Hot Stuff (Hot Zone 1)

"Better to struggle?" she asked, frustration in her voice.

"Better to pretend you just don't like school than to be laughed at for being stupid."

"Then why offer the camp? Why give kids a place to come if you think it's going to stigmatize them?"

He leaned forward on his elbows. "The camp will give any struggling child, dyslexic or otherwise, an opportunity to even the odds of succeeding."

"An equal opportunity camp for delinquents and kids with disabilities alike, huh?" She shook her head. "I don't buy your theory. You're assuming your experience with your parents is the way all families will react to dyslexia or other disabilities. Are you suggesting kids shouldn't be diagnosed at all?"

"I'm suggesting that I don't force the issue. I'd rather give kids a place to come where they can experience the freedom of learning in a nonjudgmental environment, no matter what their problems or issues are."

She pushed her cereal away and rolled her eyes. "Sounds so good, you're definitely full of it. In fact, it sounds like you're running and not just from your parents' reaction." She rose and stood in front of him, her face inches from his. "Who else hurt you, Vaughn? Was it your ex-wife? Is that why you haven't called her back?"

He narrowed his gaze, unable to believe she was this feisty, this frustrating, this gutsy. That she would push him so far angered him beyond belief. But damned if it didn't turn him on, too. "As a matter of fact, I just did call her back."

"Oh."

"She wanted to borrow money."

Annabelle blinked. "I see. So was it her?" she asked softly. "Was Laura the one who hurt you and made you close yourself off?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, though he was afraid she did. Afraid that once again, she'd dug into his psyche and understood him too well.

The truth was that as much as he wanted to help kids like him, he really was afraid to put himself out there for public scrutiny because then he'd risk rejection. Vaughn might have gotten help with reading but it was the psychological scars that remained.

"Okay I'll stop pushing. Just think about it," Annabelle said into the silence, her lips so close he could almost taste her.

Last time he'd agreed to think, he'd opened up and admitted his dyslexia. He feared with Annabelle here, he'd end up doing the same thing again and suffer public humiliation as a result. So instead of answering, he merely inclined his head slightly.

She grinned. "I'll take that as a yes. Now kiss me."

He blinked, surprised but definitely not opposed to her directive. "That won't solve our differences," he reminded her.

"Maybe not, but it'll sure feel good."

He laughed, breaking the tension. She had a way of doing that, easing his mind, making him feel good.

But just when he was about to kiss her, the damn doorbell rang.

"What is it with this place?" she asked. "Phone calls, door bells, interruptions galore. It's like Grand Central Station." She tucked her hair behind her ear and inclined her head toward the entry.

He hit the intercom button on the phone near the wall. "Who is it?"

"I should have known you'd be too damn lazy to answer the door yourself. No wonder you're getting old and flabby. Get the hell out here and let me inside," Yank Morgan ordered with the ferocity of a drill sergeant and a man used to getting his way.

At the sound of the older man's voice, Vaughn's stomach plummeted. "Were you expecting him?" he asked Annabelle.

Eyes wide, she shook her head. "No, but I'm going to get dressed while you let him in."

"Good idea." The last thing Vaughn wanted was to have Yank Morgan stroll in and realize it was the morning after Vaughn had had sex with his niece,

Yank's nieces were his pride and joy. If the man found out Vaughn had slept with Annabelle, no commitment involved, he'd have Vaughn's hide. Bottom line, he'd cut him out of his life again. And that was the last thing Vaughn wanted. He ran a hand through his hair, unable to believe he'd forgotten the main reason to steer clear of Annabelle.

Resigned, he headed to the front door to let his guest inside. Yank appeared scruffier than usual and more tired than Vaughn remembered seeing him in the city.

Added to that, this visit wasn't planned and Vaughn grew concerned. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, gesturing for Yank to come inside.

"Can't a man visit his niece without you asking one hundred questions?"