHA.”

  “Oh really? Could’ve fooled me with your comment about my shoes.”

  He crossed his arms over that impressive chest. “Call me sexist, but I’ve never had to rescue anyone else from the steps before. It was a friendly suggestion.”

  “So was mine.” She gritted her teeth when she smiled. Now she was convinced she’d found her excavator. He had pain in the ass written all over his sexy face. Mentally, she turned the switch back to business. “Let’s call it even. Are you from Shaw’s Excavating Services, by any chance?”

  “Jake Shaw.” He raised a brow, his expression turning sullen. “Who wants to know?”

  “Ivy Denton.” She thrust out her hand for him to shake. “I’m the project manager for Denton Construction. I believe we may have spoken on the phone prior to you signing the contract?”

  Jake Shaw didn’t seem happy to see her. If anything, his expression went from mad to mad as hell. He shook her hand in a quick pump. “We emailed.”

  “Well. It’s nice to meet you in person.” She hired so many contractors she couldn’t possibly keep track of each one, let alone one as hot and surly as Jake Shaw. “Can we step inside to talk?”

  “Sure.” He stepped back and motioned for her to enter the job trailer. “Welcome to my lair.”

  “Thanks.” I think. She followed him inside, taking stock of her surroundings.

  A window AC unit hummed, sending cool air circulating through the narrow space. At one end of the trailer blueprints had been spread out on a drawing table and a desk sat on the other, with two chairs facing it and one behind. There was a laptop on the desk softly playing classic rock from its speakers, a few paper weights, a calendar.

  Jake strode ahead of her and folded his lanky body into the chair on the opposite side of the desk, watching her with a hooded stare. Smoothing her dress down and feeling a little overheated with those vivid blue eyes on her, she sat. His gaze dropped to her mouth and she didn’t think she’d ever wanted to fuck someone more in her life.

  There it was, impossible and yet oh so delicious. She couldn’t very well have an affair with one of her subcontractors. Not only was it a professional no-no, but her father would murder her if he ever found out about it. Besides, business didn’t go with romance, and anyway, Jake Shaw didn’t seem the romantic type. He was curt and arrogant, he was causing her problems on the jobsite, and yet somehow that didn’t matter when she couldn’t stop fantasizing about him running his tongue up her inner thigh.

  She blinked. “The reason I dropped in this afternoon is that my foreman tells me you’re having some trouble meeting our performance schedule.”

  A come-be-naughty-with-me grin kicked up the corner of his delectable mouth. “I’ve never had trouble with performance in my life, Ms. Denton.”

  Oh, she just bet he didn’t. Her nipples puckered. She cleared her throat. “Be that as it may, Mr. Shaw, you seem to be having difficulty with our schedule at the moment. Specifically, you’re delaying us so much that our other contractors are balking and making demands.”

  He rested his elbows on the desk, steepled his fingers and watched her. “I’ll be honest with you. My foreman was causing a lot of problems and I had to can his ass, which is why you see me here. You have my word that we’ll step it up and do everything necessary to get this project out of the ground. We’re making good progress now.”

  She had to admire his work ethic. Not many owners would step in and get themselves dirty with physical labor. But she couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Your word doesn’t mean a whole lot to me when I have half a dozen other contractors calling me and asking for more money.”

  “What exactly do you want from me, Ms. Shaw?” His tone had gone husky and dark.

  Now that was an interesting question, one brimming with intriguing possibilities. She pursed her lips as she considered her answer. Your hard cock deep inside me. Your tongue in my mouth. A fast fuck right here on the desk. In the end, she decided to keep it G-rated. “I want to see more manpower here. Bruno tells me you don’t have a large enough crew. And you could be working two shifts or weekends to make up time. Which would work better for you?”

  His jaw clenched. “Don’t tell me how to run my business and I won’t tell you how to run yours. Even if it means you’re getting your heels caught in the steps at a hundred different construction sites.”

  “Let’s keep my heels out of this, shall we?”

  “Why? You’re the one running around in the fuck-me pumps.”

  Just hearing the words “fuck me” uttered by that mouth was enough to make her wet. She crossed her legs to stave off another wave of unadulterated lust. “First off, if these are fuck-me pumps, I should clearly ask for a refund. And second, you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Those are damn sexy shoes. I’d hate to see you return them.” That scorching blue gaze dropped to her breasts.

  Uh-oh. Suddenly the window AC unit wasn’t keeping the room nearly cool enough. “You still didn’t answer my question,” she reminded him, breathless.

  He stood with slow deliberation, sexual tension crackling off him live-electric-wire style. “What question?”

  She swallowed, watching warily as he sauntered around the desk and stopped inches from where she sat, leaning his hip against the desk. What question, indeed. Ivy couldn’t seem to recall it. He smelled like man, earthy and musky. Their
gazes clashed, sending a searing surge of want through her hungry body. Her eyes raked down over him, recalling every mouthwatering inch of muscled skin hiding beneath that shirt, before lingering on the strong hands hooked into the belt loops on his jeans.

  Think Ivy, think. “Mr. Shaw, this meeting has taken an unprofessional turn.” Because really, having wild and crazy sex with one of her subcontractors in the middle of the day on a jobsite where anyone could walk through the door at any second would be extremely unethical of her. Even if it was what she wanted to do more than anything. “Why don’t you draft up a plan of action and email it to me by the end of the day?”

  He stroked his jaw, wearing an expression that was equal parts seductive and thoughtful. “I’m more concerned with a different plan of action at the moment.”

  A shiver of anticipation swept through her. “Oh?”

  The wicked grin was back on his lips again. “Oh yes, Ms. Denton.” He caught her hands in his and pulled her into a standing position. His fingers tightened on hers.

  “Just what plan of action are you talking about?” The words were out against her better judgment. Her breasts tingled. Her clit throbbed. He was working her into a state using nothing but suggestive looks and an innocent touch.

  With a quick tug, he pulled Ivy flush against him. Her hands went to his shoulders and his found their way to her ass, kneading and molding her even closer to his hard body. The unmistakable ridge of his cock pressed against her belly. His blue gaze fastened on her lips. Their faces were so close she could taste his cinnamon-scented breath.

  “The plan of action where I sit your sweet little ass on this desk, push up your dress and fuck you like crazy.”

  Chapter Two