Heated (3 page)

“Oh, okay, well, please show me where I’m staying,” Bianca said through tight lips before climbing the stairs.

“Third room to your right, top of the stairs.”

Bianca turned to see Trishon climbing into a red BMW. The woman said nothing else and just reversed the car in an arc before accelerating forward in a flurry of dust.

Disgusted with them both, Bianca entered the house. She had barely closed the front door behind her, however, before she froze where she stood. “Sweet Jesus. What… in… the…
hell
?” she whispered in shock.

Gone was the French country décor that Bianca remembered to be replaced by a design style she could only name “gaudy chic”—leopard print rugs and throws, crimson slashes of material that made the room look like it was bleeding. Leather. Beads. Glass. Metal.

Bianca just rolled her eyes heavenward. Had her father lost his ever-loving mind? Had she for returning to this chaos?

She climbed the stairs, her suitcase in her hand, mindful of the changes Trishon made to what was once a beautiful, classy home. The woman had accomplished changing it to a remake of The Best Little Whorehouse in South Carolina. But she was not here to judge, no matter how bad she thought Trishon’ taste was. In two
weeks she’d be back in her more…
sedate
… Atlanta home, living her own life.

Trishon had assigned Bianca to her mother’s old sewing room, but any traces of that were gone. It was replaced by every possible shade of purple satin—or was it polyester? Everything from lilac to violet. It looked like the room threw up purple.

She didn’t even bother unpacking. She decided to take a look around the ranch because her father wasn’t home to give her access to his books. Without even changing out of the vintage jeans, tank, and sneakers she wore, Bianca jogged back downstairs and left the house.

The barn—which was the centerpiece of the business—was a good mile down from the main house. Bianca decided to walk it and headed in that direction. She was anxious to see the horses and meet the ranch hands.

Growing up, King Equine Services had been one of the leading horse ranches for the boarding and breeding of horses in the low country. They used to have a waiting list for people looking to purchase a horse bred and trained by Hank King. He was known for his method of humane and effective training approaches for horses. He seemed to have an affinity for horses, probably through heredity—his own father started the ranch—and through trial and error.

That love of horses and other animals had been passed on to Bianca; thus, her career as a equine vet. She, too, seemed to be blessed with an innate ability with animals. Being a vet gave her the opportunity to make a good deal of money and lots of respect in her field, but she was also surrounded by the horses she loved so much. To her the animals far outweighed the money.

So, it bothered her to think that legacy of quality work and care might be lost. How bad were things? Was it salvageable?

The summer sun was blazing down on her without any shelter from its rays. As she turned down the worn path leading to the area behind the old bunkhouse, Bianca’s steps faltered at her first sight of the gable-styled barn—or what was left of it. The structure had not survived what obviously was a fire. What was left was charred, broken, and decrepit. Useless.

Questions flew to mind. The who, what, when, and why of it all.

As she stood in the center of that great field, the tips of the grass dried and yellowing from the heat, Bianca looked around. Not a soul was in sight: the horse pens were empty, no one using the handling chutes to safely contain a horse while trimming feet or treating injuries, no hands walking the horses that should’ve been boarded, the obstacle courses were desolate.

Uh-oh.

Things were bad. Worst than she thought. If her father didn’t get his behind home ASAP she would hunt him down and drag his butt home to explain to her to just what the hell was—or wasn’t—going on.

Kahron steered his truck down the long, winding dirt road leading to King Equine Services. Night had fallen and he was hoping Hank was at home so they could talk. That would save him a trip to Charlie’s, a small wooden shack at the end of a dead-end road whose namesake sold beer and liquor and allowed the local men to play cards—for a cut. Charlie’s was located on the other side of Holtsville, nearer to Summerville, whereas the section of Holtsville he lived in was nearer
to Walterboro. Kahron really wasn’t up for the drive or the socializing tonight.

His truck had just passed the grove of trees that made that stretch of the road seemed black as midnight when he caught sight of the house. He saw a figure on the porch rise as he neared.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he thought with a roguish grin.

It was the curly haired beauty he saw in the convertible earlier today. She looked even better standing.

Hank had bragged that his daughter was coming home, but never had Kahron imagined her to be so beautiful. Guess he was picturing a female version of Hank—which wouldn’t have been a pretty sight for anybody’s eyes!

She was tall and shapely, something clearly defined by the form fitting jeans and tank that she wore. From her straight up stance he knew she was comfortable in her skin, something that made her even sexier to him. Her reddish-brown hair—he didn’t know what else to call it—was the perfect compliment to her light complexion. Her features were feline, with wide eyes and high cheekbones. She had the fullest lips he’d ever seen, and the small mole over her left eyebrow made her all the more endearing.

