Hot Item

by Carly Phillips

  Riley held on to the support rope as the big man released the pulley and raised them into the air. With each passing second, they left safety and terra firma farther and farther behind.

  His heart raced, much as it did after throwing a successful touchdown pass in the Super Bowl. “Isn’t this freaking awesome?”

  Sophie laughed, and he heard the sheer terror shaking her voice.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him. “Relax and enjoy,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  He stroked the side of her head, caressing the throbbing pulse point in her temple. “I’m proud of you,” he told her. Proud of her determination, spirit and courage, even if it was wavering now.

  “My parents died in a plane crash.”

  He took the words like a punch in the gut. Though he knew she’d been orphaned, he hadn’t known the details.

  Though Spencer had abandoned him, Riley had always possessed the knowledge that his father was alive. For a while he’d lived for the opportunity to make Spencer proud. Even when he’d given up on ever having a relationship with the man, he’d known Spencer was living somewhere in this world. Until now, he would never have believed the thought would bring any sort of comfort. He realized now, it had.

  He wanted to be the one to help Sophie work through some of the effects of her tragic loss. “So what’s it feel like to let go?”

  “Good question.” Sophie looked over the vast ocean, the smattering of tiny-looking homes and the Southern landscape, so different from home.

  Up in the air, away from the land, her life and her problems seemed very far away. Riley was her only anchor and she leaned into him, giving him her trust as completely as she’d given him her body last night.

  She’d never have believed she could throw caution away so easily or enjoy it so much. Now that she had, she allowed herself to embrace the sensation if only for the moment. “I feel free,” she called out, suddenly giddy with laughter.

  The scary part was that she owed it to this man who, like everyone else in her life, would soon be gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT parasailing would be almost as intimate as sex? By the time they returned to the house, Sophie was wound up both physically and emotionally. Arousal thrummed through her body, due in large part to the rush of adrenaline from her activity. She recalled reading about the effect of adrenaline on the nervous system. It was no surprise she couldn’t wait to wrap her arms around Riley’s neck and her legs around his waist.

  She followed him into the house, staring hungrily at his tanned legs and powerful muscles flexing beneath his damp, sand-caked T-shirt. She swallowed hard. Then again, that throbbing, pulsing need just might have more to do with the man himself than with her parasailing adventure.

  She shut the door to the house behind her and began to methodically take off her clothes so as not to make a huge, sandy mess all over their borrowed home. When she was through, she was clad only in her bikini.

  Halfway through the large living room that led to the master bedroom and its spacious shower, Riley turned to Sophie. Even from a distance, she felt the heat in his stare and the welcoming warmth in his expression. Her heart beat more rapidly in her chest and flutters took up residence in her stomach.

  He crooked his finger and no words were necessary to clarify his meaning. She sprinted forward, meeting him halfway.

  He grabbed her around the waist, his big hands branding her bare skin with their heated touch at the same time his lips came down hard on hers. This was what she’d been burning for all afternoon and she threaded her fingers through his windblown hair, ready to pull him into an embrace that went deeper than a kiss. He was faster, easing her forward then lifting her onto her tiptoes so their hips meshed at exactly the right point.

  On contact, waves stronger than the ocean current raced through her body and she savored the sensation, swaying to the rising current of pleasure he created. Her hips rocked in unison with his. With each roll of his waist, every deliberate thrust of his groin against her body, desire built higher and higher. His mouth worked similar magic, tasting, nipping and exploring.

  She moaned aloud, the first sound from either of them.

  His body trembled and he moved his hands from her waist to her shoulders, his thumb caressing her flesh in circles, the pressure of his fingers increasing, matching the harder thrust of his lower body. At the same time, he led her across the room.

  Her back hit the wall and she finally had the support she needed to hold her up against the sensual onslaught. Through mind-numbing kisses, he nudged her legs apart and shifted until his thigh came in contact with her there. She was out of her mind with need, practically panting with unfulfilled desire.

  The next thing she knew, he’d shifted her forward. He slipped his hands inside her bottoms so his hands cupped her cheeks and thrust her directly against his hard, muscular thigh. She was full and wet, on the verge of what surely would be the most spectacular climax in the history of climaxes. Whimpering and completely out of control, she ground herself against him over and over, seeking relief that seemed just out of reach.

  “Come,” he whispered in her ear, pumping his leg up and down, teasing her and yet somehow, increasing the pressure each time.

  “Riley—” Her voice broke on a sob.

  “Don’t hold back, baby.” He slipped one hand around her hips and into the front of her bathing suit. His fingers sliding through her damp heat to ease one finger between her folds. “I’ll catch you. Come on, Soph. I won’t let you go,” he said in a roughened voice.

  She shut her eyes and let her head loll back, ecstasy overwhelming her. And all the while he continued to rock his thigh, hard and fast beneath her.

  She imagined him pumping thick and hot inside her body. Harder. Faster. Deeper. And she splintered in his arms, the most intense pleasure she’d ever experienced washing over and over and over her.

  “Wow.” She opened her eyes to find him watching her intently and tried not to squirm in embarrassment.

  “You can’t hide anything from me.”

  She merely nodded, then realized how one-sided this had been. “I…let’s go to the bedroom so I can take care of you,” she said, leaning forward and nipping lightly on his earlobe.

  He shuddered with pleasure. “Much as I’d love to do just that, it’s unnecessary.” A twitch worked at one side of his mouth.

  “You mean you already—”

  “Uh-huh. Taking you there and watching you come did it for me.”

