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.
Excerpt from After Sundown
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 fro
m 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.
"Oh, please don't tell me you're a nice girl. That will absolutely break my heart," Cole responded in mock seriousness as his eyes once again swept over Kit's features, then moved downward to her ample cleavage, where it paused for an inappropriate length of time. Cole had no doubts of tonight's conquest. Already, his mind was mapping out the pleasures this woman's body would provide him.
Cole’s gaze fixed on Kit’s blue eyes as he reached out with his right hand, and gently traced the curve of her arm with his fingertips, beginning at her shoulder and moving down to her elbow that rested on the bar top. Instinctively, she pulled away from his touch, yet not before she felt the electric-like jolt brought on by the intimate contact. While she tried to approach the encounter in a flip and casual manner, she could not deny the physical attraction or chemistry she felt toward the stranger. Damn, I really need to start dating again, she thought.
"Thanks for the beer, but I really came in for just a drink." Kit reached for her frosty mug and took several sips. Once again, her gaze moved across the bar, away from Cole. She silently cursed herself for drinking her first beer too fast. Nervousness was prompting her to down the second in record time. She had skipped lunch and hadn’t had time for dinner. Her head was beginning to swim.
"No one comes to After Sundown for just a drink." His voice was low and husky in anticipation. "But then, you already know that."
Kit's eyes moved back to the stranger. She was growing uncomfortable by his unwavering stare.
"Perhaps they come to play pool or dance," she suggested innocently, wondering what was keeping her brother. It was impossible to observe the bartender with this gorgeous—albeit obviously horny—man just inches away. She could feel his breath; it fairly gave her goose bumps. His scent, a combination of spice and musk, made her want to take a deep breath and lean closer, a temptation she resisted.
She found something incredibly sexy about a clean, wonderfully smelling man. He was definitely both. His black denims fit snugly on what appeared to be well-built thighs. His white linen shirt was crisp and spotless, tucked into the belted waistband of his pants. The long sleeves were casually pushed up to just below his elbows, and the first two buttons were unfastened. His skin was darkly tanned, as if he worked out of doors. For a fleeting moment, she wished she were the type of woman who engaged in casual sex.
"Then let's dance," he suggested abruptly. His hand gripped her forearm, and he pulled Kit to her feet, leading her toward the dimly lit dance floor. Before Kit knew what had happened, she found her body pulled against the hard length of the handsome stranger. Strong arms wrapped possessively around her waist, molding their bodies together.
Kit's mind was unable to conjure up an objection to sharing a dance with the sinfully appealing male. It had been so long since she had been held in the strong arms of a man that she decided to succumb momentarily to the incredible flood of forgotten sensations washing over her. What could one dance hurt? Alone on the dance floor, their bodies swayed to a slow, sensuous beat.
Overwhelmed with an unfamiliar onslaught of sensual emotion and the effects of too much beer on an empty stomach, Kit found her dance partner gradually moving her off the dance floor and into the private alcove leading to the restrooms. Her mind was swirling and her brain was incapable of grasping a single complete thought.
Cole's right knee wedged between Kit's legs. She gasped suddenly when his hands boldly cupped her bottom and squeezed the cheeks before abruptly lifting her up, then setting her firmly on his bent knee, allowing her to straddle his limb. Retaining his hold of her bottom, Cole moved Kit to ride his leg, his own steel arousal rubbing against her belly.
Her blue eyes flew open, wide and stunned. Cole’s dark expression smoldered as his intent stare seemed to hold her in place, as if he had some hypnotic effect on her. A slight smile twitched on his full lips as he continued to move her to ride his leg provocatively. Her skirt rode up to her panties. Smiling in anticipation, Cole could feel her dampness and warmth along the juncture of her thighs that rode his. Her mouth dropped open in startled surprise. Cole used that moment to seize her lips with his. Aggressively, his tongue invaded the warmth of her mouth. Her breath w
as sweet and addictive. Kit felt the wall slam against her back, holding her upright, while Cole moved his hands to cup her face in his palms as he continued his assault. Kit found herself responding to the uninvited kiss as her hands moved to encircle his neck and pull him closer.
Cole's right leg was bent, his knee continued to ride between her thighs, pressing tightly against the core of her femininity. His denim-clad thigh moved in a steady rhythm, back and forth, seductively rubbing against the moist piece of fabric at the crotch of her panties. It had been such a long time since she had been with a man. Kit allowed herself to be swept away in the sea of sensual pleasure, forgetting she was with a stranger in a public place, closing her mind to all but the wonderful sensations kindled by her dance partner.
Kit’s body vibrated, a flush of heat swept through her limbs and then to her horror, an unexpected climax seized her, causing her to shudder and tremble with incredible force. If Cole hadn't held her up, she would have certainly collapsed to the floor. Embarrassment and horror washed over Kit as her eyes fixed on Cole's. His expression was purely masculine, smug satisfaction. He knew what had just happened to her.
Cole eased his leg down from between her thighs as he steadied her against the wall. Holding her shoulders securely, his gaze washed over her face. Speechless, unable to utter a sound, and horrified at her behavior, Kit stood mute. Cole moved one of his hands and traced his fingertips along the crest of her exposed cleavage. His hand then moved downward, under the hem of her skirt, and his fingertips touched her wet panties, before he pushed her skirt back into place.
"God, you're hot," he whispered. "We can finish this at my place. Wait for me at the bar while I visit the head, then we can get the hell outa here." Without waiting for a response, he turned and left her standing alone, against the wall.
Blinking her eyes in confusion, Kit watched the stranger disappear through the door to the men's restroom. Regaining her composure, she quickly glanced around the bar. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice their shameful behavior on the edge of the dance floor. She wondered if this was something that happened frequently in places like this. To Kit's relief, her brother entered the bar.
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