Too Hot to Handle

by Chanta Rand

  Jewell had enriched his life in more ways than one. And she’d taught him a thing or two about passion. No woman had ever made his body ache like she did. At night, after the cattle had been fed, the horses watered, and the house was quiet, he would dream of her. He couldn’t get her sweet smell out of his head. The image of her delectable curves burned in his brain. Even now, he had to fight his hunger for her. He let out a deep breath. At least he would have his memories of her. It would have to be enough to sustain him for a lifetime.

  Here Comes the Bride queued, and hundreds of heads turned toward the back of the church, ready to catch a peek of the bride. After a parade of three shy flower girls, five junior bridesmaids, nine bridesmaids partnered with groomsmen, and one mischievous ring bearer, Portia finally floated down the aisle. Swathed in lace, beads and tulle, she commanded everyone’s attention. At least he assumed it was her beneath the endless yards of material. The thick veil she wore concealed her face. Her father escorted her like a queen in front of her royal subjects. Mason steeled himself, forcing all the emotion from his mind. He would treat this as business, pure and simple.

  Portia stopped in front of him, and her father pushed the folds of her voluminous veil away from her face. Her makeup was camera-ready. Lips stained with pink lipstick. Rosy eye shadow. Soft brown eyeliner. She was picture-perfect. On the outside.

  The music stopped and a quiet hush fell over the church. Mason heard his heartbeat thunder in his ears. The moment of truth had arrived.

  “Today, we have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of Portia Eugenia Rothchild to Mason Lazarus Kincaid in holy matrimony.”

  Mason listened as the priest spoke. He’d never heard the words to a wedding ceremony before.

  “The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people. The union of husband and wife in heart, body and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in property and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore, marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.”

  Mason tried to take a deep breath, but his conscience was like a cinderblock weighing on his chest. These words were deep. Meaningful. Did people truly realize what they were saying when they made these vows?

  The priest closed his bible and turned to Portia, his eyes serious. “Do you, Portia Rothchild, take Mason Kincaid as your lawfully wedded husband, to honor and cherish in sickness and health, for better or worse, until death do you both part?”

  “I do,” Portia solemnly replied.

  The priest then turned to Mason. “Do you, Mason Kincaid, take Portia Rothchild as your lawfully wedded wife, to honor and cherish in sickness and health, for better or worse, until death do you both part?”

  Mason cleared his throat. Until death do you part. He understood death. He felt like a part of him was slowly dying right now. He paused.

  Portia turned to stare at him, her pasted on smile twitching at the corners.

  For better or for worse. How much worse could it get?

  He knew all eyes were on him, waiting for his response. He looked at the toes of his painful shoes, then at the priest, then finally back to Portia. A brief flicker of panic flashed in her dark irises. If this was Texas Hold’em, it would be time to bluff or fold. Mason opened his mouth to speak.

  “I object!” a booming voice called out.

  A collective gasp filled the church as all heads swiveled in the direction of the voice.

  The offender stood up.

  Daddy!

  Reed Kincaid stood with a determined look etched into his weathered features. The black buttons of his white shirt strained as he stepped forward. “I object to this wedding,” he repeated.

  “On what grounds?” the priest asked.

  “On the grounds that my son is doing this against his will.”

  Low murmurs of confusion ruffled through the feathers of the crowd.

  Reed’s eyes found Mason’s and for the first time, Mason saw love and sympathy reflected in his father’s weary irises. “Son, I can’t ask you to do this. Not when I know your heart belongs elsewhere. Grand pappy mighta had the right intent, but this ain’t the right outcome for you. Go get your woman.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You have my blessing.”

  “Sit down, immediately!” Portia ordered him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Mason glared at her. “Shut up, Portia. And don’t you dare tell my father to sit down.”

  Portia’s father leapt up from his seat on the front pew. His face was puffed up and redder than a turnip. “Don’t you tell my daughter to shut up!” he charged. “You and your uncouth family are beneath us anyway!”

  Before Mason could react, Austin sprang from his seat as well. “Who the hell you callin’ uncouth, old man?”

  “You savage!” Portia’s father yelled, then charged like a bull after the much younger man.

  Mason’s father jumped to Austin’s defense, punching the man square in his jaw. Portia’s father staggered backward at the same time Portia’s mother let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  “Everyone please!” the priest begged. “Remember, we are in God’s house!”

  After that, it was as if Moses himself un-parted the Red Sea and a tsunami of emotions broke loose as both sides of the family started arguing and yelling. Within seconds, the shit hit the fan and the argument erupted into a full-fledged brawl, with some folks running for the door and others slugging it out in the church aisles.

  Portia broke down into hysterics, fresh tears ruining her makeup. Mason left her standing at the altar while he joined the fray. Well, she wanted her wedding to be the most talked about event of the year, and now, it was.

