Red Hot

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Authors: Niobia Bryant

BOOK: Red Hot
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Also by Niobia Bryant
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Hot Like Fire
Make You Mine
Give Me Fever
The Hot Spot
Live and Learn
Show and Tell
Message from a Mistress
Mistress No More
Mistress, Inc.
Heat Wave
(with Donna Hill and Zuri Day)
Reckless
(with Cydney Rax and Grace Octavia)
RED
HOT
NIOBIA BRYANT
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
P
ROLOGUE
Holtsville, South Carolina
 
Kael Strong looked up from reading the local newspaper to see Lisha, his silver-haired wife, of more than forty years, stepping out onto the wraparound porch of their home. His heart still pumped double at the sight of her. Kael knew that even blindfolded he would be able to locate her among a crowd of women by nothing more than her scent or the pull of the fiery chemistry that never stopped blazing between them. He loved her and needed her. Period. Point-blank.
And he knew it was the love between him and his wife that played a big role in all of his sons following his lead and claiming the women they were meant to spend the rest of their lives with. Kade, his eldest married son, had been blessed with love a second time after the death of his first wife, Reema. Garcelle Santos had been just the woman to heal his heart and help him raise his daughter, Kadina, who was starting the school year as a freshman. Now they had a son, Karlos, who was the perfect addition to their family.
Kahron had completely forgotten his playboy ways when Bianca King had arrived in town to run her father's struggling horse farm—the business Kahron had been hoping to purchase in order to expand his own cattle ranch. The pretty vet now ran the ranch, her business, and her family—including Kael's grandson KJ.
Kaeden, who could very well have been the twin of Kahron, if they weren't born so many years apart, had found love with a woman who was his total opposite. Kaeden was the only one of his boys who had never taken to the outdoors—or womanizing—so Kael had been just as shocked as his boys when Kaeden proved to have won the heart of Jade Prince, a sexy outdoors guide. They were especially surprised, since Jade had her pick of men that came in contact with her.
And then there was Kaleb, the ultimate bachelor, who had a line of women willing to be his playthings, falling headfirst for Zaria Ali, a woman in her early forties who was more than fifteen years older than he was—even if she didn't look it. Their union blessed Kael with a third grandson, their recently born son, Kasi Dean, as well as Zaria's twin daughters, Meena and Neema. Of course everyone overlooked that Kaleb was just five or so years older than his stepdaughters!
That left just his baby, Kael's only daughter, Kaitlyn. She had him wrapped around her finger; and even though she was in her mid-twenties Kael found it hard to tell his daughter no. It would take a strong-willed—and very wealthy man—to tame her. Even now, she was off in Paris with her friends, and Kael could only pray she didn't do too much damage during one of her infamous shopping sprees.
Yes, he was a lucky man with a good, strong, and loving family . . . and the woman before him played a huge role in that.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Kael Strong?” Lisha asked with amusement. She self-consciously raised her hand to smooth her hair as she moved to sit in the black rocking chair, which matched the one her husband sat in.
Kael smiled wolfishly as he reached out quickly to grab her wrist and then gently tugged her, until she was sitting in his lap. “I was just remembering how beautiful you looked on our wedding day,” he whispered up to her before he kissed her cheek and snuggled his arm around her waist.
Lisha made a playful face. “That was a lot of years and a lot of pounds ago,” she mused, lovingly patting the arm with which he held her securely.
“And everything has gotten better with age,” Kael told her, using his free hand to slap her bottom. “And I mean
everything
!”
Lisha laughed at his roguish tone as he nuzzled her neck. “We are on the porch. Somebody might drive up,” she weakly protested.
“Humph. That didn't stop us that rainy night back in 1992.”
Lisha fanned herself at the memory. “Sure didn't,” she purred, closing her eyes.
Brrrnnnggg.
“Damn,” they swore fiercely in unison at the intrusion of the ringing phone.
Lisha reached into the front pocket of her apron for the cordless telephone.
“Man, forget that phone,” Kael complained, reaching for it.
Lisha shook her head. “It might be an emergency with the kids,” she said, slipping out of the role of lover to full mother mode as she answered the call. “Hello . . . yes, this is the Strong residence. I'm his wife.”
Kael threw up his hands as Lisha rose to her feet and stepped away from him. “Go on back to sleep,” he drawled, looking down at his crotch.
