Carly Phillips: Hot Stuff

"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’tget close to anyone and don’ttake 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 hefted 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 in return 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.