  TEN

  Jewell held the baseball tightly between her thumb and first two fingers. Her ring finger and pinky curved loosely around the stiches. One thing she learned from her father was how to throw a knuckleball. She geared up, held it squarely under her chin, then flung it back in a wide arc and released it with as much power as she could muster. The ball whizzed through the air at an alarming speed, meeting the solid smack of wood as the batter knocked it senseless. Jewell watched in dismay as the ball sailed over a nearby wall.

  Damn!

  “So long suckers!” Clark yelled as he skipped past first base toward second, obviously intent on scoring a home run.

  “Aw man!” Andy whined. “I’ll get it!”

  Jewell watched as he sprinted away to retrieve the ball.

  Bree came jogging up to the battered Frisbee lying at Jewell’s feet - which also doubled as the pitcher’s mound. “What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide with frenzy. “Need I remind you the score is six to nine and we have two outs so far? It’s crunch time, baby!”

  Jewell would have laughed if the situation weren’t so serious. Bree was a diehard baseball fan, which was the only reason Jewell agreed to stand in when the regular pitcher for Bree’s weekly game came up with a severe case of food poisoning. Clark also agreed to come along, but she would have never recruited him if she’d known he’d end up playing for the opposing team.

  “I thought you said you could pitch,” Bree accused.

  “Sorry. I guess I’ve lost my touch,” Jewell muttered.

  “Well find it, quick. I can’t let these clowns show me up.”

  Jewell looked at the “bull pen” of assorted players. “Whatever. Half of those clowns are your family members. The other half work in our building.”

  “That’s right. And I’m the only one who can call them names. Now, do I need to send in a relief pitcher?”

  �
��Like who? Your cousin Ed? The underachiever with the overbite?”

  Bree grinned, her perfectly straight teeth shining brighter than a two-hundred watt bulb. “You were wrong for that. But you’re right: You’re all I have. Just take a rest until Andy gets back with the ball.”

  Jewell laughed and sat down on the threadbare grass. Good thing she was wearing dirty sweat pants. She turned her baseball cap around backwards so the visor shaded the back of her neck. The sun had already climbed high and was dishing out a healthy dose of ultraviolet rays.

  Bree stood over Jewell. Her snug, red baseball leggings accentuated her size ten frame. “I think you’re letting him get you off your game.” Bree observed.

  “Who? Ed?”

  “Girl, you know I ain’t talking about Ed.”

  Mason’s unspoken name hung in the air like an invisible mist. “I’m not letting him get me off my game. I’m still in the game. I’m just watching from the sidelines.”

  “Uh huh. Right. You been sulking for two days now. If it weren’t for Andy, you wouldn’t cook. If it weren’t for work, you wouldn’t leave the house.”

  “And if it weren’t for you calling my ass every hour, I might actually get some peace.”

  “Yeah, but you still love me.”

  Jewell smacked her lips. “Pluuhese. Don’t make me pull a Tina Turner on you.”

  “What’s love got to do with it?” Bree sang.

  Jewell giggled. “Exactly!”

  Bree dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “All I’m saying is it’s time to stop playing the victim. Lick your wounds and get over him. You had a good time and now the party is over. As your best friend, it’s my job to point out when you’re acting stupid and then attempt to distract you from that stupidness.”

  “I think you mean stupidity. Stupidness is not a word.”

  “I just made it one. Deal with it.”

  “Sometimes I can’t stand you.”

  “No, you can’t stand the truth.”

  Jewell plucked a blade of grass. “I don’t know what the truth is anymore.”

  “Yes, you do. You just don’t want to face it. You fell for him. Hard and fast. End of story.” Bree put her hands on her hips. “No matter how cautiously we try to avoid the quicksand of love, even the most savvy of us can sink fast.”

  Jewell shook her head. “But I didn’t even see this coming. Mason isn’t the type of man on my wish list. He’s coarse. He’s rebellious. He’s obstinate and set in his ways. Sometimes, I think he purposely goes against the grain just to be irritating.”

  Bree crossed her arms. “Sounds like a match made in Heaven.”

  “It could have been,” Jewell admitted. “But I pushed him away. I had no choice.”

  “And now you’re regretting it?”

  “During the daylight hours, when I’m distracted by bad traffic and commercials – no. But late at night when I’m alone with my thoughts – yes. I can’t help but wonder if I made a mistake. I think of him constantly, and I can’t find the ‘off’ switch.”

  Something in the distance caught Bree’s attention. “Stop the presses, honey. I was wrong. Looks like this story ain’t over yet.”

  Bree backed away, and Jewell turned around just in time to see Andy returning with the ball. But he wasn’t alone. He was walking with a companion in tow.

  Jewell’s eyes were like sponges, soaking up the familiar shape of the mysterious figure. As the man approached, she got a good look at him. His button down shirt looked custom-made to fit his broad shoulders that tapered to his slender waist. The elegant cut of his trousers subtly defined the lines of his firm thighs. The classic loafers he sported were made of the finest leather.

  “Auntie, look who I found,” Andy announced. He was smiling like Vanna White presenting a prize puzzle.