“What?”
Lisha exclaimed. Her eyes were as round as her lips while her mouth formed a shocked circle.
Kael instantly rose to his feet. “What's going on, Lisha?” he asked; his protector instincts were kicking in.
Lisha pushed the cordless phone into his hand roughly. It was her turn to throw her hands up as she paced. “You get this phone call because you and the rest of the men of this family created this mess. I told you to stop spoiling her. I told you. Well, what you got to say now, Kael Strong? Wait to you hear
this
shit,” she snapped, with eyes blazing.
Kaitlyn.
And it had to be major. Lisha barely ever cursed.
Kael turned his back and pressed the phone to his ear. “This is Kael Strong,” he said as Lisha continued to complain.
“I told you that y'all were not helping her with that mess!” his wife ranted.
“Mr. Strong, we were just explaining to your wife that major purchases of over thirty thousand dollars have been charged in Paris, France, to one of the cards on your accounts—”
Kael closed his eyes and hung his head to his chest as he leaned his hip against the railing of the porch.
“You better get your little chocolate version of Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian or whoever the hell she
thinks
she is. Thirty thousand dollars! To buy what?”
“Mr. Strong, we wanted to make sure the card was not being used fraudulently.”
“Yes, I thank you for the call, but I doubt very much that it is . . . although I would like to check with my daughter, who is in Paris, and make sure she hasn't lost the card,” Kael said.
Lisha threw her hands up again even higher. “Enough is enough, Kael Strong. I'm calling a family meeting and I am putting a stop to this ‘spoiling Kaitlyn' bull. I let y'all mess up my daughter for far too long. And I mean it. Enough is enough,” Lisha said coldly. Then she entered the house in a flash, slamming the screen door loudly behind her.
Kael finished up the call, putting a daily spending limit on Kaitlyn's card. He knew that from out of the country his daughter had just sent his sex life into a cold freeze, and it wasn't going to thaw anytime that night.
C
HAPTER
1
“Paris is my new favorite place!” Kaitlyn Strong sighed as she used her slender hand to push back the dark French silk curtains of the windows of her suite in the five-star Hotel de Vendome. The luxury hotel, situated in the center of Paris, had served as the perfect backdrop to her days spent in the middle of the shopping district, located just minutes from the historic museums. It was an enjoyable week of luxurious shopping, sightseeing, and partying for her and her two best friends, Tandy Ray and Anola Graham. It was their last big summer trip, and they had spent the last part of August, which slipped into the first of September, in beautiful Paris.
What more could three divas ask for?
She sighed, knowing that she was going to miss Paris. It was a long way from her small hometown of Holtsville, South Carolina. Not that she had a bad life in the small Southern town.
Far from it,
Kaitlyn thought, looking over her shoulder at the dozens of designer shopping bags from a hellified spree, where she denied herself not one blessed thing.
I deserve it. Plus my daddy wants me to have nothing but the best. . . . Why disappoint him?
Kaitlyn shrugged and turned to look back out the window, enjoying the Paris sun as it shone on the smooth and unmarred caramel complexion of her face. She thought about seeing her family, and that was the only thing that made leaving Paris (and her new
friend,
sexy Jean, the DJ) bearable. She reminisced about her father's kiss on her forehead, her mother's cooking, the teasing from her four older brothers, Kade, Kahron, Kaeden, and Kaleb. She thought about getting all of the family gossip from her sisters-in-law, Garcelle, Bianca, Jade, and Zaria; filling in her twin stepnieces, Meena and Neema, on Paris nightlife; surprising her teen niece, Kadina, with the rhinestone heart-shaped purse she bought for her, and pressing her glossy lips onto the cheeks of her nephews, Karlos, KJ, and baby Kasi.
They were a close-knit family and Kaitlyn loved them, but growing up as the only girl among such a manly bunch made it necessary to take these little girly getaways with her friends. Even with the addition of each of her brothers' wives, she still felt at odds with their settled-in lives of family and work.
Kaitlyn was all about having fun, and living well while doing it. She hardly had the time to waste brainpower on the daily comings and going of some man or the tedium of a job.
That mess is for the birds.
Her rancher father and brothers made sure that the princess of the family had nothing more to do on the ranch than ride her beloved horse, Snowflake. Not once had they inferred that she needed to hang around funky farm animals to make a living.
