Hot Stuff

by Carly Phillips

  "You made your point," she gasped. "You have way more control than I do."

  He raised his head, his dark gaze meeting hers. "That wasn't the point I had in mind."

  She leaned her head against the wall, trying not to weep or beg. "Then what was it?"

  "That I can't resist you. All of you." He picked her up in his arms and carried her down the hall to his bedroom.

  After laying her on the bed, he pulled off first one boot, then the other. Next he slid his hands beneath her short skirt, letting his palms skim her thighs as he hooked his fingers in her panties and pulled them down and off her legs.

  "I'm really not into slow, either." He stood beside the bed and undressed quickly before rejoining her on the mattress where she'd propped herself against the pillows. Then as if to prove his words, he moved between her thighs and lifted her, unveiling her to his heated stare.

  Her own gaze was just as hot as she took in his erection. Long and hard, the head of his penis was poised at her moist entrance. She pulsed there, dewy and empty, her desire for him surpassing the physical. She was in love with him. But she feared if she said the words aloud, she'd scare him away for good.

  She was an open, honest person, as she'd told him from the beginning, and she didn't plan to leave without making her feelings known. But she wasn't about to frighten him off before she’d expressed those feelings in the ultimate act one more time.

  His hands pushed her skirt up higher. His palms then encircled her thighs, his deep stare never leaving hers at the same time he thrust deep, giving her absolutely everything she physically needed.

  Emotionally she wondered if she was always destined to lose.

  Buried deep in Annabelle's body, looking down at her beautiful face, Vaughn understood that he'd never made love before. Not like this. The distinction between that and sex had never been so great. But he knew he couldn't handle that emotion at the moment when the rest of his life was in pure upheaval.

  He pulsed inside her, feeling her slick walls around him. He needed her now and she was here, alive, unharmed and all his. Lacing his fingers through hers, he raised her arms above her head and eased himself out of her body, then in. Out and in. Until they picked up the rhythm that was all their own and he lost himself in everything that was uniquely Annabelle.

  Afterward they slept, woke and ordered in dinner, and made love once more. To Vaughn's relief, not once did Annabelle look for any sort of deep discussion or insist they dissect their feelings.

  As she slept beside him, he felt the clock ticking away. Now that Roy had been arrested, there was no need for Annabelle to remain in Greenlawn. Though he'd need her expertise to get the lodge up and running, there was no unknown crisis to contemplate dealing with the next morning. She could treat him like any other client and return to work from her Manhattan office. The thought caused his stomach to twist in tight knots.

  If he'd read the emotion in her eyes correctly, there was every possibility that with one word from him, the right word, Annabelle would stay by his side. But he needed to have the courage to believe. Believe someone like Annabelle could invest in him for the long haul and not be disappointed in the end. Obviously much of his past still haunted him but Annabelle wasn't just anyone and his heart told him to trust in her. He just didn't know if he could believe that deeply in himself.

  ANNABELLE DRESSED and stood beside a sleeping Vaughn. Her bags were packed and loaded in her car. The animals, including the cat who loved to sleep on Vaughn's pillow, waited for her to start the long drive back to Manhattan.

  Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she leaned down and brushed a kiss on his forehead. A deep sleeper, he rolled over but didn't wake up. She smiled and studied his profile for the last time.

  He was such a good man. He'd even bared his greatest embarrassment to Roy in an effort to make the man understand why Todd would bond with Vaughn more than his father. He'd done it to save Annabelle's life. She'd loved him before and she loved him even more now.

  Unlike the other relationships where she'd invested emotion but gotten nothing back in return, Annabelle couldn't regret a minute of her time with Brandon Vaughn.But during their brief relationship she'd learned much about herself, not the least of which was that no matter how much she loved, she wasn't going to follow in Lola's footsteps. She wasn't about to spend her life pining for a commitment from someone who felt too unsure to provide one.

  She reached out and stroked his cheek. "I love you."

  She thought he smiled or maybe she just wished he had. Either way Annabelle had enough self-respect to walk away now with her head held high.

