Hot Stuff (Hot Zone 1)

"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 blue 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.

CHAPTER FOUR

"SHE's HOT STUFF, Vaughn. Are you sure you aren't doing her?" Nick Gregory, Vaughn's lifelong friend, asked.

Nick was also an investor in the lodge with as much at stake as Vaughn. Nick had been recently laid off from his job at CNT Sports Network and had wanted in on the project. Vaughn hadn't needed the money but he'd agreed anyway because there was no one he felt closer to than Nick.

Vaughn and Nick had grown up together in Greenlawn, New York. They'd rebel-roused throughout high school varsity football and as a result, the people in town remembered them as a collective pain in the ass, even if both had returned as hometown heroes, Nick from his stint for Detroit and Vaughn for Dallas.

"Earth to Vaughn. I asked if you were doing the lovely Miss Jordan "

It was Nick's best friend status that kept Vaughn from strangling him now.

Vaughn paused from lifting free weights, and with Nick spotting, put the 380 pounds back in their holder. "Hell yeah I'm sure." Not that it stopped him from wanting to bury himself inside all that lush femininity. "I wouldn't need to release all this pent-up energy if I were."

He vividly recalled the moment in the hall when he'd almost pinned her against his rock-hard body, lifted her tiny skirt and taken her right there against the wall. Vaughn sat up and let the blood rush out of his head. It had already permanently settled in another body part and would remain there as long as Annabelle stayed in his home.

He shot Nick a warning glance. "You'd better not be thinking of touching her, either, or her uncle will come after you with a shotgun." Reminding Nick that Yank would be pissed served as an important reminder to himself. Screwing Yank's niece would put him back in the doghouse he'd just crawled out of.

> "Considering she's way over eighteen, I don't mink Yank Morgan would be all that upset. You on the other hand-" Nick barked out his trademark laugh.