As if,
she thought, looking down at her soft hands.
Bzzz . . . Bzzz . . . Bzzz . . .
Kaitlyn looked around the room at the sound of her cell phone vibrating. “Damn it,” she swore softly as she searched through her discarded designer clothing, which littered the floor, and kicked off her shoes.
Bzzz . . . Bzzz . . . Bzzz . . .
She jumped onto the king-sized bed and pulled back the crisp cotton sheets and duvet, flinging pillows and lace panties over her head. And there it sat. Kaitlyn grabbed it as she fell back against the bed and checked the screen.
It was Jean—the sexy DJ with the smooth skin so dark that she was disappointed to find he really didn't taste like chocolate. “Uhm, uhm, uhm,” she said aloud at the memory of his kisses and his touches.
But all of that was done, and she already had moved on. She and Jean had said their good-byes last night after walking through the Paris streets together. She had absolutely no plans to chitchat internationally with a dude from Paris and get all caught up in her emotions, particularly when she had no plans to visit Paris again, anytime soon. Kaitlyn had lots of male friends she could call in the States to dine, chat or party with. And since Kaitlyn was one party girl not giving up the panties easily there really was no reason to lead Jean on.
“Moving on,” Kaitlyn said, sighing. She was already filing away the sexy Parisian as she let the call go to voice mail and dropped her cell phone back among the mess.
She rolled off the bed. She twisted her full lips as she looked at her empty Louis Vuitton luggage, her dirty clothes scattered over the suite, and the shopping bags filled with all of her fashionable finds. Right about now, it was all looking like a five-thousand-piece puzzle to her.
Packing is going to be a bitch.
She considered shoving it all in, wherever it fit, but then shook her head.
Knock, knock.
Kaitlyn shifted her slanted eyes to the door of her suite. She frowned a little at the thought of Jean standing on the other side.
I can't stand a clingy man,
she thought as she made her way out of the bedroom and across the sitting room to open the door.
Kaitlyn's annoyed expression changed at the sight of one of the hotel's bellhops.
“Packages for you,
mademoiselle,
” he said with a heavy French accent.
Kaitlyn stepped back and opened the door wider for him.
“Merci,”
she said softly, her eyes dipping to take in his firm buttocks in his uniform pants as he entered the room and set the glossy shopping bags carrying the items she splurged on during her most recent shopping spree. He placed them on the gilded-gold antique French sofa.
She grabbed the sequined clutch she carried last night and pulled out a twenty-euro note to press into his hand as he nervously eyed her slightly exposed décolletage above her robe. Kaitlyn smiled at him teasingly as she used her fingertips to lift his chin and force his eyes to meet hers.
“Bonjour,”
she told him, with her eyes twinkling, as his face and neck immediately reddened as dark as tomatoes.
He backed away, turned, and then scurried for the elevator.
During their stay Kaitlyn and her friends learned just how much white Parisian men loved them some black women. And the darker, the better.
Kaitlyn stepped back to close the door but then jerked it open and poked her head down the hall. “Hey, you. Come here,” she called out as the elevator doors opened.
He turned and hurried back to her. “Can I be of service?” he asked.
Kaitlyn started to say something fresh to him, just for kicks, but decided against it. She glanced down at his name tag. “Listen, Gustave,” she said sweetly. “Do you think my maid will pack my bags for me?”
“The maids are not allowed in the rooms with the guests,” he said apologetically as he shook his head.
“I'll pay one hundred euro . . . but they only have, like, an hour. In and out.”
The bellhop's eyes widened a bit. “I'll do it,” he said, his accent making it sound like he said, “I'll do eet.”
Kaitlyn bit her bottom lip flirtatiously as it was her turn to shake her head. “Oh no, Gustave. The only man who touches my undies is the one lucky enough to get them off.”
He visibly swallowed as his neck and cheeks flamed again. “I'll ask my sister.”
“
Merci . . .
and it'll be just between us,” she whispered up to him, showing off her wide, playful, and innocent eyes.
Kaitlyn was a born flirt who knew when and how to turn it up. She could turn a grown man to mush without even breaking a sweat.
She laughed a little as he rushed back to the elevator as she grabbed her room key before walking down the hall to knock first on Tandy's door, and then she'd approach Anola's. During their many adventures they learned rooming together meant disaster . . . especially if one of her friends was in the mood to get it on for the night.
