"Wine?" she asked.

He nodded. "Why not."

She added to his glass, then leaned forward in her seat. "So you've been out running."

He ran a hand through his windblown hair. "That obvious?"

She shrugged. "Only to someone who's looking." Her heavy-lidded gaze met his and held, until he couldn't mistake her meaning.

He had to laugh. "I need to ask you something."

"If I can ask a question in return, I'm more than happy to answer."

He nodded. "Are you always this direct? Sexually I mean."

She steepled her fingers and paused in thought. "I suppose that depends. I generally say what I think. I can't see any sense in hiding my feelings. As for what's going on between us, I'm focused on two things."

"And those are?"

"One," she said, raising a finger. "I need your cooperation to fix the problems with the lodge and so far you're not giving me any, and two," she said, raising a second finger, "I believe in bringing things out into the open and our attraction is there whether either one of us likes it or not. So instead of letting it get in the way of work, I choose to acknowledge and deal with it, so we can move forward."

He blinked, staring at her in amazement. "Are you saying you got the attraction out of your system and can move on?" Because he sure as hell wasn't able to do any such thing, no matter how badly he wanted to.

"I said move forward." She emphasized her point with a shake of her head that had her ponytail falling over the shoulder of yet another of those jerseys she favored.

He stabbed his steak and let the fork remain. It was one thing to acknowledge the attraction, another to contemplate doing anything more about it. Moving on seemed smartest. Safest. He wasn't sure what she meant with her semantics, but she was directing the conversation and he decided to see where she was headed.

"So while we're eating, I thought we could deal with my first point and talk business."

She'd obviously decided to drop the more heated subject and he exhaled a hard sigh of relief. The knot in his stomach eased, as did the tension lodged inside him.

He cut into the steak and began eating. "Delicious," he said, between bites.

"I'll let the cook know." She spoke with laughter in her voice but he couldn't mistake the glow of pleasure in her cheeks or the warmth in her eyes at his compliment.

Just watching her, his skin flushed hot with wanting.

"Tell me about your reasons for building this lodge. I'm sure it has something to do with the kids you want to bring in for the summer. And I already know you volunteer at, the high school. So, what gives?" she prodded and not too subtly, either.

Her pointed questions froze everything that had been thawing inside him. He was drawn to her yes, but he didn't trust her. Not enough to divulge his deepest secret and thus expose his biggest fear-that no woman would ever love the real Brandon Vaughn. The man beneath the trophies, money and rings.

"I thought we were going to talk business." He cleared his throat before continuing. "My reasons for the lodge are personal."

"So you say." Leaning back in her seat, she drained the last of her drink. "But I answered your question and you said you'd answer mine," she reminded him.

Her eyes had glazed with the effect of the wine. Her deep vee-neck plunged a bit too low, revealing soft white skin and plump cleavage he'd give anything to taste. Her allure had never been more potent.

Too bad he was about to douse the flame. "As I recall, I said you could ask. I never agreed to answer."

Dismay flickered in her eyes but she covered it with a casual wave of her hand. "You disappoint me, Vaughn."

"I’ll have to live with that." But he suspected it wouldn't be as easy as he claimed. He didn't like coming up short with her and he wasn't sure why.

"Just don't underestimate my determination," she warned him. "In the meantime, tell me more about this house."

At least that answer he could give her.

She rose and began collecting dirty plates.

"Leave them. The cleaning lady comes in the morning." He stopped her, catching her wrist in his hand. The petite feel took him off guard. For a woman so sure of herself, she seemed fragile in his grasp.

He wondered if he'd have to be gentle with her when they made love, then discounted the notion. She was stronger than she looked and tough as nails. And he was an idiot even thinking about having sex with this woman.

He quickly released her. "I bought this place because it fit my needs," he said, answering her question.

She lowered herself back into her seat. "So you said. But it's a contradiction. You say you need space and you buy a huge house, yet you only open and live in a fraction of it."

"So? It's far enough from the residential sections of town to give me the privacy I want."

