Sugar Rush (16 page)

Dry
Mix

In
a glass jar combine:

2
cups sugar

1/3
cup powdered milk

6
tablespoons unsweetened cocoa

2
teaspoons powdered vanilla

Dash
salt

Place
a lid on the jar and shake to mix well.

Single
Serving Hot Fudge Sauce

In
an 8-ounce glass Pyrex measuring cup put:

1
tablespoon butter

1
tablespoon water

Microwave
for 40 seconds.

Add
2 tablespoons dry mix to the butter and water mixture.

Stir
with a knife to blend. Avoid splashing chocolate on the inside of the glass.

Microwave
for 42 seconds.

Let
sit 5-10 minutes before pouring over ice cream.

*Cooking
time will vary if cooked in a different sized container or a non-glass
container.

By Anna J. McIntyre

Chapter One

“TO PUT IT BLUNTLY, AFTER SUNDOWN IS A
PICK-UP BAR. MY CUSTOMERS COME TO GET LAID.”

Sonny Martin's exact
words echoed in Kit Landon's mind as she made her way through the front
entrance of the infamous bar. Had jobs not been so scarce and money so tight,
Kit never would have considered accepting the consulting job with After
Sundown, nor would she have agreed to spot the bartender in question. Yet, if
the employee was stealing, Kit would soon find out. She knew all the tricks. It
was her job to know.

Standing alone at the
entrance of the bar, Kit paused for several moments, allowing her eyes to
adjust to the interior of the dimly lit room. After Sundown was definitely a
dive. Thick swirls of smoky gray haze filled the air, creating an atmosphere
that bespoke clandestine meetings and illicit rendezvous.

Several pool tables
occupied the rear section of the darkly paneled room. On the far wall, beyond
the pool tables and parallel to the entrance, was a door leading to Sonny's
office. Knowing Sonny was just behind the wall helped ease Kit's anxiety of
spotting in a bar that, under normal circumstances, she would never patronize.

Sounds of Brooks and
Dunn, originating from the compact disk jukebox, blared from several
wall-mounted speakers. The jukebox was located on the wall opposite a small
alcove in the midsection of the bar. The alcove led to the public restrooms.
Stretching along the right side of the room, the oak bar faced a dozen
stationary bar stools, each fashioned from oak, tarnished brass and faded red
vinyl. Seven battered and worn wooden picnic tables provided seating to the
left of the room. Clientele used the empty floor space between the pool tables
and picnic tables for dancing. More than two dozen customers filled the bar.
Less than a third were women.

Both pool tables had
players, and on the dance floor, two couples pressed together, swaying
provocatively. Less than half of the bar stools were occupied, but three of the
picnic tables were taken. Heads turned to stare as Kit made her way to an empty
bar stool. Eyes boldly appraised the newcomer.

To convince the
bartender that she was just another After Sundown customer, Kit had dressed for
the part. She wore black suede, high-heeled boots with a borrowed denim skirt,
and a pale pink, V-necked sweater. The skirt was too short and the sweater too
tight. Kit felt as if she were dressing up for an adult Halloween party,
wearing her sexy slut costume.

While surveying the
room, Kit absently touched the ends of her hair that fell over her right
shoulder. She smiled, suddenly reminded of her recent trip to the beauty shop.
While her hair was still long, falling a few inches past her shoulders, it now
had a stylish cut and blonde streaks, transforming the once dull brown,
lifeless hair. The pricy haircut and color was a luxury Kit could no longer
afford; it had been a birthday present from her sister-in-law, Susan. Kit had
to admit Susan was right; the new hairdo drastically improved her appearance.

Kit hoisted her
five-foot-six frame onto a bar stool and was conscious of her skirt riding
boldly up her thigh. Uncomfortable with her figure, Kit fought the urge to tug
at the skirt's hem. She had long since come to term with the fact that her
figure would never be willowy. Her shape was voluptuous—full breasted with
ample curves. Exercise kept her firm, but she would never be thin.