  She could survive without Vaughn, even if she wished she didn't have to.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  VAUGHN AWOKE and discovered Annabelle was gone, leaving him alone in his large bed and even bigger house. He couldn't think of a day that had started worse. The words I love you rang in his ears, but he didn't know if they were real, a figment of his imagination, or part of a foolish dream.

  He stormed through the house in a foul mood. He checked her room only to find she'd packed and taken everything that belonged to her. Natasha the rabbit was gone as was the cat who'd begun to curl up on top of Vaughn's pillow whenever he was around. A quick phone call told him Annabelle had even stopped by Mara's to collect Q-Tip, a sure sign she didn't plan on coming back.

  He ought to be pleased that his life was back to normal. He had a truckload of work ahead of him if he wanted to step up the construction schedule. He'd never make up the time lost caused by the fire but at least he wasn't waiting for the next incident of sabotage. And he no longer had Annabelle here as a tempting distraction.

  Vaughn's head pounded and he slung back two aspirin, then called Nick for a ride to the lodge where he'd left his truck. Half an hour later, the doorbell rang and though Nick was early, Vaughn went to let him inside.:

  Instead he had a shock waiting for him when he opened the door. Estelle stood on his front step with a bag from Cozy Cups in her hand.

  His headache increased. "Hello, Mother. What brings you by?" Because Estelle's visits were few and far between. To come bearing food was even more unusual.

  "I heard about the awful incident at the lodge. That dreadful man pulling a knife on poor Annabelle. She must be so shaken up. I came to see how she was doing. And I brought both of you breakfast." She offered him the bag, shifting from foot to foot, clearly as uncomfortable as he was with this surprising visit.

  "Annabelle's gone." Certain Estelle hadn't planned to stay long, especially now that she knew he was the only one home, he didn't ask her to come in.

  "Oh my, she went to work already? She's certainly made of strong stuff."

  "Annabelle's gone back to New York." He ran a hand through his hair. He was exhausted and his mother was the last person he wanted to deal with at the moment. "Look, I don't know what your angle is or what you want with Annabelle, but she isn't here, so you can turn around and go home."

  Estelle drew a visibly deep breath. "But you're here and I'd like to come in and share breakfast," she said, her voice trembling.

  Vaughn narrowed his gaze. She wanted to have breakfast with him? "What's going on?"

  She blinked. "Did Annabelle tell you we had coffee yesterday?"

  He took the news like a punch in the gut. "No, she didn't. But we didn't have the chance to talk much." They'd done everything but talk.

  And like a fool, he'd been ridiculously relieved at the notion. Yet he didn't miss the irony that Annabelle apparently talked in depth to his mother, a woman who'd never bothered to talk much to him at all.

  Vaughn studied Estelle, really seeing her for the first time. She seemed more subdued, less uptight and arrogant than usual. What had caused the change, he didn't know but something made him step back and gesture for her to come inside.

  Feeling awkward-he couldn't remember having breakfast with her as a teenager-he poured two glasses of orange juice, the only drink left in the house since Annabe
lle had never made it to the store. Then he sat down across from his mother.

  "The fire changed a lot of things," Estelle said at last.

  Vaughn raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.

  "We-and I do mean we-panicked. Your father and I couldn't reach you by phone. He drove up to the lodge but you weren't there, either. At that point the firemen didn't know if you had been inside." She spoke, her voice low and subdued.

  "I wasn't in town. Annabelle's firm threw a party and I was in Manhattan."

  His mother nodded. "Annabelle told me. And I realized I didn't even have your cell phone number. What kind of mother am I?" She didn't meet his gaze.

  Vaughn didn't know how to answer her question. "We don't understand each other, that much is a fact. And I'm not sure you ever bothered to try. Or to accept that I wasn't the kind of son you wanted."

  The words burned the back of his throat but he forced himself to say them anyway. Not with hatred or anger this time, but as a means of baring his soul and maybe cleansing himself of the bad feelings he'd harbored for so long.

