Hot Stuff (Hot Zone 1)

AS A CELEBRITY of sorts, Vaughn was used to the spotlight. He was used to stares, glares and whispers behind his back as well as blatantly in front of his face. So when he walked into his parents' home and conversation stopped, he had his first inkling there'd be trouble tonight. And he didn't think the gorgeous babe on his arm had caused the stunned silence-although she'd rendered him mute when they'd met in the front hallway of his house twenty minutes earlier.

Who'd have thought an appropriate-looking, basic black dress could appear so sexy, seductive and sultry? Of course it had something to do with the blonde filling out the material and even more to do with Vaughn and Annabelle's early-morning meeting in his bed. Because now, not only had he seen her body, but he'd held those firmly rounded breasts in his hands. He no longer had to rely on imagination, and the reality had taken up permanent residence in his mind.

Annabelle tugged on his arm, breaking him out of his daydream. "Are we going inside or are we going to stand in the entryway all night?" she asked, attempting to redirect his attention to where it belonged.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and focused on the company in the room. Their entry complete, the guests of his parents and the important trustees of the university had begun to talk among themselves again. And just his luck, his mother began to make a direct line toward them.

"We're going to mingle," he assured Annabelle, grasping her hand and heading in the opposite direction from Estelle.

Unfortunately she was a woman on a mission. "Oh, Brandon!" She waved, giving him no choice but to wait for her to accost them.

Only when she'd come close, so no one could hear, did she begin her tantrum. "You knew you were coming to this party, so how could you allow such a personal interview to come out today?" Her direct glare was more on Annabelle than on him.

Still, he wasn't about to turn an obvious family issue into Annabelle's problem. "Good evening to you, too, mother,” he said, smiling for the benefit of the people around them.

"Hello, Mrs. Vaughn." Annabelle extended her hand but Estelle didn't take it. Instead she motioned with a regal tilt of her head. "In the study. Now, please."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Let's see what's on her mind," he whispered to Annabelle. And maybe then he'd find out why everyone else had paused when they'd laid eyes on him this evening.

It was obvious the shit was about to fly.

They entered the study and Estelle clicked the door closed politely, but her squared shoulders and heavy breathing spoke another story completely.

She appraised him, her gaze raking the length of his European suit. "Just what is all over you?" she asked, brushing at his lapels with her hand.

He glanced down. "Hair," he muttered.

"Cat hair," Annabelle added with a cheery smile.

Her cat had decided she liked his room best. He'd laid his suit out on the bed and when he'd returned from his shower, she was curled into a ball on top of the dark jacket. He'd tried to brush it off with no luck. Just why the animal had decided to make him her best friend, he had no idea.

"Well you could have made sure you were lint free before coming out for the evening. We have important guests " his mother reminded him.

As if he didn't know. As if he really cared. Despite not being thrilled with the influx of animals in his home, he had to admit he didn't mind riling his mother a bit more and he shot Annabelle an amused glance. His coconspirator grinned back.

At the same moment, Vaughn realized her black dress was lint free, yet she'd had the dog and the rabbit staying in her room. "How'd you manage to keep clean?"

"Scotch tape. But you were in such a rush to leave, I didn't have a chance to share the trick with you."

His rush had actually been to get into a room with a crowd so he wouldn't rip off her dress and finish what they'd started this morning.

Estelle cleared her throat. "If you two wouldn't mind paying attention?"

They both glanced her way. "What's going on?" Vaughn asked his mother.

She folded her hands together. "You both lied to me. Annabelle Jordan isn't an old friend opening a hotel in New York. She's your publicist." She spat the word as if it were poison.

Was that all? Vaughn shook his head laughing. He'd tried to keep Annabelle's profession a secret only because he didn't want to be perceived as manipulating the public for his own selfish purposes.

As far as he was concerned, his mother had no reason to question who or what Annabelle was to him. She only cared now because somehow, she perceived herself as an affected or wounded party.

"Mrs. Vaughn," Annabelle began, "I'm-"

"I'm handling this," he said, interrupting whatever Annabelle had been about to say. "I hired Annabelle to help with a few PR issues surrounding the lodge. What's wrong with that?"

Estelle straightened her linen suit jacket. "Did you also ask her to go digging into your past? To bring up bad memories? To humiliate your father when all the trustees would be around?"

Beside him, he felt Annabelle stiffen. Still unsure what was going on, his skin began to tingle uncomfortably, but he ignored his mother's accusations and addressed the one thing he did know for certain. "I don't make any decisions in my life based around what you or Theodore want."