Kahron was intrigued by her. He felt drawn to her. His pulse quickened and he felt that same nervous awareness he used to get around pretty girls when he in his awkward teens.

But this was the odd part. Standing before him, highlighted in the darkness by the porch light and his headlights, was a beautiful woman with a sexy figure—the type of woman he used to have wet dreams about—but it wasn’t her beauty that drew him in. It wasn’t the lure of the naughty pleasure her body could bring him. It wasn’t
the thrill of her luscious lips tantalizing parts of his body—above and below.

It was the moment of sadness he saw reflected in her hazel-green eyes.

Just before Kahron parked and cut off his truck lights he saw her lips shape into a frown. He opened the driver side door and rose a bit so that she could see him. He liked that her face shifted to surprise and then pleasure—she remembered him as well. In an instant he wanted to be the one to take that sadness from her eyes.

Bianca sat on the top step of the porch waiting for her father’s return. She glanced down at her watch. He had been gone for well over seven hours.

“No wonder the business’ gone to pot,” she muttered, just as headlights reflected in her eyes.

She rose, ready finally to have the conversation with her father that she rehearsed in her head all afternoon.

As the truck neared, she saw that it wasn’t her father’s vehicle. She looked on as the truck parked next to Trishon’s BMW and the drivers door opened.

Her heart swelled as the moonlight glinted off of the top of his silver head. It couldn’t be him, could it?

Her eyes locked on him as she looked into his face.

Oh, yes. Yes the hell it was.

Bianca started to walk down the steps to him, but stopped herself. His shades were gone, but it was him and Bianca felt an awareness of him that made her absolutely breathless.

His hair looked so divine against his bronzed complexion that she knew was more sun cooked that heredity.

“Hi. How you doing? Is Hank home?” he asked in a warm, deep voice that she knew could emit a guttural
cry as a woman brought him to a seductive climax.

Breathe, Bianca, breathe
.

Then she realized she still hadn’t spoke.

Talk, Bianca, talk
.

“No, he’s not home yet,” she said, wanting to do something to stall him from leaving her presence.

“Could you tell him Kahron Strong stopped by?” he asked.

Strong, huh? Like strong loving
?

“I’m Bianca. Bianca King,” she said suddenly, hating the eagerness of her voice as she went ahead and moved down a step.

It worked to stop him from climbing back into the truck. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kahron, huh? That’s different?”

“It’s a family thing,” he said, smiling so broadly that his white teeth gleamed.

Uhm, uhm, uhm
.

“That’s nothing, my father’s name is Kael and my Mom thought it was cute to name us all with a K,” he said, actually moving around the open car door to come closer.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out in the valley between Bianca’s breasts. Something about this man just did
it
for her.

“So there’s Kaleb, Kade, Kaeden, and Kaitlyn.”

As Kahron put one booted foot up on the bottom step and leaned casually against the banister, Bianca slowly sank to sit down on the step and looked up at him.

“Wow you have a big family,” Bianca said, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I was an only child.”

“There are positives and negatives to big families, especially when you add on the uncles, aunts, cousins,
nieces, nephews, in-laws, family pets…”

At that moment the same lab from earlier today leaned its head over the side of the truck and barked twice as it tongue hung from its mouth like a bell.

Bianca laughed, that inevitable snort escaping her mouth as she did.

Headlights illuminated from the road and Bianca leaned to the left to look, while Kahron looked over his shoulder.

She recognized her father’s truck and was filled with relief.

His truck rolled to a stop in front of the house barely missing the rear of Kahron’s truck. They both watched as Hank’s big body lumbered out of the truck, walking like he had the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.

“Evening, Hank,” Kahron greeted, his eyes squinted as he watched the other man.

Hank had been looking down at his feet but his head jerked up at the sound of Kahron’s voice. He stopped, wobbling a bit on his feet, as he peered at Kahron as if he saw three of him instead of one. “Oh shit no, Strong. F–f–f–first you… you want my land and now… and now… and now you sniff in’ up my daughter’s t–t–t–tail. Hell naw I say,” Hank ended on a roar, his words slurring together.

Seconds letter he took one lumbering step toward Kahron and swung. When Kahron shifted one step to the right, Hank’s body twirled in a full circle before he fell forward to the ground, causing a cloud of dust to rise up around his frame.