  "That's all true,” she admitted, shocking him. "Your father had dedicated his life to academia and I'd dedicated my life to him. An athlete wasn't… didn't-"

  "Fit into your plans," he finished for her. "Neither did a kid with a learning disability, but that's what I had. That's who I was," he continued, his voice rising as he spoke. "It's not a goddamn choice I made to make your lives more difficult." He slammed his hand against the tabletop and started to rise.

  Then catching sight of his mother's glassy eyes and hearing Annabelle's voice in his head saying, give her a chance, he forced himself to remain seated.

  "I was wrong," Estelle said. "We were wrong. We didn't know any better. I'm not making excuses, Brandon. Your father was raised that way by his father before him and you've seen where my parents came from. I was lucky to get out and not end up washing someone's toilets for a living like my mother did." She reached for a napkin and blotted her eyes. "But as I said, we were wrong and you paid the price. So did we, missing out on celebrating all your achievements and accomplishments because we had tunnel vision."

  He pressed a hand to his pounding temples. "I don't suppose I made it any easier," he admitted. He'd been a pain-in-the-ass kid from the moment he'd realized he didn't understand school and never would.

  Amazingly she laughed. "No, you didn't. But it wasn't your job to make our lives easier. It was ours to be more accepting. Now I'm not saying peace can come overnight or that we can all just wave a wand and forget the past and our differences, but I was hoping maybe we could try. You know, make a start toward trying to be a family."

  Damn, but he just didn't know. Old habits were hard to break. Old resentments even harder.

  "I don't know where to go from here," he admitted.

  "I'm just glad we made a start." Rising, she offered him a tentative smile. "I'm glad I took Annabelle's advice."

  Her words caught him up short. "What advice?"

  Estelle shook her head. "Nothing specific. Just some words on how to bridge the gap between us. She's a very special woman, Brandon."

  They hadn't discussed girls when he lived at home and he felt ridiculous starting now. Especially since he'd let this particular special woman walk out of his life without a word from him to try and stop her.

  He started to lead Estelle to the door when he paused by the kitchen counter and scribbled on a sheet of notepaper.

  "Before you go," he said, feeling more off-kilter than he could ever remember. "Take this."

  She accepted the paper and looked at him questioningly.

  "It's my cell phone number."

  Her look of gratitude said it all.

  THREE DAYS AFTER leaving Vaughn behind, Annabelle sat in her office sorting through a stack of messages and piles of important documents. For an hour, she tried to concentrate but thoughts of Vaughn and their time together continued to intrude. Missing him was enough to distract her but the thumping that had started from her uncle's office next door was driving her insane.

  The entire atmosphere here had changed because, true to her word, Lola had packed up and gone, leaving The Hot Zone in the hands of temporary help. There never would be a good time for Lola to quit and without her presence, the office felt vacant and empty. At her desk sat the third temp in as many days. Competent or not, each woman had quit after one of Uncle Yank's yelling tantrums.

  Another loud thump sounded from her uncle's office. Annabelle picked up the phone and buzzed for their new assistant but nobody answered. She tried Sophie next.

  "What's up, Annie?"

  'That's what I want to know. Can you come in here?'

  Sophie entered the office seconds later and shut the door at the same time another loud, jolting sound came from next door.

  "That!" Annabelle pointed to the wall adjoining her and Yank's office. "What the hell is going on in there?"

  Since Lola's departure, which had coincided with Annabelle's return, Yank had been more out of sorts than usual and Annabelle had no intention of checking things out on her own.

  Sophie shook her head. "You really don't want to know."

  "Yes, I do. Just break it to me gently."

  Before Sophie could explain, Annabelle's office door opened and Micki stormed inside. "I can't take it anymore!" she screamed.

  Since Micki's office bordered Yank's on the other side, Annabelle didn't have to ask what her sister meant.

  "Shut the door and join us," Sophie said, then turned back to Annabelle. "Uncle Yank is in his office and he's practicing."

  "Practicing what?" Annabelle asked, wincing even before she heard the answer.