Cole Taylor leaned
against the jukebox and lifted his scotch and water to his lips as he studied
the new arrival. Just watching her lush body moving toward the bar made him
hard. He hadn't been with a woman in two weeks, and that had to be something of
a record. She was a hell of an improvement over the usual easy lays coming to
After Sundown seeking sexual release.

Unlike most of the male
customers, Cole came to the bar to drink, and chat with his old friend Sonny
Martin. Indiscriminate, one-night stands with casual pick-ups were a practice
Cole Taylor had abandoned in his youth. Yet, after seeing the tempting curvy
piece, he decided to give her a tumble. Glancing around the room, Cole knew he
wasn't the only one with that idea.

He needed to make his
move fast, before someone else snatched up the prize. Not for a moment did he
think of her as a person. Simply, she was a prime piece. He couldn’t care less
what was in her pretty head. Cole only cared about what was under her tightly
fitting skirt and beneath her snug sweater. By the way that her full breasts
moved beneath the pink knit fabric, he guessed they were real. He certainly
hoped so.

I feel like a lamb chop
in a room of wolves
. Kit chuckled inwardly as she ordered a
beer from the bartender and glanced warily around the room. It amazed her that
a woman could actually pick up a stranger in a place like this and have casual
sex. It wasn't as if she didn't understand desire and sexual need. It had been
two years since she had been with a man, two years since her husband’s murder.
When a woman is thirty-five, and at her supposed sexual peak, celibacy is hell.
However, Kit Landon had been raised with the notion that sex and love were
intertwined. She hadn't slept around before or during her marriage. Therefore,
she wasn't about to start now.

Utmost on her mind was
raising her daughter, Sarah, and earning a living. Any emotional or physical
needs she might have she ignored. She simply didn't have the time. A fifth
generation restaurateur, with a business degree, Kit had successfully managed
her father's restaurant until he died nine years earlier. His medical expenses
ate up the profits from the sale of the family's restaurant and left his
daughter to find employment with a respected restaurant consulting firm. At her
daughter's birth six years earlier, Kit had left her job to become a full-time
mother. With her husband's untimely death, she was forced to return to work.
Juggling motherhood and employment, Kit started her own consulting firm,
enabling her to work from her home. Unfortunately, jobs were scarce.

The cash register,
positioned against the wall behind the bar, was in her direct line of vision.
Although Kit had been virtually raised in her parent's restaurant and bar, she
never patronized anything remotely resembling a dive or pick-up bar. Until now,
any side jobs of spotting usually involved upscale restaurants or hotel
lounges. There, she could take a friend along and chat at the bar while
observing the bartender.

Sonny explained that if
she brought a friend with her to After Sundown, it should be a girlfriend.
Women simply did not bring men with them; it defeated the purpose. Since Kit
had no desire to drag any of her girlfriends to a pick-up bar, especially since
most were married, she agreed to come alone. Kit's brother would be joining her
in about a half hour, playing the role of Kit's pick-up. This would enable her
to avoid the unpleasant attention of the male customers who would undoubtedly
assume she was on the make.

The tall redheaded
bartender eyed Kit appreciatively; he was practically leering. Kit wanted to
reach over the bar top and smack him across his chubby, freckled face. Instead,
she forced a smile and rested her elbows on the oak surface.

"What'll you
have?" the bartender asked as his right hand flicked a cocktail napkin in
her direction. The thin white square floated to rest on the bar top directly in
front of her.

"Coors Light,
tap," Kit answered. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she
leaned forward and crossed her legs. The denim skirt slipped further upward,
exposing a tempting show of womanly thigh.

"Don't believe
I've ever seen you in here before," the bartender commented as he set a
frosty mug on Kit's bar napkin.

"I usually come on
Tuesdays," Kit lied, knowing this bartender never worked on Tuesdays. She
passed the bartender two dollars.

