Hot Like Fire (3 page)

Kade nodded as he descended the few steps into
their midst. "I'm good. In fact, I'm better than I've
been in a long time."

Kaitlyn stepped forward and wrapped her arm
around his waist. "What's going on?" she asked,
bumping her hip against his side.

He lifted his hand to muss her short crop of dyed
jet-black hair. "I've decided that Kadina and I are
going to move back into the house," he told them,
playfully looking down at his palm for dye before
he wiped his hand on his pants leg. The brothers all
loved teasing their baby sister about dyeing the grey
out of her hair.

Kaitlyn just gave him a saucy eye roll.

Even as his brothers all stepped forward to either
hug him close or clap him soundly on the back,
and his sister and sister-in-law kissed his cheek, he
saw the immediate concern on his mother's face.
Kade moved through the small group and pulled
her into a tight embrace.

He smiled at the way her head barely reached his
chest. "We'll be fine, Ma," he assured her as she
squeezed him tightly.

"Did we say or do something?" she asked, tilting her
head back to look up at him. "You know how much I
love having Kadina and you around the house."

"It's just time. That's all," replied Kade. "That's
the only reason."

Her eyes searched his for a few moments before
she hugged him one last time and nodded her head
in understanding. Then she stepped back from him.

Kaeden stepped forward to playfully punch Kade's arm. "My big brother just wants to get back to
normal, right?"

Kade nodded. "Right," he agreed. "Now I want to
say ... especially while you're all here," Kade continued, giving each of his brothers a long and meaningful stare. "I'm not ready for this to become a
bachelor pad, with women coming in and out of here
quicker than cars at a drive-thru window."

Each of the brothers nodded in understanding,
and Kade hoped they truly did understand. His
eyes took in that comfortable and loving way Bianca
massaged his brother's back, and he glanced away.
He hated to admit to the jealousy he felt about
their intimacy.

"Well, who's gonna help you with Kadina?" Lisha
asked. "Getting her ready for school when you're already up and at the ranch. Her hair. Her meals."

Bianca pulled a rubber band from the back
pocket of her jeans and gathered her hair into a
ponytail. "I agree, Kade. You're going to need help.
So much of your time is wrapped up in the ranch."

Kade held up his hand before his mother could
even let the offer flow from her lips. "Thanks, Ma, but
no thanks. Dad has just about retired, and it's time
you do the same. You two should buy that camper
and travel, the way you always said you would."

"He can hire a nanny," Kaeden offered.

"Oh God, and wind up on the six o'clock news, with
all the weirdos in the world today?" Lisha retorted.

"Yes, make me have to catch a case, Kade," Kaitlyn
added.

"I'm not saying go find any jackrabbit on the
street," Kaeden countered. "There are many reputable agencies that thoroughly screen their employees."

"Oh, like the Catholic Church?" Kaitlyn flung back.

Kade released a heavy breath as nearly his entire
family began a full-blown debate on the pros and
cons of hiring a nanny. He loved his family. He
cherished them, but ... they could be overwhelming at times.

He slid his hands into the pockets of his Dickies
and shook his head a bit as he looked heavenward
and licked his lips.

"I have just the solution for you, brother-in-law,"
said Bianca.

Kade lowered his eyes and then looked into
Bianca's smiling face. "Give it to me, sister-in-law."

"Garcelle," she said simply, with a subtle lift of
her rounded shoulders.

"Garcelle?" asked Kade.

"Garcelle," she said again, with finality.

Kade squinted his eyes as he thought of Garcelle.

Having worked the last year couple of years as
Kahron and Bianca's part-time cook and housekeeper, Garcelle Santos had already proven herself
to be trustworthy and loyal. She was the daughter of
Kahron's foreman-someone else who had proven
to be a valuable asset to his brother's business. And
although Kade had treated the woman with suspicion and some disdain during their first meeting, he
had come to see just how very wrong he was.

Kadina already loved Garcelle. Everyone did. She
was more of a family friend than an employee. She
was perfect for Kadina.