Kaitlyn was of the firm belief that even among good friends you never revealed
all
your business. Friends who became enemies had the ammo to destroy you. For Kaitlyn she wasn't even having it. There were plenty of things that no one knew but her and God. She liked it that way just fine.
Tandy's door opened. “Hey, girl,” she said, her voice just as filled with sleep as her puffy hazel green eyes.
Kaitlyn pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Anola's door. “Anola still sleeping? Shit, even I been up for a few.”
Tandy plopped down on the padded window seat and opened the sun-filled window as she lit a cigarette. “That's if she in there.”
Kaitlyn moved over to press one knee onto the window seat as she opened the curtain. “Or if she in there alone,” she drawled.
“Hello!” Tandy agreed as she ran her freckled fingers through her naturally curly reddish brown mop of hair.
Of the three Anola was more . . .
in touch
with her sexuality.
“Next time we come, we are definitely staying more than a week,” Kaitlyn said, running her manicured ebony fingertips through her short-cropped pixie cut. Her hair color was such a deep jet black that it had to be dye. Like her brothers, she was prematurely gray. Unlike her brothers, though, Kaitlyn straight handled that with regular trips to her hairstylist.
Everyone in the family understood the dye; but when she suddenly decided to chop off her long, flowing, thick hair to the ultrashort pixie style, which framed her slender face, they acted as if she had slapped Baby Jesus.
“Definitely,” Tandy agreed.
Kaitlyn pushed aside the thoughts of the Apocalypse that her haircut had caused. Instead, she looked down at the hotel's beautiful courtyard. A lot of the hotel's guests were already enjoying their breakfasts amid the Paris sun and the floral landscape.
“I'm hungry,” she declared. “We don't need to be at the airport until five, so we have time to hit a few stores this afternoon. I have a maid coming to pack me up—”
Tandy nodded eagerly as she blew a stream of smoke out the window. “Ooh, good idea. She can do yours now and then mine while we have breakfast.”
“Hundred,” Kaitlyn called out over her shoulder.
“Cool.”
She didn't have to look to know her friend shrugged without a care.
Tandy's father owned a huge trucking company; just like with Kaitlyn, money was never a problem. In fact, Anola, the daughter of a top cardiologist, was blessed as well.
Kaitlyn walked out the door and walked straight into Anola and a short, stout man kissing like one of them was about to leave this earth. Kaitlyn cleared her throat, and they still went at it as he turned her petite friend and pressed her body against her hotel room door.
Kaitlyn's eyes widened and her mouth opened as he grunted and raised the hem of Anola's short sequined skirt with his broad hand.
“I would tell y'all to get a room, but since he got you hemmed up against the damn door, obviously y'all ain't about
that
life,” Kaitlyn quipped, flashing a comedic frown, before turning to head to her own room. She didn't do or watch soft porn on any DVD
or
in real life.
“
Au revoir,
Marques.”
“Jusqu'à ce que nous nous reverrons, Anola.”
Kaitlyn paused at her door at the sound of their breathy good-byes. She had no clue what he said, but it was enough to make Anola push out a dramatic sigh as she pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss before he turned to walk to the elevator.
Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. “Anola, that was so
The Young and the Restless.
Like . . . really? Really?” she asked jokingly as her friend's boo-thang stepped into the elevator.
Anola fanned herself before raising her index fingers in the air to mark off well over eleven inches of length in front of her heart-shaped pretty face.
Kaitlyn arched a brow. “Ooh. Was it like
that
?”
“
Oui, oui,
on the wee-wee,” Anola joked as she pulled her room key from her purse and unlocked her door.
Kaitlyn couldn't do a thing but laugh before they both entered their rooms.
 
 
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Charleston International Airport. Local time is eleven twenty-five
A.M.
, and the temperature is seventy-six degrees.. . .”
Kaitlyn allowed herself one final stretch before she removed her silk eye mask and looked out the window at the airport.
Home, sweet home,
she thought, feeling truly excited to see her family even as her five-ten frame ached and cried out from having been trapped in an airplane seat all night during their nine-hour flight from Paris.
First class or not, Kaitlyn decided, there was nothing better than sleeping in a bed.
“Glad that's over,” Anola grumbled as they gathered their totes and prepared to deplane. “I'm going straight home and straight to my bed.”

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