“Twins?" Vaughn asked but he was afraid he already knew what Yank meant.

"Urn, juggs, boobs, breasts, for God's sake," Yank muttered. "This is my niece so can we keep it clean?"

Vaughn rolled his eyes. He'd seen Annabelle dressed for big-time events and knew exactly what her uncle meant. "I'm guessing she's gone out with a client, so just give me the address, okay?"

He remained calm because he knew better than to think Annabelle would go out with another guy so soon after leaving him. But that didn't mean he liked her attending anything with another man, especially with her twins on display.

Yank handed him a sheet of paper with the address. "Go get her, son."

Vaughn choked up. He'd waited years to have Yank call him that again.

Yank pulled him into a bear hug and when Vaughn stepped back, he grabbed Yank's arm. "I love you, Pops, and I want you to enjoy your life, not sit around alone at night feeling sorry for yourself. So if I'm going to go after Annabelle, you'd better go after Lola."

Yank shook his head. "I had my chance years ago and I blew it."

"Stubborn old man. I'll deal with you later," Vaughn promised. "Right now I have a lady to rescue."

And that lady had captured not just his heart but everything Vaughn was.

As he headed back for his car, he replayed his talk with Yank in his mind, one part in particular. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he recalled Yank telling him that Annabelle had defended him to her uncle.

Vaughn couldn't get over that fact. She'd told Yank she'd broken up with him when it was completely untrue. Yeah she'd left him in Greenlawn, but he knew damn well it was because she wanted to avoid an awkward goodbye, because she also knew he wouldn't be asking her to stay. At the time she'd have been right. Yet knowing Yank would skin him alive if he knew Vaughn had hurt her, Annabelle had looked out for his relationship with her uncle anyway.

Vaughn hadn't been looking for proof of her love or commitment to him. He'd come to New York without either and he would have laid his soul bare for her and risked all the protective barriers he'd spent years erecting on pure hope alone. He still planned to do just that, only now he had some proof that Annabelle loved him as much as he loved her.

He just hoped love was enough and that he hadn't finally, irrevocably pushed her away for good.

KEEPING A FAKE SMILE pasted on her face was getting more difficult by the minute. The charity event wasn't the problem. Annabelle liked mingling with other industry professionals. She enjoyed meeting the athletes, models and actresses also attending the event. She also liked the fact that Oakley sportswear and sunglasses was sponsoring such a good cause- the Lighthouse Foundation. And she was definitely enjoying the champagne punch. Unfortunately it was her client, Russell Bruno, who had her on edge.

The man had huge teeth-made brighter thanks to the contrast with his black tuxedo jacket-a huge smile and an even bigger ego. To make matters worse, he also had large, groping hands and he liked to settle his palm on her ass. Clearly the man didn't understand the term professional association. She was tired of it and tired of him. So tired she was ready to go home.

Unfortunately she'd let Russ, as he liked to be called, pick her up from The Hot Zone and now she was stuck here until he was ready to leave. But she was loathe to call his attention to her since he was finally, blessedly involved in conversation with someone else. A pretty brunette soap opera actress who was obviously impressed with his physique and pretty-boy face.

Annabelle motioned to the bartender and he refilled her punch but before she could take a sip, she yawned and a loud sound escaped from the back of her throat by mistake.

Russ turned around fast. "Oh, I’ve been ignoring my date." His attention back on Annabelle, he shot a regretful glance at the other woman by his side.

"Not a problem for me," Annabelle muttered.

Russ chuckled clearly not taking her seriously. "I get carried away telling the story of how I was called up from the Minors, but I'm back now," he promised: Annabelle and followed up his comment with a bold slide of his wandering palm from her back to her bottom.

His other female companion took off in a huff.

Russ let out an exaggerated exhale of relief. "I thought she'd never leave. I'm so sorry, sugar."

Annabelle gritted her teeth but kept a smile for appearances. First thing tomorrow she was informing her sisters that this stud muffin was officially Annabelle's ex-client and could be shuffled to the new PR person The Hot Zone had yet to hire.

In the meantime, he was still her problem. "Russ, either you take your hand off my ass or I break your arm. The choice is yours," she said with saccharine sweetness.

"You heard the lady, Bruno."

Uh-oh. Annabelle knew that voice as well as she knew her own. Her heart soared but she immediately squelched the emotion, reminding herself she had no idea why he was here.

"Brandon Vaughn, well I'll be damned!" Russ quickly removed his hand and extended it so he could greet the football legend.

But a quick glance at Vaughn's strained expression and Annabelle knew this wouldn't be an easy, friendly how do you do. "Russell Bruno meet Brandon Vaughn."

She performed the perfunctory introductions but doubted it would make Vaughn soften.

She was right.

He ignored Bruno and his outstretched hand. "Time to go home, Annie."

She raised an eyebrow. Going home, and with Vaughn at that, seemed like the best idea she'd heard all night. However she wasn't about to let him show up out of nowhere and call the shots as if he owned her. Especially after he'd been silent and out of her life for the last week.

He certainly knew how to make a re-entrance. Wearing denim jeans, a black T-shirt and sport jacket, he was completely underdressed compared to the tuxedoed men surrounding them. Still he was the sexiest, most gorgeous sight Annabelle had ever seen.

He was also royally ticked off.

Beside her, Russ began to sweat and he glared at Annabelle. "I thought you came with me. I mean if I'd known she was with you, man, I never, not even as a professional courtesy, which this date was. Not that it was a date at all," he said, rambling.

"Do you always park your hand on a lady's ass, Russ? Or is it just your way of finding common ground?" Vaughn asked.

Annabelle stifled a laugh.

"I've really got to get going." Russ glanced at Vaughn. "Good to meet you, man." He took off at a near run, never looking back.

Annabelle lifted her eyes toward the chandelier on the ceiling. "Another man who backs off at the mere sight of Brandon Vaughn," she said in disgust. "What am I-back in Greenlawn?"

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.

They stepped out of the elevator and she stopped at the second door on the right.

"Tell me one thing," she said as she turned the key in the lock, then glanced over her shoulder at him. "What the hell gives you the right to act as if you have any rights over me at all?"

He leaned an arm against the wall beside her. From his perspective he had a clear view between her breasts, inside her dress. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized how badly he wanted what she'd just said. The right to claim her, all of her, as his own. "Nothing gives me that right. Not a damn thing. At least not yet but I'm hoping by the time I'm through talking, you'll give me that and more."