Too Hot To Handle

by Amanda McIntyre

  To Hot To Handle

  By

  Amanda McIntyre

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  TO HOT TO HANDLE

  Copyright (c) 2005 by Pamela Johnson

  Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Sable Grey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.

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  www.VenusPress.com

  ~*~

  Seventy-five flavors, Jen thought she'd get sick of repeating the litany to the sweaty little kids who couldn't read. She adjusted the spaghetti strap of her bikini beneath her "Wet Willy's serves up the best lick in town" tee-shirt.

  Wiping the counter yet again from the sticky sweetness of sno-cone syrup, she picked up her latest issue of Cosmo and found the place she'd ear-marked. "What Guys Want in Bed." The small electric fan offered some respite from the heat, but Jen found herself propping one leg on the countertop as she read.

  It was ten o'clock in the morning and already a humid eighty-five in the shade. It was sure to be a scorcher day-but a good one in terms of sales this afternoon. The resort catered to those that could afford to bring their families and stay for a week. People who had no care of taxes, college tuition, or car repairs. The most concerns they had were what class to enroll their children in so they could lounge in peace by the pool.

  "You serving that today?"

  Jen glanced up, her gaze slamming headlong into a pair of sea green eyes in a well-tanned face. His smile was wide, his chest more so, enhanced by the sleeveless undershirt he wore. A rush of excitement pooled in the crotch of her bikini bottoms and she quickly brought her legs together hoping that nothing showed.

  His bad boy smile had her secretly thinking just the opposite.

  "Can I help you?" Her voice quaked and she cleared her throat, drawing a dimple at the edge of his mouth.

  "I'm hot."

  That’s an understatement.

  Jen moistened her lips, suddenly dry. His beach blonde hair blew playfully over his forehead as the fan turned his way.

  "Hey that feels pretty good." He leaned forward on his elbows, sticking his face through the window. "Guess it's not so bad being stuck in there all day, huh?"

  His scent was as suggestive as he was and given what Jen had been reading, the images that he brought to mind would make a porn star blush.

  "How old are you?" She judged he had to be in his mid-to-late twenties. Probably not over thirty. He was likely up here with his parents—a college man, bored with academia coming to the resort and looking for entertainment.

  She had no intention of being that easy of a target. She'd grown up in this area and had seen it all—even wound up the token summer lust-fest for one guy in particular that left her with more than a romp in his private cabana. Fortunately, her pregnancy was a false, but so was he she found out after telling him of the possibility. She'd never seen a man run so fast before.

  "Does it matter? All I'm here for is something cool and wet." He grinned again and it sent shivers down her spine. Jen had agreed to help out this summer only because her family mentioned that their friends had sold the place and needed a bit of interim help before the new guy rounded out the new season's staff. It was rumored the guy was looking at the possibility of turning the family resort in to a spa. Like that wouldn't make the regulars stage an uprising.

  "Cool and wet…hum, how about a sno-cone?"

  "What flavors?"

  "Are you serious? There are about seventy-five combinations. If you'd pull your head out from ogling my boobs, you could read them for yourself." She straightened her shoulders and perched a hand to her hip.

  His light brown brow rose as he took a step back, his hand resting on the counter. Jen took a deep breath and waited.

  "What's the mango stripper?" He frowned as he perused the list. His long tanned fingers tapped the pristine white countertop.

  "That’s a blend of mango, papaya and guava juices. Very refreshing, and one of our top sellers—particularly on a day like today."

  "You seem to know your stuff, you ever try it yourself?"

  Jen made it a point to only suck on plain ice. After serving it up all day, the thought nauseated her. "Uh, I don't eat the goods. I just serve them."

  His gaze held fast to the list as he grinned.

  "You ought to like what you do." He pushed a hand through his unruly hair, the gesture sending his muscle to ripple across his bicep.

  Jen chuckled. "And who are you, my boss?"

  He smiled. "Why don't you give me some of that and we can talk more." He pointed to the list and settled onto a nearby barstool as he waited.

  Jen flipped though the index file she'd created of the exact measurements for the sno-smoothies she'd created out of pure boredom over the years. When she was in college the pay from the summer was good and often the older men would wink and give her a hefty tip, particularly if she wore a revealing suit topped with a tasteful see-through cover up. But times had changed, though apparently men hadn't—

  She looked up and observed the 'more-handsome-than-a-man-had-a-right-to-be-stranger' surveying the croquet lawn and the pool beyond.

  "You play much?"

  Jen lowered her head, pretending not to hear another of his pick-up lines. The guy was blatant; she had to give him that. Part of her wondered how often it worked for him and so she asked.

  "How about you?" She measured the ice in the blender and glanced his way.

  He shrugged, not even looking at her.

  "I always manage to lose my balls."

  So was that a yes or no?

  "It's the long handle that always throws me off." She retorted sarcastically. Hell, she figured she might as well give this guy a taste of his own medicine.