Kade nodded. "Garcelle," he stated, with equal
finality.

"Good," Bianca agreed, with a wink, before turning and walking back to the rest of the family.

Garcelle. Yes, she is just what I need, thought Kade.

The seemingly innocent thought startled him.
He shook his head as if to clear it. I mean she's just
what Kadina needs, he corrected himself before stepping forward to rejoin his family.

Today was the very first day Garcelle wasn't worried about any of her usual daily grind: a full load
of nursing classes, the part-time job as Kade and
Bianca's housekeeper and cook, and her involun-
taryjob as the housekeeper and cook for her brood
of male family members.

Spring session was officially over, and with it, her
first year at the University of South Carolina's Salka-
hatchie campus in Walterboro. She was studying to
be a licensed practical nurse and had every intention of going back eventually to become a registered nurse. At twenty-six, she was starting to focus
on a life with a career and not just a job. She was
determined to put behind her her days of working
at fast-food restaurants and gas stations. As much as
she loved working for Kahron and Bianca, she
knew, without a doubt, it wasn't what she would be
doing for the rest of her life.

Without any summer classes, she was going to
enjoy not having to worry about tests, books, or
anything else college related. Instead, she wanted
to find another part-time job so that she could save money for the fall session of school. Garcelle was
on a one-woman mission to graduate without owing
one red cent in school loans.

But the job search could-and would-wait one
day.

Garcelle took one last leisurely stretch in the
middle of her full-sized bed before she flung back
the covers. Her bedroom was alive with her fiery
spirit. Every bit of the room was in shades of vibrant
red, which gave just the jolt of energy she needed
to start her day. As much as she had decorated her
small bedroom with care, Garcelle couldn't wait
until she was in her own apartment. Right now all
her money went for school, and she just couldn't
afford rent, electricity, and a phone bill. She didn't
even have a cell phone.

The three-bedroom, short, double-wide mobile
home was not large enough for her large family,
which consisted of her father; her two uncles; her
younger brother, Paco; and herself. They were already using the den as a spare bedroom. If her
older sister, Marisol, hadn't married and moved to
Texas with her husband, the house would really be
cramped.

"Soon," she promised herself, knowing the move
would be just as good for the rest of her family as it
would be for her. As soon as she graduated, she was
striking out alone.

She rolled out of bed with more energy than she
actually felt. As she pulled her hair up into a loose
topknot, she left her bedroom and made her way to
the bathroom for a quick brush of her teeth and
wash of her face. Her stomach rumbled at the
thought of the stewed chicken and mango she'd
made yesterday. The mashed plantain dish was a staple in her native Dominican Republic. It was as
ordinary to Dominicans as mashed potatoes were
to Americans.

Dressed in the men's boxers she had worn to bed
and a worn and torn wifebeater T-shirt, Garcelle
released a stream of fiery expletives as she walked
down the short hall to the living room. "Pigs," she
exclaimed, doing a full spin in the center of the
small room. Dirty dishes were on the coffee table.
Dirty socks, with the bottoms almost as black as the
soles of shoes, had been flung about like confetti.
The television blared a rerun of one of those racy te-
lenovelas on the Spanish network. The place looked
like one big mess, and unfortunately, her name was
written all over cleaning it up.

All thoughts of lounging over breakfast and
catching up on TiVoed episodes of Ugly Betty and
Grey's Anatomy were put aside ... for now. She
opened the front door but left the glass screen
door closed as a South Carolina summer wind blew
in against her thighs.

She used the remote to turn the television channel to music videos, and then she snatched up each
piece of discarded dirty clothing and slammed it
into the laundry basket she now held against her
hip. "Everything I Can't Have" by Robin Thicke
began to play, and Garcelle easily slipped into
subtle dance movements as she moved about the
living room. Her anger began to fade, and the infectious music, with its Latin beat, made her drop
the basket to the floor and shake the topknot from
her hair as she began to salsa, with a wicked smile
on her full lips.

