The Hot Spot Read online

  But Kaleb remained in the shower, knowing that he was stalling.

  The night of his father’s birthday dinner, he’d gone home and slumped down in his favorite recliner in front of the television. And he flipped through the channels. And flipped some more.

  Eventually the sight of a pretty, dark-skinned beauty had caught his attention and he paused to watch the movement of her full lips as she spoke. Eventually her words began to filter through his fascination with her look. She was a relationship “expert” giving out advice on finding the love of your life.

  If you can admit that a lot of your relationships ended because of your own inability to be one hundred percent present in your relationship, consider that you may have had a relationship that could have been successful if your goals and motivations were different.

  Her words came back to him as he finally turned off the shower, pushed aside the ebony shower curtain, and stepped out. He barely covered his damp nakedness with a towel as he crossed the spacious tiled bathroom into his unkempt bedroom. His clothes were already laid out across his unmade bed. His hair was freshly cut. His beard eradicated. His hygiene was on point.

  Date time?

  “I’d rather milk all my cows by hand by my damn self,” Kaleb muttered as he used the towel to blot the last of the beads of water from his deep bronzed skin. Fine thick hairs covered his chest and feathered down to narrow between the hard groove of his six-pack before spreading out to surround his now limp but heavy dick swinging across the top of his thighs as he moved.

  Kaleb grabbed a pair of clean boxers from the basket of clothes he still needed to fold—or at least shove into the drawers of his dresser. He was just grateful he’d remembered to toss a load of clothes into the wash last night. He was a bachelor living alone in a three-bedroom home and putting most of the hours of his workdays into keeping his farm successful. Kahron swore that Kaleb needed to follow his lead and hire a maid, but Kaleb caught enough hell keeping his mother from showing up with her cleaning supplies. No maids.

  Keeping an eye on the time displayed on his digital cable box, he hurried into his clothes, which were freshly dry-cleaned. With a quick double spritz of cologne on his neck, Kaleb grabbed his wallet and keys from atop the loose change scattered on his dresser.

  Moving quickly, because he hated to be late, Kaleb strode out of the room and across the long, narrow hall into the open, spacious area housing the living room, den, dining room, and kitchen. His footsteps echoed across the tiled floor as he reached the oversized front door. Once in his car and headed up the highway, he thought twice about even going through with the date.

  If you can admit that a lot of your relationships ended because of your own inability to be one hundred percent present in your relationship, consider that you may have had a relationship that could have been successful if your goals and motivations were different.

  For the last two weeks, he had gone through his extensive list of exes and tried to consider which could have been the love of his life. He could admit that a long-term relationship hadn’t been any part of the equation for him.

  Had he overlooked Mrs. Right because his high sex drive had him keeping his eye on—and his dick in—Mrs. Right for My Bed?

  One date a night on top of the rigorous work on his dairy farm and he was mentally worn out and physically feeling the effects of heavy meals and lack of sleep—and lack of evidence that he had overlooked the woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.

  Tonight?

  As he pulled into the front yard, Kaleb fixed his ebony eyes on the door of the single-wide trailer with pink shutters. His ex, Yvette. He released a heavy breath as her front door opened and she stepped out onto the top of the small stoop with a soft smile.

  Could the soft-spoken kindergarten teacher he’d dated a few times a few years ago be the one?

  Two hours later, Kaleb pressed his elbows against the table as he fought like hell to keep his eyes open. Some of his fatigue was the full day they’d spent moving the fences around the paddocks they were ready to graze for the next month, but the majority was because he had zoned out on the date fifteen minutes in. Yvette was bossy and demanding, as if he were one of her kindergarteners.

  “Kaleb, it really is not good manners to place your elbows on the table,” she said, and then gave him that soft smile that irked the hell out of his nerves.

  His eyes squinted as he continued to watch her while she pierced his naughty elbows with her eyes.