Bianca dashed down the stairs to him, immediately surrounded by the acrid fumes of alcohol. She bent, trying to help him to his feet—no easy task.

Kahron stooped to help him as well, but that only sent
Hank flying forward again as he jerked away from the younger man.

“Don’t t–t–t–t-touch me, Strong,” he garbled. “
No
means
no
, you young sh–sh–sh–shit.”

Bianca finally helped him to his feet, her arm around his waist, as she guided her father up the stairs. His weight put a strain on her knees as she struggled to hold them both up.

“Good night, Bianca.”

She wasn’t physically able to turn and look at Kahron—and she regretted that—but she briefly raised her hand to him before entering the house. Soon she heard his truck door slam and the crunch of his tires against the road as he drove away.

“Want my ranch… damn vulture,” was audible from her father’s drunken gibberish. “Bunny… home… help… n–n–n–now… there.”

Trishon walked into the room as Bianca struggled to get him to a crimson sofa that looked like grotesque, oversized lips. She set a reddish-looking drink on the coffee table and pulled the leopard print throw from the love seat atop him. “Just leave him there. He’ll get up after while.”

Bianca eyed the drink. “And what is that?”

“A little something to keep him from having a hangover in the morning,” Trishon said over her shoulder, on her way out of the room.

Bianca moved to leave the room as well. She paused at the entrance, her hand on the light switch as she looked back at her father in his drunken stupor.

Nothing at all had changed.

3

Surrounded by the bluest of skies as she lay back naked among a bed of clouds, Bianca smiled mischievously. Kahron knelt at the edge of the clouds between her wantonly open thighs, his lengthy erection in his hand as he massaged the full length of it and then squeezed the thick, smooth tip.

Her eyes devoured every bit of him. From his broad shoulders, to his muscled chest with just the right amount of soft, flat hairs, down to his rigid abdomen. His member was long, thick, and throbbing, just begging to be touched, stroked, and tasted. She found it odd that soft curly hairs surrounding his shaft were ebony—unlike his silver-flecked head.

“Touch it,” he demanded huskily, biting his bottom lip.

Her hands moved from above her head to stroke down the length of her silken body. Hotly, her eyes caressed him as she used her slender fingers to open the moist folds of her core. She loved the way his eyes pierced her as she began to pluck the rose colored bud gently, causing the heat to rise in her belly. Bianca purred like a kitten at the pleasure she brought herself, her hips arch
ing to meet her own fingers.

“Oh, Bianca,” he moaned throatily, releasing his tool. It rose to slap lightly against his abdomen as he used his hands to grab her strong thighs and jerk her body upwards until her core sat at his chin and her delicate back pressed against his thighs.

“I wonder if it tastes as good as it smells?” he asked, his words blowing softly against her heated and throbbing flesh.

Kahron jerked her body a bit higher until his mouth fit easily over the whole of her wetness and his chin sat smuggled against the delicate crease of her fleshy buttocks. He used his tongue to lick her lips.

Bianca’s back arched off his muscled chest as he ate her like he was starved.

The cloud began to slowly spin, rotating about the skies whose hues deepened to violet and crimson. Round and round as he suckled her fleshy bud between his teeth and caused her thighs to quiver.

“Kahron,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

Brrrnnnggg
.

“No,” Bianca whimpered as the cloud began to disintegrate from beneath them and she felt her body slipping down the length of Kahron’s frame into a blue abyss…

Brrrnnnggg
.

Bianca sat up in bed, her hands still pressed intimately between her legs, her heart pounding from being abruptly awakened from a dream. A damn good dream.

Disoriented, she looked around the room feeling like she was in purple hell.

Where am I?
Holtsville.

What is that noise
? Cell phone.

Bianca climbed out of bed, wiping the moisture on her fingers on her oversized T-shirt before she snatched
up the cell phone from where it sat charging on the dresser. “Hello.”

“
Bonjour, beau l’un
.”

Bianca rolled her eyes heavenward. “Good morning, Armand,” she said, pulling off the satin cap she slept in to protect her curls.

Figures
he
would be the one to wake her from one hell of a wet dream.

“What time is it?” she asked him, her eyes still squinted with sleep as she moved to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“It’s noon,
mon cherie
.”

Bianca never slept late. “What can I help you with, Armand?” she asked, ready to get her day rolling.

“
Me permettre de faire l’amour à vous
.”

She released a heavy breath. “No, you cannot make love to me. But you can
se masturber
until your hand falls off,” she told him with pleasure.

“Don’t tease me,” he begged.

Bianca actually laughed.