  "Being blind. He's got a bandanna tied around his eyes and he's trying to see if he can navigate his office."

  "Oh my God." Annabelle laid her head down on her desk and groaned. She raised her gaze and looked at her sisters. "Wait a minute. I've done Internet research on macular degeneration. There are some very promising treatments and it could be years before he has a serious vision problem. Am I right?"

  "Completely correct," Sophie said. "In fact, he may retain much of his peripheral vision. Right now he's operating on pure fear."

  Micki nodded. "Lola's leaving didn't help, not that I blame her. The man's impossible! I think we should keep him blindfolded until he admits he needs and loves Lola. Then he'll be reasonable again and we can deal with his eyesight and the future of the agency."

  Annabelle rolled her eyes. "If only it were that simple," she murmured. "Sometimes a woman's love isn't enough. Sometimes a man hasn't been given the foundation to enable him to express his feelings in return."

  Sophie cocked an eyebrow, then strode over to Annabelle's desk. Leaning down, she got right into Annabelle's face. "Are you talking about Uncle Yank or Brandon Vaughn?" she asked bluntly.

  Annabelle dropped her head against her desk once more. "Argh!"

  "She's talking about Vaughn," she heard Micki say.

  Annabelle peeked up from above her folded arms. "I really blew it this time. Me, Miss I Can Handle Him Without Getting Attached'," she said wryly. "Not a chance."

  "I'm sorry, sis." Sophie shot her a sympathetic glance. "Can I take that to mean you're over Randy, though?" she asked, her expression showing she cared just a little too much about Annabelle's response.

  Annabelle glanced from Micki to Sophie. "I knew it. Even Vaughn sensed it at the party. You are involved with him, aren't you? Sophie, are you insane? I couldn't care less about Randy but I'm worried about you." She cocked her head. "Besides I thought you didn't like athletes."

  "I don't." Her sister glanced at her long fingernails. "That's what makes him safe."

  "Sophie," Micki groaned.

  "What? Did you think I could be around all these guys and never, well, you know."

  Annabelle glanced at her sisters, grateful for their closeness, even grateful for their disagreements. As long as they had each other, they could weather outside storms.

&
nbsp; And Vaughn was Annabelle's most turbulent.

  Another loud crash followed. They forgot the girl talk and ran for Yank's office. Annabelle got there first and opened the door to find he'd knocked his private black phone off its special stand with a cane he held in his hand.

  "Dammit!" He ripped a ridiculous-looking pink bandanna off his eyes and tossed it to the ground. Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light again, he looked at the girls. 'To hell with the cane. Annie, call and get me one of those Seeing Eye dogs," he yelled at her.

  "This is ridiculous. You don't need any of these things," Micki yelled as if he were losing his hearing, not his eyesight. "You need Lola!"

  "I don't need anyone. Annie, you gonna get me a dog or what?"

  She rubbed her hands against her pounding temples. "You hate dogs that shed," she reminded him, buying time.

  "I just read about a new breed," Sophie said, spouting from memory at a really bad time. "It was bred for blind people who have allergy issues but still need a canine companion."

  "Uncle Yank isn't blind," Annabelle reminded her. "And we're going to set up appointments with specialists to understand his condition before we do anything drastic." Like get the man who couldn't make a commitment a dog that he'd have to take care of for a good ten years or more.

  "What's the breed called so I can look into one myself?" Uncle Yank asked.

  "It's a Labradoodle," Sophie supplied with a smile. She often got so caught up in her explanations that she forgot the important things going on around her. Like the fact that they didn't want to encourage their uncle's behavior.

  This time Annabelle leaned backward, so she could hit her head against the wall in complete frustration. Because despite the utter family chaos surrounding her, one important question floated in her brain.

  If Vaughn were here, what would he do in order to get through to Uncle Yank? It seemed no matter how hard she tried, all roads led back to Vaughn. Too bad those roads seemed to be Ml of potholes, including the fact that he hadn't called her. And she didn't know if he ever would.