  Kaleb was beginning to wonder what the qualifications were of the sexy expert from the television besides looking yummy enough to attract any man her heart desired.

  While Yvette explained proper etiquette to him, no words from her mouth reached his ears. He was pretty good at tuning people out—something that used to frustrate his parents when he was a child and wanting to annoy them.

  As he replayed in his mind the string of dates he’d had over the last two weeks, he visualized the face of every woman as if their head were morphing like those in that Michael Jackson “Black or White” video.

  Veronica, the pretty real estate agent with the naturally curly long lashes: “Kaleb, I need a man to focus his all on me. It’s 2011 and I’m not taking any shorts. It’s all or nothing, baby.” Nothing. Next!

  Malika, the sassy Walmart cashier with long nails and even longer braids. “Don’t you think you should dye your hair?” she had asked, twirling one of her talons in the direction of his head. Whoa. Next!

  Jhavon, the full-figured widow who was a whiz at tongue tricks. “Listen, there’s no need to lie. Me and my kids missed you, Kaleb,” she said, rubbing circles on the palm of his hand. And that was five kids. How could he forget them? ALL FIVE of them? Next!

  Anna, the nurse with soft eyes and an even softer touch. “So the therapist said I was finally over my ex and am ready to move on to a new relationship. And then you called. It’s fate. I think we were really meant to be together forever. Right?” Wrong. Next!

  And Francine, the agile attorney with a round face and large features that were usually angelic. “So you think every woman falls for the sexy-farmer thing and just lets you hit and split, huh?” she had asked sharply. “And you ask me out to dinner two years later, and I should be happy to be graced with your presence, huh?” Uh-oh! Next!

  And a few more disasters he refused to dwell on.

  The point was, none of them were his idea of the one.

  “Kaleb! Your elbows. My goodness,” Yvette said through clenched teeth, glancing around at the other diners as if they, too, were looking at his elbows on the table in reproach.

  “Yes, they are my elbows,” he stressed. “My almost-thirty-year-old elbows to go along with my almost-thirty-year-old behind that doesn’t need to be treated like a preschooler.”

  She dramatically inhaled a deep breath as she leaned back and looked at him with her mouth open in what could only be indignation.

  Kaleb raised his hand. “Teacher, may I get a hall pass to go to the bathroom?” he said, his deep tones tinged with sarcasm.

  Her bottom lip dropped another inch.

  Kaleb stood and made his way across the crowded seafood restaurant to the restroom, needing a moment away from her more than anything. He actually felt bad about being rude, but her “do this, don’t do that” manner really grated on his patience. Still, he knew she deserved an apology and a better attitude from him. Those things she would most definitely receive. Another call from him? That was a negative.

  “Excuse me.”

  Kaleb turned his head and looked down at the sound of a woman’s voice behind him. His eyes landed directly on a full bosom in a crisp white dress shirt with an opening that exposed creamy brown flesh and a diamond-encrusted heart pendant snuggled in cleavage.

  He jerked his eyes up . . . and met a pair of twinkling and amused eyes that were filled with laughter. An energy radiated between them and made him feel light-headed in just an instant.

  “Enjoy the view?”
she asked with a slight arch of her brow, before she continued past him into the crowded lobby.

  His mouth fell open a bit as he watched the way she moved with confidence, her sequin heels peeking out beneath the wide-legged black slacks she wore. She was tall. Very tall. And curvaceous. Everything about her was soft—but not sloppy. Firm and curvy.

  She looked back over her shoulder and their eyes met.

  Kaleb felt like a strong hand punched him in the gut and then squeezed his heart in a fist as his eyes took her in. She was really pretty with high cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes were filled with fun and laughter. She smiled at him, and her face went from pretty to radiant.

  The crowd shifted and she was gone from his sight.

  Kaleb felt disappointed that the moment had passed.

  “Kaleb.”