“Okay, I called because there’s an emergency meeting with the United Way and I need a fax number for the admin to send your absentee vote on how to divide the campaign funds this year.”

Bianca rose from the bed to walk over to her still packed suitcase. “I’ll have to get my Dad’s fax number and call you back with it.”

“Good. Oh, and Bianca?”

“Goodbye, Armand,” she said, hanging up the phone before he could spout another lewd comment in English
or
French.

Bianca didn’t even bother calling to check her office, she had a capable staff who didn’t need her trying to hover over their work via cell phone. Besides, she wanted
to catch up with her Dad before he hauled tail for the day.

She locked her bedroom door and then pulled her nightshirt over her head as she walked into the adjoining bath. It wasn’t until she was under the spray of the shower that she thought of her sexy dream about Kahron.

As she lathered her body with her favorite Carol’s Daughter body cleansing gel in Jamaican Punch—a heavenly blend of raspberry, peach, jasmine, nutmeg, and cardamon—Bianca wondered if in fact all of the hair on Kahron’s body had silvered. Not that it mattered one bit. If he was half as good in real life as he was in her dream, well…

The feel of the water pelting against her breasts and the steam rising to press warmly against her skin didn’t help the ache of arousal she felt.

It had been so long since a man drew her attention the way Kahron did.

No matter how badly she wanted to feel his long, slender fingers on her nipples, that’s not why she was back in town. Especially since she didn’t know the reason her father was so angry and rude to the man. Yet another of the gazillion questions she had for her father, and the sooner she got downstairs, the sooner she’d get some answers.

Bianca finished her shower Kahron-free, eventually dressing in fitted jeans and a T-shirt with “SEXY VET” stretched across her ample chest. She didn’t bother with make-up, leaving her face smooth and naturally pretty, but she did put on her large diamond hoops and thin chain with a diamond cross pendant—her first gifts to herself once the clinic was out of the red. She wore them always.

Bianca found her father in the dining room nursing a cup of coffee. His eyes were red as fire as he shifted them away from her. Bianca swallowed all of her reprimands—
for now.

“What happened to the barn?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked down at him.

“Strong burnt it down,” Hank growled, his hand tightly gripping his cup of coffee.

Bianca looked confused. “Are you kidding me? Why isn’t he in jail?” she asked, already reaching in her back pocket for her cell phone. “I’m calling the police.”

Hank shook his head and waved his hand. “No need. They said there’s no sign of arson. Fire department says faulty wiring.”

“What did the insurance company say?”

Hank remained quiet.

“No insurance,” Bianca stated, her anger at her father steadily rising.

Bianca counted to ten as she slid her thin cell phone back into her pocket. “If this is the case why do you think Kahron did it?”

“He wants my land,” Hanks spouted, slamming his beefy fist on the dining room table and causing the coffee in his cup to slosh over the side onto the glass.

Bianca sought patience. “And?”

“I don’t trust him. Never did really. Had me fooled before, but I can see clearly now.”

“Because?”

“Around the same time he started making offers to buy me out somebody’s been pulling shenanigans around my damn ranch.”

Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Like what, Daddy?”

“Letting the air out my tires, releasing the horses, contaminating my water supplies, stealing equipment… should I go on?” Hank’s ire was evident as he stuck a
Marlboro cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

Bianca remained quiet.

“I ain’t selling my land!”

“I wish you had the same gusto about not drinking,” she drawled.

Hank just glared at her.

Needing a reprieve from his tirade, Bianca just nodded.

“I’m going to take a look at your books today. Is that okay?” she asked, finding it hard to keep the disappointment from her voice.

Hank nodded. “Whatever you want, Bianca.”

She crossed the dining room to reach the swinging door leading into the kitchen.

“Bianca, I’m—”

She left the dining room, the
swoosh-swoosh
of the door swinging back and forth ate up his words.

Trishon was at the stove, still dressed in a short and sheer mint green housecoat. She turned to look at Bianca over her shoulder, smiling warmly. “Mornin’, Bianca. I’m just finishing breakfast,” she said in a cheery voice.

“Good morning,” she said. Bianca longed for shades as the screaming orange of the walls caused her eyes to ache. She reached for two tall glasses from the red dish rack and moved over to the adjacent corner to fill one with coffee, creamer, and sugar.

“Your Daddy just loves my scrambled eggs,” Trishon said, her southern accent prominent as she lifted the pan to scoop some of the eggs onto a plate.

Bianca carried the glasses to the refrigerator, using the ice maker on the door to fill the empty glass with ice. “Smells good,” she said, walking over to the island as she poured the coffee over the ice.

