Carly Phillips - Hot Stuff

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.

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.