"Do you really think you can play with Annabelle and Brandon's lives?" she asked as Yank passed by her desk, treating her to a wink that never failed to send swirling spirals of warmth through her body.
He paused. "I'm not playing. I'm deadly serious. All three of those girls have been messing up their love lives and I'm sick of watching from the sidelines."
"Look who's talking," she muttered. "They're young. They're entitled to make mistakes. What's your excuse?" she asked him.
He rolled his eyes and as usual ignored her jibe. "Annabelle's picked real losers and because of that, she wouldn't know a decent man if he bit her in the ass."
"And suddenly Brandon Vaughn's a decent man? Just yesterday you called him a lowlife, blood-sucking snake."
He chuckled. "Any man with the balls to grovel is okay in my book. I missed the kid. Besides he and Annie have a lot in common. More than either of them know," he said.
"Besides picking losers?" Lola asked wryly.
"Yep. You got tomorrow's schedule?" he asked her.
Having anticipated his request, she picked up a sheet of paper she'd printed earlier. She let it dangle between her fingertips, unsure of whether to hand him the page or-
"Read it to me, will you?"
She sighed, wondering when he'd admit to having a problem. He'd either have to take himself to a doctor or she'd be forced to make the appointment for him.
"You have your weekly breakfast with Spence Atkins, a conference call with O'Keefe and Sophie regarding Randy Dalton, and then, nothing."
She hesitated, then decided to assert her authority and if he didn't like it, tough luck. "I was thinking Dr. Lenkowitz could fit you in for that eye exam you canceled last month. You really shouldn't put it off any longer."
Yank scowled, the frown doing nothing to detract from his good looks. "I'm fine and since I have the afternoon off, I'd rather go to the track than waste time sitting 'round with blurry eyes waiting for him to use those machines on me."
She raised the newspaper from the desk and asked, "Which paper am I holding?"
She knew good and well he couldn't tell if it was the Post or the News without moving closer and she dropped the section back to the table before he could answer. "I'm making an appointment. I'll let you know when it is," she informed him.
"Damned bossy woman," he muttered.
"Then find one who isn't," she said, rising from her desk.
He stormed back into his office and shut the door behind him, ignoring her.
She suppressed a smile, wondering if he knew how predictable he'd become. He counted on her enough that he'd never fire her. If she wanted out, she'd have to quit.
The thought made her queasy. Until now, she'd been content to remain at The Hot Zone with Yank. Especially since he'd mellowed, his days of dating different women every night behind him. Her feelings for the man ran deep or she wouldn't have put up with him on any level for all these years.
Contrary to what the girls' thought, she and Yank had had their affair, right before the girls' parents had died and left them with their bachelor uncle. Lola had hoped that, over time, he would come to see her as more than his assistant or even another woman he'd taken to bed. Then the girls had arrived and the passion of their early affair had given way to the priority of settling his nieces and comforting their grief. He 'd needed her for that and she 'd fallen in love with the three little girls. She'd already been head over heels for Yank Morgan.
Unfortunately, becoming an instant parent had scared Yank, so much so that instead of settling more, he'd gone wild. He'd been the doting uncle by day, but moved from one willing female to the next by night-all in the hopes of proving to himself that just because he'd become the girls' guardian, his lifestyle didn't have to change.
Lola had put a quick end to his using the girls as chick-magnets by turning them into a family. For the children, her scheme had worked. They'd had as normal an upbringing as possible with Yank as their surrogate father. But Lola had put her own life on hold to help him. She'd done so without being asked and she'd requested nothing in return.
She liked to think that if not for the girls needing a female influence in their lives, she'd have long since moved on from Yank Morgan and his unwillingness to commit. It was too late to really know. But it wasn't too late to acknowledge the ever growing restlessness she was feeling. The lack of comfort in the routine she used to love. And she was too smart not to understand why.
The girls were grown women and didn't need either of them the way they used to. Although Yank was certainly no longer the youthful prize he once was, it hadn't changed her feelings one bit. Though the girls didn't yet realize he was having vision problems, Lola did. She'd have no difficulty remaining by his side throughout whatever life had in store, but not with things the way they were now.
She wanted more from Yank Morgan than he'd given thus far, or for the sake of her self-esteem and her future, she'd have no choice but to walk out on the man once and for all.
ANNABELLE WAITED for Vaughn to pick her up and thought longingly of her car locked in the New York City parking garage below her building. It wasn't that she loved the little sports car. She'd bought it in a fit of pique, when she'd realized her then twenty-nine-year-old body couldn't compete with Randy's eighteen-year-old girlfriend's. It was the freedom the car represented that she would miss.
She liked being in charge of her own destiny and being stuck up in Greenlawn with no means of escape frazzled her already shot nerves. Nerves that were on edge for one reason only-Brandon Vaughn, his sexy gaze, hot body, and the disdain she sensed smoldering just below the surface.
She'd been standing outside her uncle's office and she'd overheard him ask for Sophie, then Micki. He'd all but begged for anyone but her, actually. He was settling for her as his publicist and she resented the implication that she wasn't as good as her sisters.
She didn't know what the jock had against her, but she planned to do the best damn job she could and then hightail it out of the small town. Because despite it all, he was just the kind of macho ladies' man who could seduce her body and wreak havoc with her heart. But considering he was pushing her away as hard as she was running, they ought to survive their time together just fine.
A black Lincoln Navigator SUV pulled to a stop and Vaughn stepped out. Shades covered his eyes but she could sense him staring at her as he strode around the back to help with her bags. Though it was early summer and she expected to be hot, the sizzling spike in her body temperature had nothing to do with weather and everything to do with the man staring at her from behind his dark lenses.
Sammy, the aging doorman in her building, attempted to assist with the luggage, bending over, then grabbing his back as if he'd pulled a muscle. Annabelle groaned. He loved this charade, faking an injury in a bid for a pity tip.
"I can handle it," Vaughn said, lightly slapping the older man on the shoulder. "The knee's bad but you wouldn't want me to feel like a complete has-been by helping, would you?"
"You're as good as your reputation, Mr. Vaughn," Sammy said, obviously recognizing him.
Annabelle was used to being with self-absorbed stars and Vaughn's attempt to use his own injury as an excuse to protect Sammy's pride was so unexpected, a suspicious tingling warmth rose in her chest.
Vaughn palmed a ten-spot into Sammy's hand, falling right into the old man's con. Annabelle shrugged. She wasn't about to ruin Sammy's fun.
As the doorman walked off, Vaughn took one look at the animal bag hanging from her shoulder, and slid his glasses down on his nose. "No frigging way."
Annabelle grit her teeth. "I am not leaving him behind."
"You're only going to be gone a few days. Isn't there a neighbor who can take it?" he asked, looking pained at the thought of bringing her pet along.