Carly Phillips - Hot Stuff

"Annabelle? What's going on in your end of things?" her uncle asked.

Annabelle looked forward to the twinkle in his eye when he glanced at her. Despite his grumbling, Annabelle knew just how much he adored her. "I just wrapped up overseeing Ernesto Mendoza's Nike commercial and put him on a plane back to Dallas. Last night I accompanied the chairman of NYCT's son to a charity gala. I made sure they know we've got the stars they want to support their cause. They'll turn to us before they look to Atkins for sponsors," she said, winking at her uncle.

Despite his long-standing friendship with Spencer Atkins, they were business rivals of the deepest sort, Annabelle knew. And she always looked out for Uncle Yank's best interest.

"That's my girl," Yank said in a voice infused with warmth and pride.

"Did you wear the Louis Vuitton dress?" Sophie asked, referring to Annabelle's newest acquisition.

Annabelle grinned. "You know it, sister." The dress, with its low vee in the back was perfect for keeping a man's attention on her, especially when his hand lay on the small of her bare back.

The banging gavel startled Annabelle and she jumped in her seat.

"Back to business," Uncle Yank grumbled and all three sisters laughed.

"Well besides all that, I've got the usual insanity waiting for me in my office," Annabelle said, wrapping up her summary.

"Micki?" Uncle Yank asked. "Got any openings for a new client?"

Micki shot her uncle a regretful glance. "Not right away. My schedule's booked. Armando's got the United Way shoot coming up and he made me promise I'd be there myself. And until the Post backs off the gossip and innuendo on Roper, I'm busy 24/7."

Uncle Yank rolled his eyes. "Hire him a hooker and book a photographer to take pictures of him in the act," he muttered. "Sophie?" Uncle Yank asked.

She spread her hands wide, also indicating there wasn't much she could do. "My schedule's pretty tight, too. Besides I'm not sure I can deal with another dumb jock ogling my boobs and trying to get into my pants while I'm attempting to book him for charity work."

"You need to lighten up," Micki said, offering her usual refrain. "You're such a stick in the mud, it's no wonder you haven't had a decent date in ages." She ribbed her sister and Annabelle awaited the fallout.

Sophie scowled. "I've dated plenty. Just not someone who rather smack another guy's behind than a woman's."

Micki let out an exaggerated sigh. "There's no way I'll ever buy that those intellectual types you go for do anything for you," she said as the two sisters launched into their typical bickering.

"Would you two save the personal stuff for after work?" Annabelle asked.

"Annie's right." The sound of the gavel broke the argument. "No sex talk in the boardroom," Yank said, his face beet-red as it always was when his nieces got on a roll.

The problem was, the girls never took him seriously. Not about the opposite sex, anyway. How could they when he'd never married and never tried to hide his string of women from them as they'd grown up?

From the time they'd moved in with their bachelor uncle, he'd used them to pick up women-until Lola had gotten wind of his chick-magnet scheme and taken over, joining them on trips to the park, the mall, and the playground, making them appear to be one big happy family. And putting a serious dent in Uncle Yank's social life in the process. The sisters loved Lola as their surrogate mom and Uncle Yank couldn't function a day in his life without her. He was just too stubborn to see how much he needed and loved her, too.

"Lola and I can handle whatever business comes up until Micki and Sophie's schedules clear," Annabelle said, returning them to the discussion at hand.

"But I think we should consider bringing in new publicists," Micki said. "We've discussed expanding before and I think we're getting close to having no choice."

Sophie and Annabelle murmured in agreement. They were getting too successful to handle everything themselves.

"We'll talk about it," Yank promised.

"Next meeting?" Annabelle insisted, knowing he'd avoid it otherwise. She would, too, for much the same reasons. Annabelle hated to lose the family atmosphere that now dominated The Hot Zone.

"Next meeting," he agreed. "You always did know how to lead this group," Uncle Yank said, chuckling.

"That's my job." Annabelle forced a laugh but his words sobered her as the past came back all too clearly, Little did Uncle Yank know, she'd had to take on the role of leader and peacekeeper.

As the oldest sibling when their parents died, the fear of being separated from her sisters lived in Annabelle's heart. She was the only one who'd heard the social worker's threat to the lawyer. If Uncle Yank, the bachelor, balked at taking the girls or if he screwed up in any way, they'd end up in foster care. Nobody would have wanted to adopt kids their age, especially all three of them. Keeping the family together had become Annabelle's obsession. So any time Sophie and Micki argued, those words came back to haunt Annabelle.

"So, on to discussing the potential new client?" Lola asked.

Annabelle was grateful for the subject change. "Who?" she asked.

Sophie and Micki exchanged looks, a sure sign they already knew.

"Brandon Vaughn," Micki said, practically jumping out of her seat to be the first to tell.

"The Heisman winner and Dallas's franchise player until he blew out his knee," Sophie said, proud of her ability to spout from memory.

"A Hall of Famer and Uncle Yank's prize client until the guy bailed on him after his injury," Lola continued to enlighten them.

As if Annabelle could forget. She'd been away at school at the time of his departure. But that hadn't been the end of Brandon Vaughn.

"We were introduced at a charity event a few years ago," Annabelle murmured aloud. His blue eyes were mesmerizing and when he'd looked at her, it was as if no other woman existed. Not even the bimbo on his arm.

He'd also carried a cocky air, the one that informed her I know you want me, baby, and every other woman in the room does, too. Unfortunately he was the exact kind of man that drew Annabelle the most. She admired his kind of sexy self-confidence. Too bad it was always her undoing.

