CHAPTER THREE
Lola began her ritual of straightening the office for the night. Although she could leave the drudge work for the cleaning staff, she usually enjoyed the suddenly-quiet time when she stayed. But most of all, she liked being around to take care of Yank, even if he didn’t always deserve or appreciate it.
“Do you really think you can play with Annabelle and Brandon’s lives?” she asked as Yank passed by her desk, treating her to a wink that never failed to send swirling spirals of warmth through her body.
He paused. “I’m not playing. I’m deadly serious. All three of those girls have been messing up their love lives and I’m sick of watching from the sidelines.”
“Look who’s talking,” she muttered. “They’re young. They’re entitled to make mistakes. What’s your excuse?” she asked him.
He rolled his eyes and as usual ignored her jibe. “Annabelle’s picked real losers and because of that, she wouldn’t know a decent man if he bit her in the ass.”
“And suddenly Brandon Vaughn’s a decent man? Just yesterday you called him a lowlife, blood-sucking snake.”
He chuckled. “Any man with the balls to grovel is okay in my book. I missed the kid. Besides, he and Annie have a lot in common. More than either of them know,” he said.
“Besides picking losers?” Lola asked wryly.
“Yep. You got tomorrow’s schedule?” he asked her.
Having anticipated his request, she picked up a sheet of paper she’d printed earlier. She let it dangle between her fingertips, unsure of whether to hand him the page or—
“Read it to me, will you?”
She sighed, wondering when he’d admit to having a problem. He’d either have to take himself to a doctor or she’d be forced to make the appointment for him.
“You have your weekly breakfast with Spence Atkins, a conference call with O’Keefe and Sophie regarding Randy Dalton, and then, nothing.”
She hesitated, then decided to assert her authority, and if he didn’t like it, tough luck. “I was thinking Dr. Lenkowitz could fit you in for that eye exam you canceled last month. You really shouldn’t put it off any longer.”
Yank scowled, the frown doing nothing to detract from his good looks. “I’m fine, and since I have the afternoon off, I’d rather go to the track than waste time sitting ’round with blurry eyes waiting for him to use those machines on me.”
She raised the newspaper from the desk and asked, “Which paper am I holding?”
She knew good and well he couldn’t tell if it was the Post or the News without moving closer and she dropped the section back to the table before he could answer. “I’m making an appointment. I’ll let you know when it is,” she informed him.
“Damned bossy woman,” he muttered.
“Then find one who isn’t,” she said, rising from her desk.
He stormed back into his office and shut the door behind him, ignoring her.
She suppressed a smile, wondering if he knew how predictable he’d become. He counted on her enough that he’d never fire her. If she wanted out, she’d have to quit.
The thought made her queasy. Until now, she’d been content to remain at The Hot Zone with Yank. Especially since he’d mellowed, his days of dating different women every night behind him. Her feelings for the man ran deep or she wouldn’t have put up with him on any level for all these years.
Contrary to what the girls thought, she and Yank had had their affair, right before the girls’ parents had died and left them with their bachelor uncle. Lola had hoped that, over time, he would come to see her as more than his assistant or even another woman he’d taken to bed. Then the girls had arrived and the passion of their early affair had given way to the priority of settling his nieces and comforting their grief. He’d needed her for that, and she’d fallen in love with the three little girls. She’d already been head over heels for Yank Morgan.
Unfortunately, becoming an instant parent had scared Yank, so much so that instead of settling more, he’d gone wild. He’d been the doting uncle by day, but moved from one willing female to the next by night—all in the hopes of proving to himself that just because he’d become the girls’ guardian, his lifestyle didn’t have to change.
Lola had put a quick end to his using the girls as chick-magnets by turning them into a family. For the children, her scheme had worked. They’d had as normal an upbringing as possible with Yank as their surrogate father. But Lola had put her own life on hold to help him. She’d done so without being asked and she’d requested nothing in return.
She liked to think that if not for the girls needing a female influence in their lives, she’d have long since moved on from Yank Morgan and his unwillingness to commit. It was too late to really know. But it wasn’t too late to acknowledge the ever-growing restlessness she was feeling. The lack of comfort in the routine she used to love. And she was too smart not to understand why.
The girls were grown women and didn’t need either of them the way they used to. Although Yank was certainly no longer the youthful prize he once was, it hadn’t changed her feelings one bit. Though the girls didn’t yet realize he was having vision problems, Lola did. She’d have no difficulty remaining by his side throughout whatever life had in store, but not with things the way they were now.