  He turned in surprise to find Yvette standing behind him with her pocketbook swinging on her thin shoulder. “Obviously this little reunion isn’t working, and there’s no need for us to have an uncomfortable forty-five-minute ride back to Holtsville, so my father is here to pick me up.” She nodded toward the door.

  “That was fast,” he said, looking back down at her.

  “My parents live in the apartment complex around the corner,” she said before moving past him.

  “Listen, Yvette, I’m sorry about snapping at you at the table—”

  “I accept your apology,” she said stiffly over her shoulder, steadily walking toward the door. “Good-bye, Kaleb.”

  Thinking it sounded more like good riddance than good-bye, Kaleb walked back to the table to pay the bill and tip their waiter before he turned and finally made his way to the restroom to relieve himself.

  Zaria smiled at the elderly couple as they rose from their bar stools to go and claim their table in the restaurant. She picked up their half-empty glasses, emptying the contents in the sink before placing the glasses in the tray for the busboy to retrieve.

  The restaurant was packed, and a lot of the overflow was spilling into the bar. She had barely wiped down the wood in front of the vacated spots before another couple occupied the bar stools.

  “Good evening. What can I get for you?” Zaria asked, setting small square napkins in front of each of them.

  “I’ll have Absolut straight on the rocks,” the man said.

  The woman leaned against her man’s arm possessively. “A glass of Moscato.”

  “Coming right up,” Zaria said, fighting the urge to tell the woman, “Baby, I do NOT want your man.”

  It was clear the woman took one look at Zaria and assumed (1) she wanted him and (2) she had what it took to get him.

  Zaria could only shake her head as she poured their drinks. The last thing she would ever want to do is share a man. The pickings were not that slim, and her values were not invisible. Discovering there was another person in your relationship had a way of making the idea of being a side chick distasteful.

  She wasn’t going to do unto others what was done to her. No haps.

  Zaria made sure to keep a polite but distant smile on her face as she set their drinks and their bill before them. He paid and tipped her well.

  “Thank you,” she said warmly, then moved away from him and his scowling woman.

  Zaria motioned to the restaurant owner that she needed a bathroom break. He finished what he was doing and came over to relieve her. As she made her way around the bar, a glint of silver hair caught her eye. She assumed the broad shoulders belonged to a fit elderly man until she eased through the people in the crowded lobby and lightly touched his back as she tried to pass him. “Excuse me,” she said, feeling the definition of his muscles beneath the navy and white checkered shirt he wore. Do Grandpa!

  She looked up as he looked down over his broad shoulder. His eyes fell directly to her cleavage. She studied his features, more than intrigued at the sight of his youthful, handsome, and sculptured face framed by a low-cut fade of his silver-flecked hair. He could be no more than thirty—if that. He was prematurely gray and it worked for him.

  As did the deep-set ebony eyes above high, warriorlike cheekbones and a square chin with a strong nose straight from the motherland. The hardness of his beauty was softened only by the feminine length and curl of his lashes. A small and jagged scar on his cheek did nothing to deter from his looks.

  The warmth of his muscular frame seemed to radiate through her hand and then course over her body until she tingled in awareness. Her pulse. Her nipples. The now-throbbing bud snuggled deeply within her thick lips below.

  He looked up at her face and their eyes met.

  Something unspoken and palpable happened between them. Something fierce and quickly moving. Something unlike anything she had ever felt before.

  Not even with her husband.

  “Enjoy the view?” she asked him, reaching for frivolity to break the moment, slightly arching her brow.

  Breaking the stare and quickly removing her hand, she continued past him and through the crowd to the hall leading to the restrooms. She was still a bit flustered by her instant reaction to the man, feeling nervous and anxious. Just before she entered the lavatory, she looked back for him. He was gone.

  His image was clearly embedded in her memory. The feel of his body under her hand. The subtle but sexy scent of his cologne and natural scent blending in the air around him. He was sexy and silver. Interesting. Damn interesting.

