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The Sweet Spot
KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY
To my sister and best friend, Synetta. Thank you for always being there for me, even when I know you want to cuss me out for calling you so late at night sometimes. Or real super-early on a Saturday morning, when I had a plot idea I wanted your thoughts on and you just wanted to sleep. Sorry, but that’s not gonna ever stop. Ever. You may as well get used to it. You rock, chica. I love you!
To my best friend, Tawny. Thank you for being Tawny when I need a shoulder to cry on, and Vivi Anna when I need someone to kick me dead in the butt and make me stop with all the over-the-top tears and many, many many theatrics. Although that last time, did you really have to kick that hard? You also rock and I love you.
—KKT
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
1
When he strolled into the Sweet Spot exuding confidence like other men sweat, looking all kind of ways good to her, Gabrielle Marlowe knew she was in trouble. Particularly in the emotional state currently holding her hostage.
His long, muscular frame was the picture of raw masculine perfection, wearing the hell out of a dark blue, finely striped, expensively cut suit that Gaby could tell, even from her distance away, was tailor made for his perfect form.
Despite the expensive cut, he wore the suit with a casual disregard.
As he sauntered closer to the bar, where she sat perched on one of the high-backed bar stools, she allowed her eyelids to drop low, knowing her lashes were long enough to hide the fact that she was checking every fine inch of him out.
Tall, dark, and handsome.
As soon as she thought it, she cringed. Yeah, she knew it was beyond clichéd, but that’s just what he was.
He didn’t have a typically handsome model’s face. No. His was much harsher, more sensual than anything that could be termed as tame as handsome.
There was a certain…wildness, a barely caged sensuality about him.
Gaby shivered.
He had to top six feet by several inches, and even though he was wearing a suit, Gaby could tell he had one hell of a body. She ran a discreet glance over him, again, top to bottom, as she sipped her drink.
His sable-colored hair had a slight wave and was cut low, tapering down in the back to nearly skin in a tight, almost militarytype fade, with the top long enough that several thick, wavy strands fell over his brow.
If not for the lock of hair that fell over one eye, he could have been a living, breathing, poster boy for a Marine Corps recruiting ad.
Semper Fi.
The Marines slogan popped into her mind.
Always Ready.
Damn.
Gaby blew out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
His jet-black, winged brows slashed over vivid greenish gold eyes, framed by sooty dark lashes so thick they seemed unreal.
The darkness of his eyebrows and lashes was at odds with his hair color, and Gaby thought perhaps he dyed his hair.
Although he didn’t strike her as the type to do that. He seemed too manly to do something so feminine.
She casually glanced over his broad shoulders and thickly muscled body.
No, he definitely didn’t seem the type of man who’d dye his hair.
A fine-boned, yet prominent hawkish nose, hard chiseled lips, the lower rim slightly fuller than the top, and a well-defined chin with a deep dimple completed the picture of a man who, with one look, could probably make any woman he wanted stop, drop, and strip.
Yeah, Gaby thought with an inward sigh of appreciation…he had it like that.
When he turned his head and glanced over at her, Gaby took another sip of her apple martini from the thin straw and hoped he couldn’t see how fast her heart was thumping beneath the thin silk blouse she wore.
Or that he noticed how her nipples pearled against her useless bra.
Or maybe she did want him to notice…
When she dared to peek up, it was to see he’d turned away and was giving his attention to the female bartender who had scurried his way as soon as he walked to the bar.
“Hey, Sweet. Haven’t seen much of you lately. Got me wondering if you forgot all about me,” the woman quipped, the wattage on her smile so bright, she could illuminate the entire club.
So this was Sweet.
She should have known.
Sweet was the owner of the Sweet Spot, as well as two other popular nightclubs. Besides the one in San Antonio, the other two were located in Austin and Dallas.
Since she and Adam had been coming to the club over the last three months, Gaby had learned they