  “Hello, Jewell.”

  Time as she knew it ceased to exist. If this is a dream Lord, please let me have fifteen more minutes of sleep!

  “Hello Mason.”

  He approached and offered his hand, pulling her from a sitting position. She stood, although she didn’t know how her knees didn’t buckle beneath her. Without her ever-present stilettos, the top of her head barely grazed his chin.

  She licked her tongue against quivering lips that had suddenly gone dry. Her eyes boldly surveyed his body from hairline to tiptoe. Gone was the thick beard and mustache he usually sported. Today, he was clean-shaven, his face revealing the strong line of his jaw. She was mesmerized by the transformation in front of her. Clean cut. Crisp, white shirt. Leather loafers. He looked damn good! And here she was in sweats and sneakers. Involuntarily, her hand went to her short locks. God, I must look a mess.

  “You look sensational,” he told her.

  “Thank you.” She pulled her hands from his, too nervous for his touch. She would not repay the compliment. She would not let him know how much he still affected her. How she itched to run her fingers along his smooth jaw. How her body was throbbing even now, fighting the image of him making love to her. He wasn’t hers to love. He belonged to another woman – a fact she couldn’t forget. A fact that she chose to remind him of.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on a glorious honeymoon in the South Pacific somewhere? Or enjoying French wine and holding hands on the beach with your wife?” She tried hard to keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice. She wanted to sound detached, as if she hadn’t run through her bulk supply of Kleenex from crying herself to sleep each night.

  “I couldn’t go through with it, Jewell.”

  “Wow. Just couldn’t stand a lifetime of Waltzing?” She tried to make light of it, but inside, her heart performed a Triple Salchow worthy of a gold medal. She wondered what had happened.

  “I couldn’t stand the thought of a lifetime without you, Jewell.” He stepped forward and stroked her cheeks, holding her face in his hands. “You should have been the one at that altar. I should have been making my vows to you.”

  She closed her eyes momentarily, inhaling the heady scent of his cologne. “What about your duty to the family?” she asked, eyeing him intently. “What about Portia?”

  “To hell with Portia. My family knows my heart. It’s you I want, woman. I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”

  She fought to stifle a smile. “Really? You could have fooled me.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I fooled myself too. I was so caught up in doing what everyone else expected of me, I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to be attracted to you, but you got under my skin, Jewell.” He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. “And I know now I can’t be without you. Hell, I wouldn’t wear these sissy-ass loafers for no other woman!”

  Jewell burst out laughing. “You haven’t changed one bit, Mason Kincaid.”

  He pulled her into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close. “But I would. All you have to do is ask. I’ll change anything for you, Jewell Davenport.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers. “You name it. Your wish is my command.”

  “But what about Portia’s threats,” Jewell reminded him. ‘She promised to destroy me and my business.”

  He gazed at her. “After what happened at the ceremony, I don’t think she’ll want to draw any more attention to herself. And if word got out that she tried to blackmail the very image consultant she hired, she’d look like the fool – not you. The only person who can keep me from you is you, Jewell. If you tell me you don’t love me, I’ll walk away and never look back.”

  She smiled at him. “Now, who’s the liar? Something tells me you would never walk away without looking back.”

  He chuckled. “See? You have to keep me around. You know me too well.”

  Jewell laughed with him. Her heart swelled knowing this man wanted her as much as she wanted him. “Yes, I do love you,” she admitted.

  He picked her up and twirled her around twice before capturing her lips in a heated kiss. When loud applause surrounded her, Jewell pushed at his chest, sudden
ly aware of her audience and her nephew. “The boy,” she gasped. “Not in front of the boy.”

  Andy spoke up. “This boy doesn’t mind. He’s seen it all before. We have HBO, remember?”

  Mason chuckled again, his thick lips soft against Jewell’s. “I love you, woman. And I mean to prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

  “Only if you get rid of those ghastly jeans.”

  “Done.”

  “And you stop smoking those horrible cigars.”

  “I hated the taste anyway.”

  “And…you promise to take me to Irma’s…twice a month.”

  He gazed at her, his dark eyes dancing with pleasure. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  *** THE END***

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Ann Jefferson – for once again showing me the errors of my ways (literally). Thank you for tirelessly wading through my manuscript drafts and editing my errors, bad grammar, and made-up words. I love you and I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.

  www.KerryRandPhotograpy.com – for your amazing skills with a camera, and your ability to create a stunning cover shot.

  Garret White – for allowing your gorgeous body to be photographed for an incredibly sexy cover. You make all guys wanna be a cowboy!

  My family, friends, and co-workers for their constant encouragement and support.

  To everyone who contributed their ideas for this book’s title. Thank you for your suggestions and your enthusiasm. I had so much fun, I’ll be definitely be doing this again.

  To all the readers who’ve contacted me telling me how much you enjoy my work, thank you, thank you, thank you. It means so much to me. I love hearing from you, so keep those emails coming!