"Mmm. I guess that makes sense."

He narrowed his gaze. "You don't sound convinced."

She pursed her lips in thought. "Well when your mother was here earlier, I picked up on some of what you two were saying. And the dynamics were pretty obvious."

He clenched his jaw tight, hating any conversation that involved his mother or father. He'd long since come to terms with the man he'd become or so he thought until thoughts of how his parents viewed him resurfaced.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked Annabelle.

"I think you came home to show your parents how good you've done in your life."

"When did you become a psychiatrist?"

She shrugged. "A publicist has to be good at reading people and dissecting situations. And right now I sense I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You're just pushing too much. As you've seen for yourself, my parents don't think I've accomplished a damn thing with my life, so hell yes, 1 wanted to show them a thing or two."

"And buying this monstrosity accomplished that?"

"No," he admitted. "It just brought me back to all the crap I left behind." He'd intended to give her a short, one-sentence explanation so she'd back off. Instead he'd given her more insight into himself than he allowed most people.

"Then why stay?" she asked, still prodding for answers.

"Because this town is my home," he bit out.

She ran her tongue over her lower lip. "Now that I can understand." She hesitated, then drew a long, deep breath, causing her chest to rise and fall.

Though he watched and his body responded, he held his own, wanting her to explain. That sexual tension she'd stopped discussing remained alive and smoldering just below the surface. "How so?"

"You and Uncle Yank are close, or at least you once were. So you must know he took us in when my parents died." Quivering emotion laced her voice.

Vaughn reacted without thinking. One minute they were adversaries, the next he reached across the table and grasped her hand in his. "I'm sorry about your folks."

She nodded in gratitude. "Thanks."

"You were lucky to have Yank."

"Yeah we were." She spoke softly. "But for a while I wasn't even sure he'd take us in. I was so afraid the three of us would be separated and-" She paused and hiccuped, an obvious attempt to swallow her emotions. "Anyway, my point is, I can relate to the need for that feeling of home. But home isn't the same as family, you know?"

A low growl rumbled deep in his throat. "Not everyone can have Ozzie and Harriet parents."

"And I just told you I didn't have any parents. I'm just saying that for whatever reason, you and your folks don't connect. But you feel that connection to this town anyway. So much so that the lodge is the home this house will never be."

She understood him and that scared him even more than the sizzling kiss. "Your point?" he said too gruffly.

"I'd like you to let me use that emotional connection to this town in order to reach out to the people, and not just those around here. People in Greenlawn already love Brandon Vaughn. But I'd like to reach your extended public. The people you want to come and vacation at your lodge." She leaned closer. "Let them see the man inside the athlete and want to help you as much as you want to help the kids."

She squeezed his hand tight and he glanced down. He'd almost forgotten they sat hand in hand, making a personal connection.

There was now a subtle understanding between them. He drew a deep breath. "I'll think about it." He told himself he was responding to her business sense.

Still he hated the idea of exposing something he did from the heart and using it as a media ploy. Then again, he wasn't stupid. If he wanted the summer camp to become a reality, he needed the funding the winter lodge guests would provide. That was, after all, the reason he'd hired Annabelle in the first place.

Their hands remained intertwined. Her gaze met his, soft and understanding. Nothing businesslike in her expression or in the depths of those blue eyes now. This time if he acted on impulse and kissed her again, more than just sexual desire would be at work. At the moment he didn't care.

A loud knock sounded at the back door of the kitchen. Vaughn turned and glanced over. A familiar figure stood outside, one of his workmen who often came by uninvited. "I wonder what he wants."

"Who?"

He jerked a head toward the back entrance. "Roy Murray. My electrical foreman."

"Why doesn't he use the front door?"

He rolled his eyes. "He decided back doors are reserved for friends, and according to him, that's what we are. But he really does mean well." Vaughn rose and opened the door.

His foreman stood there in his jeans and white work shirt, tool belt on and a grin on his face. Vaughn caught sight of his son behind him.