Trishon carried two steaming plates out of the kitchen, backing out with them in her hand. “Help your
self,” she offered.

Bianca sipped her coffee as she peered down into the pan. The eggs looked fluffy enough but there was little reddish-brown flecks in them. Frowning a bit, she used a fork to dig one of the flecks out of the eggs and tasted it. It was a little hard and had a familiar flavor to it… kind of like bacon… more like—

Bianca eyes widened in recognition and her eyes then noticed the large open container of bacon bits sitting on the counter next to the stove.

“Who puts bacon bits in eggs?” she muttered, deciding right then she wasn’t hungry.

Bianca carried her glass out of the kitchen. “Daddy, I’ll be in the study. If you’ll just meet me in there when you’re done with breakfast,” she said, continuing toward the hall.

Hank looked like he’d rather eat nails, but he nodded before scooping a pile of eggs into his mouth.

“Actually, Hank has to help me with a quickie—I mean a quick chore upstairs and then he’s all yours,” Trishon said, reaching over to caress Hank’s hand with her index finger as she licked her fork and gazed into his eyes.

Hank’s broad face broke into a grin bigger than the state of South Carolina and Bianca had to fight not to frown at the thought of their “chore.”

As they shared a kiss over their weird breakfast she gladly left them alone.
Mama must be spinning in her grave
.

He was paid well for what he did, but even he had to wonder to what end did someone want to see the King ranch ruined. Atop a hill in the distance he used binoculars to look down at the King spread. His gaze
fell on the convertible Volvo.

King’s daughter was back in town. His loins stirred at the thought of her. There was no denying her appeal, but he had not intention of pursuing her. Still, he could dream of those big lips pleasing him.

He laughed at the thought, letting his hand drop to roughly stroke his erection.

She had no idea what she just walked into.

Kahron sat behind his massive black walnut desk in his study, his eyes locked on his phone. He leaned forward in his seat to reach for it but paused, eventually drawing his hand back and leaning back in his chair.

He wanted to call Bianca.

He laughed at his nervousness over simply picking up the phone and calling her.

When he got home last night she had been on his mind: the beauty of her eyes, the sound of her laughter, the subtle scent of her perfume.

But there was more to it than that.

He wanted King’s land and although the stubborn drunkard refused, Kahron knew it would be just a matter of time before it was his. So why not sooner than later?

Everyone in town knew Bianca left home for college and never returned. Although Hank bragged on his daughter, the successful veterinarian, it was obvious their relationship had to be strained. Now she was back, and he had to wonder what role did or would Bianca play in all of this?

“Women or money?”

Startled, Kahron looked up to find the oldest of his four brothers, Kade, striding into his study. His square and handsome face filled with surprise and a toothy
grin. “Women or money what?” he asked, sitting up in his leather chair.

Kade raked his long fingers through his hair as he folded his tall frame—nearly six foot five—into one of the leather club chairs in front of Kahron’s desk. Like all of the Strong men Kade’s hair had prematurely grayed in his mid-twenties. He wore his in short, thick curls—a testament to their mother’s Native American heritage—that framed his square face. Women liked to say he looked like Rick Fox, N. B. A. player and soon-to-be ex-husband of Vanessa Williams.

“Women or money trouble,” Kade answered, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees in the navy blue Dickies uniform he wore—Kade’s preferred gear for working on the family ranch in Walterboro.

Kahron, like Kade and the rest of the Strong boys, considered himself a businessman who owned a ranch, but definitely not a typical cowboy; so, there wasn’t a Stetson, tight-fitting Wrangler’s jeans, or typical cowboy boots to be found in his wardrobe. They listened to hip-hop, wore Sean John suits for business and Roca-Wear or the like for pleasure. When it came to the necessities of boots for work they all preferred Timberlands or boots of the like.

The Strong men stood out like sore thumbs at the local rodeos and cattle auctions—and that’s just the way they liked it.

“Neither,” Kahron finally answered, even though an image of Bianca smiling up at him drifted to mind.

“That’s what your mouth says,” Kade said—an indication that he thought his brother was lying.

“Where’s Kadina?” Kahron asked, changing the subject.

“At the ranch. Probably driving Ma crazy as always.”

Kahron smiled as he thought of his beautiful six year-
old niece. “First grand and she runs the whole family with a smile.”

“Bad ass,” Kade said with a huge loving grin. “She told me to be home in an hour. Can you believe that?”

“With Kadina? Yes.”

“What you getting into tonight?”