  "Really? I didn’t know that the length made any difference."

  His gaze met hers over the rim of the measuring cup as she poured in the bright pink papaya syrup.

  "Honey, size is everything. Don't you read?"

  His brows rose as he leaned back crossing his hands over the hard six-pack of his belly.

  "Can't say as I've ever even seen a manual on the technique."

  It was Jen's turn to be surprised. How did Cosmo find these guys who were so well experienced that they could in a single issue give a woman all the power and knowledge she needed for a successful and satisfying relationship?

  "What do you do, just practice?" She chuckled shaking her head. Okay maybe she was being a bit defensive. Here she was trying to improve her skills with the opposite sex by educating herself and all this guy did was get out there and wing it.

  "Well isn’t that what they say about most things? Practice makes perfect?"

  His grin caused another surge of tingling heat between her legs and it had nothing to do with the humidity.

  Jen snuck a small bit of ice and stuffed it in her mouth, easing the parched feeling in her throat. "You think you're that good, huh?"

  He shrugged, "I've been at it since I was young. I guess I have a practiced talent."

  Jen swallowed a lump of mel
ted ice and winced as it slid hard down her throat. Something stirred in her, maybe it was his looks, and maybe it was his pride in his abilities. Whatever it was, it rattled the challenge in her.

  "So you think you're pretty good, huh?" She finished her creation and held it out the window to him.

  Slowly he got out of the chair and sauntered toward her, his flip-flops padding against the pavement in jungle-like rhythm. The look in his eye was predatory, his gate purposely sensual and definitely meant for her.

  Jen's breath caught as he slapped his hand to the counter.

  "That sounds like you're curious to find out for yourself."

  Curious was not the word. Horny and hot covered the issue much better.

  Jen blinked as he closed his hand around hers on the cup.

  "Meet me after work here—tonight and we'll see who's on top." He took the plastic cup from her hand and held her gaze as he ran his tongue up the side to catch a piece of the sweet concoction. "Um, this is good."

  Jen's nipples peaked with excitement.

  "See you later? Lets make it after eight when its dusk. That's when I'm at my best."

  Jen watched him walk away, his bright red and white Hawaiian print trunks riding low on his hips. She didn’t realize the ice in the scoop still in her hand had melted to water until it spilled over her feet.

  What had she gotten herself into? She didn’t even know the guys name; much less she'd never, ever, spoken so openly about sex and then planned for it like it was a Saturday night movie date.

  Part of her was thrilled with the idea, while another part sent up red flags in her mind, signaling her to slow down.

  Needless to say, her afternoon was painfully long.

  ~*~

  After closing shop she, she spent a half hour soaking away the heat and sweat of the day. But even after towel-drying, the heat of anticipation was rapidly warming her again. She used great puffs of lavender powder, taking special precaution to pat the areas most vulnerable to moisture and then she lay on her bed letting the late afternoon breeze waft over her body. As her mind relaxed, so did her body and the image of his tan, muscular torso appeared in her brain. In her imagination, he came to her with a towel wrapped around his waist. He pulled her to face him, pressing her breasts against his warm chest as his hands smoothed over her butt, squeezing gently. He nuzzled her neck, turning her gently away from him, so as to give greater access to his hands.

  He left a trail of heated kisses across the top of her sunburned shoulder as his hot hands massaged her perky globes. With the skill of a master love-maker, he teased her twin nubs, bringing them to a stiff peak, sending electrifying currents to her hot spot.

  Jen could feel his arousal through the damp terrycloth, the gentle roughness of the fabric over his shaft creating erotic ripples through her every time he rubbed his organ against her backside.

  There was something so gentle in his lovemaking, so calculated and refined. Not at all like her previous lover, who would just as soon taken her to her to the nearest motel, satisfied himself, and called for pizza afterwards.

  His tongue circled the underside of her ear as his hand slipped into her wet heat. She spread for him, stretching against his body luxuriously enjoying every moment. One finger entered, and then two and the magic of his movements had her moaning for release.

  "If you still think you can challenge me…"

  Jen awoke startled to realize her hand massaging her clitoris—his voice on her answering machine was enough to bring her over the edge. Her body stiffened with her shattering orgasm. And she lay exhausted on her bed, the gentle click of her oscillating fan cooling her over-heated body.

  His voice issued a seductive tone. "Prepare to be mastered."

  The machine clicked off signaling the caller had hung up. She glanced at the clock and then to the window, seeing it was almost dusk. With even greater anticipation, she swung her legs over the bed. Jen dressed quickly, seeing to it that she wore her most provocative and enhancing sundress. And for fun, she wore the hot pink thong a friend had given her as a joke when she heard of her summer employment between getting a permanent chef's position.

  Though the night was clear, the only relief came from the low breeze coming in over the lake. Jen waited at one of the barstools, searching the area, not populated at this time of day. Most people were inside enjoying the game room or movie theatre in the resort.