She wanted more from Yank Morgan than he’d given thus far, or for the sake of her self-esteem and her future, she’d have no choice but to walk out on the man once and for all.
* * *
Annabelle waited for Vaughn to pick her up and thought longingly of her car locked in the New York City parking garage below her building. It wasn’t that she loved the little sports car. She’d bought it in a fit of pique, when she’d realized her then twenty-nine-year-old body couldn’t compete with Randy’s eighteen-year-old girlfriend’s. It was the freedom the car represented that she would miss.
She liked being in charge of her own destiny, and being stuck up in Greenlawn with no means of escape frazzled her already shot nerves. Nerves that were on edge for one reason only—Brandon Vaughn; his sexy gaze, hot body, and the disdain she sensed smoldering just below the surface.
She’d been standing outside her uncle’s office and she’d overheard him ask for Sophie, then Micki. He’d all but begged for anyone but her, actually. He was settling for her as his publicist and she resented the implication that she wasn’t as good as her sisters.
She didn’t know what the jock had against her, but she planned to do the best damn job she could and then hightail it out of the small town. Because despite it all, he was just the kind of macho ladies’ man who could seduce her body and wreak havoc with her heart. But considering he was pushing her away as hard as she was running, they ought to survive their time together just fine.
A black Lincoln Navigator SUV pulled to a stop and Vaughn stepped out. Shades covered his eyes, but she could sense him staring at her as he strode around the back to help with her bags. Though it was early summer and she expected to be hot, the sizzling spike in her body temperature had nothing to do with weather and everything to do with the man staring at her from behind his dark lenses.
Sammy, the aging doorman in her building, attempted to assist with the luggage, bending over, then grabbing his back as if he’d pulled a muscle. Annabelle groaned. He loved this charade, faking an injury in a bid for a pity tip.
“I can handle it,” Vaughn said, lightly slapping the older man on the shoulder. “The knee’s bad, but you wouldn’t want me to feel like a complete has-been by helping, would you?”
“You’re as good as your reputation, Mr. Vaughn,” Sammy said, obviously recognizing him.
Annabelle was used to being with self-absorbed stars and Vaughn’s attempt to use his own injury as an excuse to protect Sammy’s pride was so unexpected, a suspicious tingling warmth rose in her chest.
Vaughn palmed a ten-spot into Sammy’s hand, falling right into the old man’s con. Annabelle shrugged. She wasn’t about to ruin Sammy’s fun.
As the doorman walked off, Vaughn took one look at the animal bag hanging from her shoulder, and slid his glasses down on his nose. “No frigging way.”
Annabelle grit her teeth. “I am not leaving him behind.”
“You’re only going to be gone a few days. Isn’t there a neighbor who can take it?” he asked, looking pained at the thought of bringing her pet along.
“Not it. He.” She didn’t think he’d noticed the rabbit cage behind the biggest suitcase, at least not yet. “And he’s still skittish from being on death row. He needs the certainty of knowing I’m not going to abandon him.” And since Annabelle knew exactly what that fear felt like, there was no room for compromise here.
Vaughn set his jaw and opened the back door of the truck. He hefted her large suitcase, laptop and duffel, which held her toiletries, into the trunk. That was when his gaze fell onto the rabbit’s cage.
“Oh, for the love of—” He bit back a curse. “Why don’t you just live on a farm?”
“What do you have against animals?”
Vaughn raised his gaze heavenward and drew an even breath. What had he done to deserve this torture? “I have nothing against them.”
“Do you have a pet?” she asked, standing up for herself and arguing right back. He admired her grit, but she was really pushing every button he had.
“No pets. Not since I was ten.”
“It was probably a dog. A big old nasty rottweiler,” she muttered. “I’ll bet you had matching personalities.”
“Actually, it was a fish.” He’d won it at a school carnival throwing a football through an old tire.
He’d named the fish T.D., short for touchdown, and brought his prize and a small container of fish food home with him. Of course, no one had even noticed the fish, so it had been up to Vaughn to feed him. Unable to read the directions and afraid to underfeed, Vaughn had poured a hefty amount of food into the bowl. He’d repeated it three times the first day, and when T.D. had consumed it all, he’d increased the amount the day after that. The fish hadn’t lasted more than a couple of days before it had gone belly up.
When he’d explained to his parents, his father had called him an idiot while his mother had been relieved nobody would have to clean a fish tank in her pristine house. Vaughn’s feelings had never entered the equation.