"My name's Chuck.
So, what kept a pretty lady like you away on Saturdays?"

"I usually work
nights on the weekends." Kit smiled and took a sip of beer.

I bet you do!
The bartender chuckled to himself as his eyes briefly glanced over the soft
swell of breasts escaping from the low neckline of Kit's sweater. He turned and
walked to the cash register.

Over her beer, Kit
watched as the bartender slipped her money into the register without ringing up
a sale. When the bartender glanced over to Kit, she absently looked around the
room.

"Chuck! Make us
two bourbon-and-sevens!" one patron called out from the rear of the room
while leaning over to take his shot at the pool table. Kit watched as the
bartender filled two glasses with ice and placed them side by side on the bar,
their rims touching. Chuck held the soda gun and filled the glasses with
lemon-lime, while reaching for the liquor gun. With a quick, fluid motion, the
bartender moved the bar gun over both glasses, splitting one shot of bourbon
between the two cocktails.

Thief, I see you
building your drink in reverse and splitting the shot!
Kit narrowed her eyes in disgust and finished off her beer. She hated thieves.
People who were willing to steal might be willing to do anything. Kit's
husband, Kevin, had been killed by a thief. Killed over a lousy twenty dollars.

"Can I get you
another beer?" Chuck asked Kit a moment later.

"Chuck, let me get
that for the lady."

The deep voice startled
Kit. She had become so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to notice the
male customer about to claim the empty seat to her right.

Turning abruptly on her
bar stool, she came face to face with an extremely handsome man, who was easily
over six-foot-two. As he sat down beside her, his ebony eyes fixed on Kit's
face. His thick, wavy hair was dark brown with a touch of gray, falling just
inches past his collar and tied back in a ponytail. He reminded Kit of a
pirate. Full lips parted into a sensuous smile as his eyes swept over her,
making a thorough appraisal.

Cole was delighted to
discover the tempting baggage actually improved on closer inspection.
Incredible, vivid blue eyes stared back at him through long, dark, spiky
lashes. Her complexion was flawless and clear, with flushed cheeks and a dainty
nose. Unlike most of the women who frequented After Sundown, he could not
detect any makeup, yet suspected she must have artfully applied some to attain
such a stunning appearance. His gaze dropped down to her pouting lips. Noticing
a glimmer of lip-gloss, he experienced a tremendous urge to lick it off. Just
as that thought crossed his mind, her delicate pink tongue flicked over her
lips before disappearing behind straight white teeth. Cole fairly groaned at
the sight, and he could feel the tightening behind his fly. His eyes looked
down and settled on her ample cleavage. Admiring the view for a moment, he
looked back up and fastened on the startled blue eyes that were obviously aware
of his blatant perusal.

Kit never imagined that
any of the men who might approach her would look quite like this. She swallowed
nervously and forced a smile, reminding herself that she was here to do a job,
not to admire the landscape. By reflex, she almost refused his offer to buy her
drink, but stopped herself in time. Instead, she thanked him and flashed
another smile, then moved her gaze away from his scrutiny and fixed on the
bartender who was filling a fresh, frosty mug from the beer tap.

"I've never seen
you in here before." His opening line wasn't exactly original and his
unwavering, intense gaze made his intentions painfully clear. Kit imagined that
any moment he would simply ask,
my place or yours.
Yet, his next words
made her chuckle, forcing her blue eyes to meet his dark ones.

"Are you
lost?"

Kit didn’t respond
immediately, but wondered if all pick-up lines were as lame.

"You don't seem to
belong here. I thought maybe you were lost." The bartender set the mug of
beer in front of her, and she took a sip before answering.

"Don't you mean,
what is a nice girl like me doing in a place like this?" Kit asked,
finding humor in the inane ritual. It all seemed so silly.

Cole's smile widened in
satisfaction. It was obvious this sexy creature knew why women came to After Sundown.