Hot Stuff (Hot Zone 1)

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?"