Vaughn's gaze devoured her, his eyes glittering with so many mixed emotions she couldn't read them all. She'd start with basic understanding.
"What are you doing here?" she asked him.
"Can we discuss this somewhere more private?" He tilted his head, indicating the television cameras and reporters circling the room. Certainly some of their encounter had already been caught on tape.
She didn't care. He'd put her through the ringer and she wasn't about to make this easy for him. "Before I go anywhere I want to know why you're here."
He shrugged out of his jacket. "I had a feeling you weren't going to make this easy, not that I deserve it. Isn't it obvious what I'm doing here?" he asked. "I came to see you."
He took his sport jacket and lay it over her shoulders so the broad garment draped her back. Then he pulled the lapels together in front in an obvious attempt to cover her cleavage.
Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear. "You're gorgeous, sweetheart, but I'd rather you save the show for me and me alone, if you don't mind,"
"What is it with men and their obsession with breasts?" she asked, realizing he'd obviously gone to visit with Uncle Yank before coming here. How else would he know where to find her?
She stepped out of his grasp. "It'll be a cold day in hell before you see these babies again, Vaughn. That is unless you have some fancy footwork to show me that'll compensate for the hell you put me through."
He treated her to that sexy, cocky grin she'd come to adore. "I'm known for my footwork, love."
Her heart tripped at his word choice and her gaze flew to his to judge if he meant the word or if he'd tossed out a flippant term of endearment. But his expression wasn't giving anything away.
She swallowed hard. "Start showing me and you'd better not put that foot in your mouth."
"Not here." He wrapped his arm around her and led her toward the door but they didn't make it far before Entertainment's star reporter cornered them with her cameraman and microphone.
"Brandon Vaughn, what an unexpected surprise. Are you and Miss Jordan an item?" Vanessa Fulton leaned toward them as if she were about to get the scoop of the year. "Come on and give my viewers something to discuss over the water cooler tomorrow."
Annabelle stiffened as she waited for his answer. She expected a defensive word or a terse "no comment." Instead Vaughn's grin was as big as his colossal ego. Or at least the ego he used for public appearances, Annabelle thought. Unfortunately for her she'd gotten to know the real man, the vulnerable man, and that had been her undoing.
"You're going to have to ask Ms. Jordan the current status of our relationship. I'm open to whatever she desires," Vaughn said, obviously playing for the camera.
The louse.
Annabelle had seconds to contemplate her options. No publicity is bad publicity? Not a good choice because that mantra had come back to bite her with Randy Dalton. Instead of the wounded party, she'd come off as the spoiled, jilted brat. Discreet silence? Also not a possibility since it'd leave the viewer in control of perception and result in Annabelle looking as if she were Vaughn's latest conquest of the moment.
Perception, she thought to herself again. That was the key. She smiled big and wide for Vanessa and her viewers. "You heard the man. He's open to anything." She winked at the reporter in a woman to woman sort of way.
Then she gave the perception that she was one hundred percent in control by hooking her finger into Vaughn's belt buckle. "If you'll excuse us now, we have important issues to discuss." And with that, she pulled Vaughn toward the door, leading him by the front of his pants, laughing as the swinging ballroom doors closed behind them.
"That was low, Annie," he said in her ear.
She shrugged. "Next time wear a tie."
Vaughn growled. He was finished playing games. He lifted her around the waist, tossed her over his shoulder and refused to put her down until the valet brought his truck around. He buckled her in and locked the doors, including the childproof locks so she couldn't run out on him.
Late at night, no traffic. Man, sometimes he loved New York City and how close everything was, since not five minutes later, he pulled up to her apartment building. Fate was definitely on his side as a parting spot waited out front. He pulled in, then strode around to help her out.
He couldn't read her mind, but he knew she was less than pleased with him at the moment. He wasn't pleased with himself and wouldn't be until he had her alone in her apartment where she could yell, he could talk and they both could lay things on the line.
She stormed into the building and he followed her into one of the elevators. "Aren't you going to thank me for saving you from Bruno's wandering hands?"
She hit the eighth-floor button. "I could have handled him."
"I know," he told her.
That seemed to take her off guard and she glanced at him warily.
"It's just that I couldn't handle that SOB's hands on you. He's lucky his arm's still in its socket," Vaughn muttered.