Hot Stuff

They entered the study and Estelle clicked the door closed politely, but her squared shoulders and heavy breathing spoke another story completely.

She appraised him, her gaze raking the length of his European suit. 'Just what is all over you?' she asked, brushing at his lapels with her hand.

He glanced down. 'Hair,' he muttered.

'Cat hair,' Annabelle added with a cheery smile.

Her cat had decided she liked his room best. He'd laid his suit out on the bed and when he'd returned from his shower, she was curled into a ball on top of the dark jacket. He'd tried to brush it off with no luck. Just why the animal had decided to make him her best friend, he had no idea.

'Well you could have made sure you were lint free before coming out for the evening. We have important guests ' his mother reminded him.

As if he didn't know. As if he really cared. Despite not being thrilled with the influx of animals in his home, he had to admit he didn't mind riling his mother a bit more and he shot Annabelle an amused glance. His coconspirator grinned back.

At the same moment, Vaughn realized her black dress was lint free, yet she'd had the dog and the rabbit staying in her room. 'How'd you manage to keep clean?'

'Scotch tape. But you were in such a rush to leave, I didn't have a chance to share the trick with you.'

His rush had actually been to get into a room with a crowd so he wouldn't rip off her dress and finish what they'd started this morning.

Estelle cleared her throat. 'If you two wouldn't mind paying attention?'

They both glanced her way. 'What's going on?' Vaughn asked his mother.

She folded her hands together. 'You both lied to me. Annabelle Jordan isn't an old friend opening a hotel in New York. She's your publicist.' She spat the word as if it were poison.

Was that all? Vaughn shook his head laughing. He'd tried to keep Annabelle's profession a secret only because he didn't want to be perceived as manipulating the public for his own selfish purposes.

As far as he was concerned, his mother had no reason to question who or what Annabelle was to him. She only cared now because somehow, she perceived herself as an affected or wounded party.

'Mrs. Vaughn,' Annabelle began, 'I'm-'

'I'm handling this,' he said, interrupting whatever Annabelle had been about to say. 'I hired Annabelle to help with a few PR issues surrounding the lodge. What's wrong with that?'

Estelle straightened her linen suit jacket. 'Did you also ask her to go digging into your past? To bring up bad memories? To humiliate your father when all the trustees would be around?'

Beside him, he felt Annabelle stiffen. Still unsure what was going on, his skin began to tingle uncomfortably, but he ignored his mother's accusations and addressed the one thing he did know for certain. 'I don't make any decisions in my life based around what you or Theodore want.'

On the other hand, he did know better than to publicize much about his past and the only memories his father would consider bad ones involved academics. 'What's going on?' he asked.

'The evening news ran a feature on your lodge.'

'It was planned-'

Again, he cut Annabelle off, this time with a wave of his hand and turned to his mother. 'You already know the lodge is a done deal.'

She sighed. 'You know I hate it when you're deliberately obtuse.' She leaned over and picked the television and VCR remotes off the table. A few seconds later, she had a tape running of the local cable news.

The reporter began with the morning's vandalism and some of the other difficulties plaguing the lodge and then segued into an actual plea to people with reservations to hang on and trust in football legend Brandon Vaughn, 'a man invested in the next generation.'

He shot a glance at Annabelle, who was accepting being shut up too easily. She merely batted her lashes and shrugged, but the proud smile on her lips told him that she'd come up with that particular theme for the lodge. Her satisfaction was obvious from the glow in her cheeks and damned if a part of him didn't share her pride.

He glanced at the television. So far the reporter hadn't come up with anything to upset his mother beyond the usual. 'This is it,' Estelle said and raised the volume a notch.

'Although unreachable for comment, we were able to interview Vaughn's publicist Annabelle Jordan, who said her client, quote 'remembers what it's like to be a kid' unquote.'

So far so good, and Vaughn folded his arms over his chest and waited, pushing aside the uneasy feeling creeping over him that warned him there had to be more.

'Following a suggestion from Ms. Jordan, we made contact with Mrs. Peabody, a longtime teacher at the Greenlawn High School for interpretation.' As Vaughn gritted his teeth, the camera panned to the high school where his old white-haired teacher stood on the lawn, the American flag waving in the background.

'Brandon is our star, our shining star,' she said proudly, taking Vaughn off guard. 'But he struggled mightily while here and if you think my recollection's faulty, school records speak for themselves. He's probably determined to open his lodge so he can bring kids with similar issues to a fun environment where they can also supplement their learning. I admire him, I surely do.'

Estelle flipped off the television and stood staring at both Vaughn and Annabelle. Her cheeks were flushed pink with the embarrassment he remembered only too well from every parent-teacher conference she'd ever attended.

His stomach churned at having disappointed her again, at coming up short in his parents' estimation, until he reminded himself he wasn't that failing kid. He was an accomplished adult and that news report had been a positive one.

One that, for more personal reasons, he'd preferred hadn't aired, and he glanced at the source. Annabelle stood beside him, tapping her foot, and he figured she was waiting for the fallout. But with the afternoon behind him and plenty of time to think, he'd already come to the conclusion he wasn't being fair to her. He understood that and would deal with her and the repercussions later tonight.

Right now he had another problem. 'And what exactly is wrong with truthful reporting?' he asked Estelle.

Before she could answer, a knock sounded at the door and Vaughn's father walked inside. 'The guests are beginning to ask if anything's amiss. Are you ready to return?' he asked his wife, ignoring both Vaughn and Annabelle.

'Hello, Dad.'

Theodore inclined his head. 'I hope you're prepared to address the issues you stirred up today.' Polite niceties were obviously too much to ask when he'd been disappointed again.

Well if his parents couldn't be polite, Vaughn damn well could. 'I'd like you to meet my publicist, Annabelle Jordan. Annabelle, this is Theodore Vaughn.'

'Professor Theodore Vaughn,' his father said as he extended his hand toward Annabelle.

'A pleasure, Professor.' Smiling, she shook his hand. 'I'd be happy to answer any questions about the news piece, though frankly I thought they did a spectacular job portraying Vaughn as both a star and a compassionate human being doing his best to help others. I'm certain this will be picked up by the other networks and help sustain reservations.'

'Other networks?' Theodore said, his jaw sagging. 'That's…that's- You don't say.' Obviously unhappy, he turned as pale as his beige shirt.

For the first time in recent memory, Vaughn's father was speechless and he had Annabelle to thank.

'Well now you know how we feel, not that it will make any difference to you. It never does.' Estelle shook her head and walked over to her husband, sighing as she crossed the room.

They turned to leave, but Theodore glanced back over his shoulder. 'Brandon, please try to steer the conversation away from the interview. I'm certain the board members will overlook your academic background in favor of your other skills.'

As usual, other, meaning his athletic ability, was not meant in a positive sense. Still Vaughn didn't miss the irony. His parents, who'd always disdained his sport, now begged him to take a coaching position because it would help their standing.

Well it was too damn bad. 'I'm not taking the job,' Vaughn said clearly.

But his parents were out the door, heads together, plotting which person deserved their attention next.