"Whoo," she screamed, flinging her head back as
sweat dripped down the valley between her small breasts. She worked her hips and then kicked her
leg high like she had an audience. Garcelle loved
to dance, and dancing always made her feel ... muy
caliente.

It was hard to deny that dancing was so much like
making love. Sweaty bodies. Pounding hearts. Gyrating hips. Plus, she had those strong and thick
thighs, which seemed to massage her intimate lips
as she did the traditional Latin dances she favored.
Once, when she was at Kahron and Bianca's wedding reception, lost in the groove and sipping on
margaritas, she almost danced herself to a climax.
Although that night she didn't know if it was just the
dance or the sexy, silver-haired man who watched
her as she danced for him. She felt her cheeks warm
at the memory.

Since months had passed since her last relationship, and there was nothing in her immediate
future to sate any forbidden desires, she twirled her
hips one last time. Give it up. Turn it loose, chica she
told herself.

Garcelle pulled her hair back into a topknot and
pulled the clinging T-shirt from her pert breasts and
suddenly hard nipples. She grabbed the basket of
clothes to toss into the wash and then retraced her
steps to gather up the dishes and load them in the
dishwasher.

Thankfully, the kitchen was in much better shape,
since everyone loved to eat in front of the TV. In no
time at all, she'd straightened it up, then grabbed a
can of apple juice from the fridge.

The laughter of playing children drifted in
through the open kitchen window. She squinted her
eyes against the sun as she watched them over the rim
of the can. They were enjoying a game of kickball in the large field in the center of the trailer park. Usually at this time of the day, the trailer park was quiet.
Then again, the kids were usually in school.

"Life was so simple then," she whispered into her
can, thinking of her own childhood back in Santo
Domingo.

Back then the divide between the rich and the
poor had not been so noticeable, but with every
year she grew, things became clearer. She began to
understand the lack of opportunities her parents
spoke of. She began to desire the same things they
wanted. Although she would miss the Caribbean, in
her eyes, America became the prize.

Her family had moved to America seven short
years ago. It was the typical search for the American
dream of getting a big slice of the pie. Of course,
the reality was far less grandiose than their dreams
of big houses and even bigger salaries, but her parents had made a good life for themselves in South
Carolina. Her father's experience working on
farms back in Santo Domingo had helped land him
the job on Kahron's ranch. Soon her parents saved
up some money and bought the mobile homethe first piece of property they'd ever owned. Her
mother bore the son Garcelle's father had always
wanted ... especially after two daughters. Life was
good for them.

Her mother's death just two years later had
seemed a mockery. Paco had only been a year old.
Marisol had already met and married her husband,
Juan, and was living in Texas. Garcelle had just
graduated high school. Her father had just landed
the job as Kahron's foreman.

Garcelle looked over her shoulder at the large por trait of her mother on the wall, over the small, round
dining table. She felt comforted by her smiling face.

Many people had balked when her father moved
the portrait into the kitchen, but Garcelle understood that for Maria Santos, the kitchen had been the
heart of the home. It was the perfect spot for her to
continue watching over her family.

"I miss you, Mother," she said softly in Spanish.
"We all miss you."

Deliberately brushing away the sadness, Garcelle
tilted her head back as she swallowed down the last
of the juice. She tossed the can into the trash as
she left the kitchen and made her way back to her
bedroom.

Garcelle was at the small convenience store down
the road from the trailer park, searching for canned
pinto beans, when she felt that she was being stared
at. She glanced to the right and then directed her
gaze downward. One pair of huge brown eyes looked
up at her from the mocha cherub face of a six- or
seven-year-old.

The little girl tugged at her heart. "Hola, angel,"
said Garcelle.

"Are you Beyonce?" the little one asked.

Garcelle tossed her head back a bit and laughed.
"No, I'm not Beyonce," she told her, with her heavy
Spanish accent.

"You look like her," the little girl answered simply.

"Really? I think I look more like Shakira, angel," she
said softly.

The little girl's face scrunched up in obvious confusion. "Who?" she asked, tilting her head to the
side as she bit her bottom lip.