As were his looks. Silky black hair, chiseled features and he filled out his tuxedo like no man she'd seen before or since. She remembered thinking it was a good thing he was no longer involved with her uncle or she'd be in big trouble. Just the very thought of him caused swells of anticipation and lust to flow through Annabelle's veins like honey. And oh how she loved the silken smooth taste of honey, she thought.

Annabelle swallowed hard. "What does Vaughn want after all this time?"

Her uncle let out a low, threatening growl. "It'd better be to kiss my ass. The only reason I'm even seeing him is that Lola here insisted I take the appointment." He jerked his pencil Lola's way.

"Rumor has it his ex-wife was calling the shots in the old days." As usual, Micki offered the voice of reason and understanding, defending the ball player no matter what.

"I've met the man," Annabelle said. His rugged features and come-hither grin were now firmly in her mind again. "And somehow I can't imagine any woman pulling him around by his ba-er, jock strap," she said, catching sight of Uncle Yank's scowl and moderating her choice of words accordingly. "He's a jock through and through."

Sophie nodded. "Which makes him good for one thing only."

"Amen," Annabelle said, knowing exactly what her sister meant. She'd been drawn to Vaughn back then, and considering the sexual drought she'd been in for the last six months-eight if she counted the dwindling days of Randy Dalton's interest-Annabelle found herself longing for that one particular thing Brandon Vaughn had to offer.

"How soon did you two say you could wrap up your current clients?" she asked her sisters, hopefully. She had no desire to take on Uncle Yank's newest client alone.

Sophie and Micki eyed each other knowingly, a conspiratorial glimmer in each of their eyes. "We didn't," they said at the same time.

Annabelle had seen that glimmer when they were kids. She'd seen it again at the mention of Vaughn's name. It wasn't often those two grouped together, but when they did, Annabelle was usually the target.

"Neither of us is free now. And we won't be for a while." This from Sophie.

"A long while," Micki added.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. It figured. For once, and at her expense, the bickering duo decided to agree.

BRANDON VAUGHN HATED EATING crow. He hated admitting defeat even more. So as he stood outside The Hot Zone offices for his meeting with Yank Morgan, he was in a stinking foul mood, even if seeing the old man was exactly what he needed to set right both the past and his future.

"Mr. Morgan will see you now." Lola, the same assistant Yank had had since the old days, gestured toward the closed office door.

Her assessing brown-eyed gaze followed him as he rose from his seat. "You look good, Brandon." She was one of the few people other than his parents to call him by his first name.

"Not that you couldn't stand to get some more sleep, judging from those dark circles under your eyes, but you're still a handsome devil," she said with a warm smile and a wink.

Obviously she didn't hold a grudge over his leaving all those years ago, but Vaughn doubted Yank felt the same.

"You're looking mighty fine yourself, honey" In fact, though likely somewhere in her mid- to late-fifties, Lola didn't look a day over forty. "I hope the old man's treating you right?"

Lola shrugged. "He hasn't changed a bit."

Vaughn accepted her cryptic answer. He'd learned if he didn't pry into other people's lives, they tended to leave his secrets alone.

But obviously Yank still didn't see the prize that was right in front of him, and as Vaughn passed Lola's desk, he couldn't help but pause. "Maybe if you loosened things up around here, Yank would do the same." He tugged playfully on the collar of her blouse.

"You may have a point." Lola's eyes narrowed, as she mulled over his words. "The girls have been telling me the same thing."

The girls. Wrong damn word, Vaughn thought. Yank's nieces were all women. Three beautiful women, but he'd only be willing to work with two of them. Micki knew her way around a locker room like any guy, and Sophia was an expert with numbers and PR. Both enjoyed stellar reputations in the business. So did Annabelle, but he had his reasons for not wanting to work with Yank's oldest niece.

The blond-haired, blue-eyed, sexpot was hoc stuff. She made headlines as often as he had and her tendency to appear more like a groupie than a professional made her bad business in Vaughn's mind. As was getting involved with Yank's niece. And if he worked alongside her, he'd be tempted to do just that.

He'd met Annabelle once before when she'd been on the arm of her client of the moment. Their eyes had met, held and the hit had been harder than any he'd taken in the field. He'd known then just as he did now, Annabelle Jordan meant trouble.

Without warning the intercom buzzed. Lola pressed the button and Yank roared, "Well, is that son of a bitch coming in or is he gonna make me wait until I'm old and gray?"

"You're already gray," Lola shot back, then glanced at Vaughn and spoke, lowering her voice. "No need to tell him he's already a crotchety old coot" she said laughing. "I guess he's ready to see you, Brandon."

Vaughn treated Lola to one of his cocky grins. Nobody had ever seen him sweat and he refused to start now. Even if he'd rather deal with the physical agony of destroying his knee again than face the old man.

Vaughn strode inside. Yank Morgan looked as imposing as Vaughn remembered him, with just a few extra gray hairs sprinkling his wild hair and thick beard.

"Hey, Pop," Vaughn said, using the nickname he'd adopted for Yank.

The other man scowled. "Pop's reserved for family and friends. Not lowlife, back-stabbing-"

Vaughn rolled his eyes. Plenty of players left their agents and moved on. It was a fact of the business. "I don't blame you for being pissed, but lowlife snake? You can do better than that," he said, pushing Yank's buttons on purpose. At least this way the old guy would get it all out of his system and they could move forward.

"How about damn stupid, dumb-ass jock who let a woman lead him around by his-"

"That'll do," Vaughn muttered. The cold, hard truth still hurt. "Now are you going to forgive me or do I turn around and walk out the door for good?"