It hadn’t been his first lesson in dealing with his dyslexia, but it had been a lasting one. One cemented in his adult life. Don’t get close to anyone and don’t take responsibility for anything other than yourself.
Unaware, Annabelle waved a hand, dismissively. “Fish aren’t anything like real, live furry pets. These kind get under your skin,” she said, blowing a kiss at the mongrel he’d met yesterday.
Vaughn didn’t hold the comment against her since she didn’t know his history. Yet once again, he couldn’t help noticing the contradiction between the warm, loving woman who showered animals with love and affection and Miss Hot Stuff in the stilettos and short skirt. With all the construction going on back at the lodge, he hoped like hell she’d brought sneakers.
“Look,” Annabelle said, shooting him a pleading glance. “Many hotels allow pets so it shouldn’t be hard to keep these guys out of your way.”
Her words brought him back to reality. “Hotel?” He let out a laugh.
“Motel, then.”
He shook his head.
“Bed and breakfast?” she asked hopefully.
“Honey, would I be building a lodge if the town didn’t have the need?”
She shrugged. “I just got this assignment, remember? I’m not yet up to speed. But I will be.” She patted the laptop he’d just placed on top of her large suitcase at the same time his hand came to rest on the computer.
A jolt ricocheted through him, shaking his equilibrium. She sucked in a startled breath and withdrew her hand fast. Apparently, she’d felt the connection, too.
Vaughn quickly grasped for the thread of conversation they’d suddenly dropped. Hotels, motels and where she would stay. Not exactly the safety net he’d been looking for. But obviously, Yank hadn’t given her any facts on this subject.
Vaughn had always found that truth was best served cold and hard. “There’s no B and B, either. The nearest hotel is a solid forty minutes away. You’ll be staying at my place.”
One delicate, finely shaped eyebrow rose warily.
“Trust me, it’s not a come-on,” he said, reading her mind.
Or maybe it was his own mind he was betraying, since he couldn’t stop imagining her in his king-size bed, the normally cold sheets hot from the friction of their bodies having sizzling sex.
“Are you sure about that? Because I know attraction when I feel it, and this is obviously mutual.”
Swallowing a groan, he met her gaze. “What my body wants and what I want are two different things.” He slammed the trunk shut.
“No sense sugarcoating it,” she muttered, a glimmer of hurt in her voice.
Well hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t desire her or find her attractive. He just didn’t need or want the involvement. But, he reminded himself, he cared about her uncle and he certainly didn’t want to hurt her feelings, either. He walked around to hold the passenger door open, hoping good manners would make up for the verbal slap.
“Since I’m staying with you and you don’t want to make a flashy scene, what exactly are we going to tell people I’m doing?” she asked him.
They’d never settled this question yesterday and he’d spent last night thinking this through. As he’d tossed and turned, thoughts of the beautiful blonde pervading his mind, her sexy scent forever in his memory.
“We’ll tell people you’re an old college friend with a background in hotel management. Nobody in town will know any better, and in the meantime you’ll get an inside look at the lodge and I’ll get you a rundown on the problems,” he said, repeating the scenario he’d concocted.
She stared at him without saying a word. He took that as agreement.
“You’ll be my spin wizard, decide what kind of ad or whatever to take to fix things, and be on your way. And that, as they say, will be that.” He slammed the door shut and hoped like hell he was right.
* * *
Vaughn’s home turned out to be a huge, modern monstrosity built in the midst of traditional suburbia, Annabelle thought. If he was seeking to make a statement, something to say I’ve arrived, he’d done it in a grand way.
She didn’t have a problem with the house itself, but the lack of shrubs, trees, plants and flowers gave the white stucco an austere, unwelcoming look. The best thing Annabelle could say about the place was that she’d be guaranteed breathing room and space away from the hot-blooded athlete to whom she was so attracted.
Though how she could be hot for a guy who didn’t want to want her was beyond her. Damn her hormones anyway. She’d chosen to confront the sexual currents head-on by acknowledging them and, with any luck, neutralizing their power. Hah. If anything, she thought as she watched him unload her suitcases from the back of the truck, muscles flexing beneath his shirt, he intrigued her even more.
As she followed him up the stone steps, she focused on the reason for this trip. Damage control for the lodge, which Vaughn intended to use as a summer place for underprivileged kids. She shook her head, still unable to reconcile that altruistic part of the man with the gruff guy who disliked animals. She wondered if the charity bit was for show and she pursed her lips in thought.