  She glanced around, and checked her watch twice as she watched the stars appear in the velvet night sky. Maybe he wanted complete darkness? Though given his blatant expose of his stellar skills, she would guess that mid-day in a parking lot wouldn’t faze him.

  Her watch indicated ten PM when she finally decided he wasn't going to show. Truthfully, what should she have expected? She knew that there were guys out there that simply talked a big game, but rarely came through when push comes to shove. Hadn't she found that out by personal experience?

  Vowing not to be taken in again, Jen returned home to her cold, lonely bed and wondered if her dreams would be enough to appease the embarrassment she felt inside.

  ~*~

  "Hi, sorry I couldn't meet you last night."

  Jen had prepared for this. He was playing with her head and she was not going to be taken in by it.

  "Were we supposed to meet last night?" She didn't bother to look up from her reading.

  "Well, I did call."

  "Oh really? I didn't notice."

  "That’s a pretty cool response. Did I say something wrong?"

  "Not at all, it's just that I don't fall for every line that guy offers me. If you say something to me, you better mean it and prepare to follow through. Otherwise, all your chatter is nothing but false promises."

  His brows rose. Today he was wearing a tropical print shirt of blues and greens that accentuated his eyes with greater clarity. His long khaki shorts and flip flops offered his clearly relaxed style.

  Jen was not about to become part of his style.

  Over night she'd forced herself to look long and hard in the mirror and make some decisions about what she wanted in a guy. Forget Cosmo and their polls. Life was about more than how hot a guy was in bed. Though she had to admit that she wanted it all if it could come in one neat package.

  She wanted someone, independently successful, kind, and with more of a commitment level than a revolving door. "Next time, don't commit unless you're serious."

  "Whoa, you take a challenge seriously, don't you?" He held his hands to the countertop and peered at her with a glint in his gorgeous eyes.

  She merely shrugged and went back to her book on "Seventy-Ways to Prepare Grouper."

  "Okay, then, how about tomorrow night? I have a meeting tonight or I'd show you what I've got going on."

  Jen rolled her gaze heavenward. Could the man be any more egotistical? Still, what harm could it do? Obviously he was not true to his word; chances are he'd find a way to bug out again. But now, she just wanted him out of her face. She had a presentation to make in a couple of days and she had to brush up on her cooking prowess.

  "Yeah, I suppose that would be okay, but lets say uh, noon. Does that work for you?

  "Saturday is my afternoon off."

  "A nooner? Sure, I can be up for that."

  Jen laughed silently. Yeah, right.

  "Great, my heart is all a-quiver," she replied hoping that the sarcasm was as thick as the sweat beaded across his forehead. The thought that she might have turned him on caused mixed emotions inside, but she was determined that she would not run blindly into his embrace, no matter how charming.

  "See you here, then?" He patted the countertop with a challenging grin.

  "Sure, here is as good as anyplace." She didn't look up to gage his reaction, but the thought of them going hot and heavy inside the little thatched sno-cone hut had her thinking lush tropical thoughts.

  Absentmindedly, she glanced around the inside of the small building. Maybe she should clean up and rearrange a few things just to be on the
safe side.

  ~*~

  He was waiting for her, back turned, head down studying something he was holding in front of him. Surprised that he would be checking himself out in broad daylight caused her gaze to scan the area to be sure there was no one around, especially small children.

  He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Oh, you're early. I like that."

  As if that wasn't apparent.

  "You ready?"

  Jen glanced over her shoulder, where not more than one hundred yards patrons of the resort were lounging in the chaise pool chairs. Small children threw a Frisbee in a nearby clearing. This guy was a bit overzealous.

  "Listen, can I talk to you—in private?" She motioned for him to follow her inside the closed shack and made sure the bolt was in place before she turned to face him.

  She'd never before been in the shack with another person before, particularly not one of his size. She glanced at his feet, noting he was probably about size eleven. A shudder rippled through her veins.

  "I can appreciate your desire to prove your skills to me." She tried to step back so that the tips of her breast didn’t brush against his chest. Her fanny hit the silent fan, switching it on and she jumped forward into his arms.

  "You don't seem quite as sure of your skill as you did a few days ago. I hope that I haven’t intimidated you." His grin accentuated the purely wicked gleam in his eyes.

  Jen sighed, reaching behind her to flip off the fan's switch. "Of course not. It's just that I want—more."

  "Ah, one of those killer-types." He shrugged. "I can live with that." His arms still held her close and it seemed as though he'd closed the space between them, making it impossible for her to step back.

  "What if I told you that unless something of great importance gets in the way, I rarely shirk on my challenges?" His gaze softened as his eyes turned a stormy gray-green. "I am sorry I couldn't make it the other night. Probably more than you'd care to know." His gaze searched her face, and his finger gently brushed a wisp of hair from her neck. Shivers followed in the wake of his touch, the sensation traveling clear to her toes.