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” Zaria fanned herself as she entered one of the many stalls.

  Minutes later, she left the stall and washed her hands thoroughly at one of the bowl sinks. She dried them with hand towels before she readjusted her clothing in the mirror.

  Her uniform of white shirt and black slacks left a lot to be desired. If it wasn’t a requirement for her position as a bartender, she would burn the pants and wear only the shirt, open with a white tank underneath. But c’est la vie.

  She did what she had to do to make a living. And she had to work.

  Her ex-husband, Ned, wasn’t a wealthy man who could afford enough alimony for her to continue being a stay-at-home mother—especially when their children were over eighteen and in college. She was awarded some alimony and the house—with the remaining mortgage payment to go along with it. It was either that or she moved out and accepted a buyout offer from Ned, or she sold the house and split the profits—if any. She chose to keep it and fight like hell to pay for it.

  Besides, after a quarter of a lifetime being a stay-at-home wife and mother who got blindsided by love and life, she wanted to be out of the house working and living the life she had put on hold.

  She was just over forty, and entering college left no time to work to pay bills.

  She barely knew how to open the e-mails her girls insisted on sending her, and she didn’t want to be inside an office all day.

  She didn’t want to learn how to run a register, or wait tables, or clean hospitals, or anything else for that matter.

  Zaria wanted to do something she liked doing and knew she would have fun doing it. She loved clubbing, looking sexy, and after a night of harmless flirting with a sexy bartender, she decided that’s what she wanted to do!

  Thankfully she had a lot of fun learning to mix drinks during the two-week course, and “studying” with sexy Halil. Every time she crushed ice, she had to make herself not think of the tricks he could do with an ice cube. He and that ice trick had been her eye-opener to the wonderful world of younger men.

  Taking a deep breath, Zaria smoothed her hair behind her ears, her oversized crystal insideout hoops flashing in the lights above. “Just one more hour,” she told her reflection, then left the restroom.

  She made her way back to the bar, reclaiming her spot from the owner, who look relieved. She smiled at all her patrons as she checked to make sure everyone had a drink before them.

  Zaria had just slid a Mojito in front of a suit-clad middle-aged man when a flash of silver showed in her peripheral vision. She turned. Sure enough, it was Sexy Silver walking fro
m the restrooms toward the front doors of the restaurant. Her eyes dipped to take in his bowlegged walk.

  He looked up suddenly and directly at her, his steps becoming hesitant before he nodded briefly and continued out the door alone.

  Zaria could easily see him being one of her Hot Boyz—her nickname for the younger men in her life who were sexy as all get-out and just as eager to keep a smile on her face. They aim to please, she thought saucily with a little mischief filling her eyes.

  “Zaria, I’m out, girl.”

  She looked over her shoulder at Pat, one of the waitresses, standing at the end of the bar. “Lucky you,” she said, eyeing the measure of triple sec she poured into the heavy-duty blender.

  “I’m going home to change and then head to Club Energy,” she said, leaning her elbows on the bar as she played with her micro braids. “You know Trey Songz is performing, girl.”

  Zaria visualized the sexy young’un with the sultry voice. “Mr. Invented Sex, huh?” she asked.

  Pat nodded. “If one drop of sweat falls off his body, I will be front and center to catch it in my mouth.”

  Zaria frowned playfully. “That serious, huh?”

  “Most def.”

  Zaria laughed. “Club Energy, huh? I might come,” she said, focusing on pouring tequila into the blender.

  Suddenly the soft baby hairs on her nape tingled as if lightly touched. Her intuition told her that someone was behind her, watching her, causing a slight shift in the energy around her body. And she knew. She knew before she even lifted her eyes to the mirror that he would be in the reflection.

  Her heart swelled as her pulse shifted into overdrive.

  There he stood at the bar. The reflection of his body was right over her shoulder as if he stood directly behind her. She couldn’t lie. They looked good together. Damn good.