Somehow, she had to get a handle on the man and assess this situation and its players. Otherwise she had no way of handling his crisis. So far Vaughn wasn’t cooperating. Since she had yet to meet his friends or family, or get a sense of who he was and what image he wanted to convey for the lodge, she had only this house to go by.
The large and lonely dwelling didn’t bode well for her vision of a PR damage control plan. Neither did his notion of keeping her in the background for too long. She could lay low for a while, but to fix this situation, she very much intended to make her mark.
“I love your house,” she said with forced enthusiasm.
“Really? I hate it.” He paused at the door and dug into his pocket for the keys.
Now there was a comment worth exploring. “Then why live here?”
“Because I wanted to move back to my hometown and this was the only place that fit my needs.” He flung open the front door and lugged her belongings inside. Her laptop hung from one shoulder, a large suitcase trailed behind him from one hand and he hefted her toiletry bag in the other.
He’d left the animals up to her and she held Boris and Natasha in each hand as she stepped inside. “And what needs were those?” she asked, picking up their conversation.
“Peace, quiet and space.”
She nodded as if she understood. She didn’t, of course. She’d lived life afraid of being separated from her loved ones. Even now, as an adult, she lived across the hall from Sophie and Micki, needing to hear their voices and feel them close by. She even filled her apartment with things, breathing and otherwise, so she’d never really feel alone.
“So, which wing is mine?” she asked, only half joking.
“The house is huge, but I only reopened one part,” he explained. “I didn’t need the rest and didn’t see the need to have it cleaned out or fixed up.”
Odd for a man who’d just claimed he needed space, Annabelle thought.
He walked her through the hallway, which had been painted white, and pointed directly in front of her. “That’s the kitchen,” he said, showing her a state-of-the-art room with stainless steel appliances, white cabinets and white walls.
Then he started down a long hallway and halted halfway. “This room has a double bed for friends who come by. My room’s that one there.” He gestured to a closed door and a room with which hers shared an adjoining wall. “You have your own bathroom, so you should be fine,” he added.
She choked back a laugh. A bed in a sterile white room, and a bathroom with shower. “All the comforts of home.” Or a prison cell.
“I thought so.”
“What’s up the center stairs?” she asked of the grandiose circular staircase she’d seen when she’d walked in.
He shrugged. “More rooms I don’t need.”
Upstairs probably held a huge master bedroom and a variety of other larger rooms, while he chose to stay downstairs, in an area originally designated for staff. Strange and stranger, she thought. Looking at the bright side, this area was small and cozy, or would be if it had been decorated at all.
“Down the stairs behind the kitchen, there’s a gym in the basement, and a hot tub and sauna. Make yourself at home,” he said, turning away.
She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost dinnertime and I still haven’t seen the lodge.”
“Hang on.” He disappeared into his room and returned with a stack of files in his hand. “I thought you could go through notes on the problems we’ve been having. Tomorrow you can see things for yourself.” He handed her the large pile of papers. “I’ll go get your luggage.”
She narrowed her gaze at his retreating back. “Is it my imagination or is he being deliberately distant and businesslike?” she asked, unzipping the dog bag so Boris could pop his head up and lick her cheek. The rabbit could take care of business in the crate, but the dog needed a walk.
She hooked him on to his leash and headed back into the hall just as her host was returning, suitcases in hand. No room on either side, she attempted to slide past him, her back flat against the wall. Her maneuver forced Vaughn to do the same and their bodies brushed evocatively against one another.
Chest against chest, thigh against thigh. Nothing could disguise the instant heat they generated. Even the impassive look on his face disappeared, warmth replacing his steely resolve. His sexy brown gaze deepened, darkening to sapphire pools she wanted to dive into.
Annabelle inhaled, trying to fight the pull, but his potent masculine scent that had surrounded her for two and a half hours in the truck suddenly enveloped her again. And this time she was face-to-face with temptation.
His full lips beckoned to her and her entire body waited for the touch of his mouth on hers. She darted her tongue out, moistening her lips. Waiting, hoping…
Until the dog barked loudly, shattering the silken silence surrounding them and startling Annabelle out of the ridiculous spell holding her captive. She let the dog, who weighed less than twelve pounds, pull her away from Brandon Vaughn.
As she headed outdoors for fresh air and sanity, she wished she could have left the burning desire behind as well.