Carly Phillips - Hot Stuff

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 Annabelle 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.