Hot Stuff (Hot Zone 1)

He cut into the steak and began eating. "Delicious," he said, between bites.

"I'll let the cook know." She spoke with laughter in her voice but he couldn't mistake the glow of pleasure in her cheeks or the warmth in her eyes at his compliment.

Just watching her, his skin flushed hot with wanting.

"Tell me about your reasons for building this lodge. I'm sure it has something to do with the kids you want to bring in for the summer. And I already know you volunteer at, the high school. So, what gives?" she prodded and not too subtly, either.

Her pointed questions froze everything that had been thawing inside him. He was drawn to her yes, but he didn't trust her. Not enough to divulge his deepest secret and thus expose his biggest fear-that no woman would ever love the real Brandon Vaughn. The man beneath the trophies, money and rings.

"I thought we were going to talk business." He cleared his throat before continuing. "My reasons for the lodge are personal."

"So you say." Leaning back in her seat, she drained the last of her drink. "But I answered your question and you said you'd answer mine," she reminded him.

Her eyes had glazed with the effect of the wine. Her deep vee-neck plunged a bit too low, revealing soft white skin and plump cleavage he'd give anything to taste. Her allure had never been more potent.

Too bad he was about to douse the flame. "As I recall, I said you could ask. I never agreed to answer."

Dismay flickered in her eyes but she covered it with a casual wave of her hand. "You disappoint me, Vaughn."

"I’ll have to live with that." But he suspected it wouldn't be as easy as he claimed. He didn't like coming up short with her and he wasn't sure why.

"Just don't underestimate my determination," she warned him. "In the meantime, tell me more about this house."

At least that answer he could give her.

She rose and began collecting dirty plates.

"Leave them. The cleaning lady comes in the morning." He stopped her, catching her wrist in his hand. The petite feel took him off guard. For a woman so sure of herself, she seemed fragile in his grasp.

He wondered if he'd have to be gentle with her when they made love, then discounted the notion. She was stronger than she looked and tough as nails. And he was an idiot even thinking about having sex with this woman.

He quickly released her. "I bought this place because it fit my needs," he said, answering her question.

She lowered herself back into her seat. "So you said. But it's a contradiction. You say you need space and you buy a huge house, yet you only open and live in a fraction of it."

"So? It's far enough from the residential sections of town to give me the privacy I want."

"Mmm. I guess that makes sense."

He narrowed his gaze. "You don't sound convinced."

She pursed her lips in thought. "Well when your mother was here earlier, I picked up on some of what you two were saying. And the dynamics were pretty obvious."

He clenched his jaw tight, hating any conversation that involved his mother or father. He'd long since come to terms with the man he'd become or so he thought until thoughts of how his parents viewed him resurfaced.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked Annabelle.

"I think you came home to show your parents how good you've done in your life."

"When did you become a psychiatrist?"

She shrugged. "A publicist has to be good at reading people and dissecting situations. And right now I sense I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You're just pushing too much. As you've seen for yourself, my parents don't think I've accomplished a damn thing with my life, so hell yes, 1 wanted to show them a thing or two."

"And buying this monstrosity accomplished that?"

"No," he admitted. "It just brought me back to all the crap I left behind." He'd intended to give her a short, one-sentence explanation so she'd back off. Instead he'd given her more insight into himself than he allowed most people.