  “Oh, wow.” She’d never had that kind of effect on a man. Either that or she’d never met a man who would admit that she had, she thought. “I guess I’m pretty potent, huh?”

  He grinned. “We could bottle you and make millions.”

  She laughed. “Shower?”

  “You read my mind.”

  Hand in hand, they were halfway there when the telephone rang.

  “I’ll get it and meet you in there,” she offered. Her body still trembled with aftershocks and she could use a minute before stepping under the hot spray.

  She ran for the phone in the bedroom, drew a deep breath and lifted the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Who’s this?” a young female voice asked.

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Elizabeth Nash. Who are you and where’s my dad?”

  Riley’s daughter, Sophie thought. He must have given her the house number when he’d checked in with her earlier. Obviously the young girl wasn’t into polite niceties or preliminaries. “I’m Sophie Jordan and…” Sophie trailed off. Did she tell Lizzie that her father was in the shower, making things sound, oh, about as tawdry as they were, or did she go get Riley?

  “Hold on and I’ll get your dad.” She placed the phone on the counter and knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Come on in.” She opened the door and peeked inside.

  “No need to knock, darlin’. You’ve
already seen it all,” he said as he stepped naked beneath the spray. “You gonna join me?”

  “Your daughter’s on the phone.”

  He frowned. “Tell her I’m in the shower.”

  She grabbed the door frame. “I thought about that and it doesn’t sound like she’d take that too well. At least not from me.”

  He picked up the soap and began lathering his gorgeous body. “Then just tell her I’ll call her back in a minute.”

  She nodded. “Will do,” she said, and turned to go.

  “Sophie?”

  She pivoted back around. “Yes?”

  “Don’t let Lizzie intimidate you. Her bark’s worse than her bite.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said, shutting the door behind her. She walked back to the phone, thinking how Riley adored his daughter and probably made untold allowances for her.

  She lifted the phone again. “Elizabeth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He said he’d call you back.”

  The young girl let out a prolonged sigh and Sophie gripped the receiver hard, preparing for an argument.

  “Okay, just tell him it’s important. Life-or-death important.” But the bored tone sounded anything but distressed.

  A pop sounded in Sophie’s ear. Bubble gum? she wondered. “I’ll give him the message.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Click.

  Left holding a dead phone in her hand, Sophie merely blinked before hanging up and easing herself down onto the bed. Her body still tingled, a delicious reminder of what they’d just shared. She shivered and rubbed her bare hands up and down her arms. She would have thought their behavior was as juvenile as two teenagers behind the school, except her feelings were far more adult and intense.

  Riley strode out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair as he came up beside her. “What’d Lizzie have to say?”

  “I don’t think she likes me,” Sophie said, recalling the young girl’s defensive attitude that had quickly turned bored and dismissive.

  He slung the towel around his neck and laughed. “She doesn’t know you.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me she wouldn’t want to. Let me guess. Daddy’s little girl?”

  Riley’s mouth lifted in a grin that said it all.

  Just what Sophie didn’t need—a teenager with an attitude and a proprietary air about her father.

  Riley winked at Sophie before he picked up the phone to call his daughter.

  Lizzie answered on the first ring. “Dad?”

  Hearing her voice warmed him. “Hey, Lizzie baby, how are you?”

  “Not good! Mom’s being so unfair!”

  He rolled his eyes at the familiar refrain. “What’s going on?”

  “My friends are going to the Seaport and she won’t let me go.”

  Riley didn’t have to see the pout to know it was on his daughter’s face. He hated her being unhappy and wanted to fix whatever went wrong. Sometimes Lisa drove him crazy with her rules. In this case he didn’t see what was wrong with shopping with friends.

  “When’s the day?” he asked.

  “Next week. We have school vacation, remember?”

  He lowered himself onto the bed. “Of course I remember. We’re going to Playland sometime next week, right?”

  “Yeah. Right. But I really want to go to the Seaport and Mom says I can’t go unchaperoned at night.”

  “Night?” he asked, his ears perking up.

  “Evening,” she said, clarifying. “Like five o’clock.”

  Happy hour, he thought. “Who would be there?”

  “Dad!”

  He chuckled at her outrage. “I have to ask. Now spill. Something has your mother upset enough to say no.” Aside from the hour, which would inevitably turn into eight or nine o’clock.

  “Miranda and Ashley,” she said, naming her two best friends. “And their parents already said yes.”

  Riley reserved judgment on that bit of news. These kids were notorious for telling each set of parents that the others had already agreed, hoping to sway things their way.

  “Who else?” he asked.

  “Mmmadjkr,” she mumbled.

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Say it again clearly this time.”

  “Mike and Joey and Rick and Frank,” she said on an indignant huff, clearly annoyed at being forced to reveal all.

  “I’d say the boys are your mother’s problem. That and the hour.”

  “But…but…you don’t trust me?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not you we don’t trust.”

  “It’s everyone else out there.” She parroted the words he and Lisa had used with her before. “Dad, this is so unfair! I just want to hang out with my friends at the Seaport. I don’t see what’s so bad about that. Everyone’s going to go and I’ll be left out, and then they’ll talk about it at school and I’ll be the only one who’s not part of things!” Her voice trembled, tugging at his heart.

  “I’ll talk to your mother.”

  “She’ll never agree. Can’t I just sleep at your house so I can go and we won’t tell her? Please, Daddy, please.”

  He groaned, hating the pleading tone in her voice. “We’ll talk when I get home tomorrow.”

  “You’re the best!” she squealed into the phone.

  “Lizzie, I didn’t promise anything,” he reminded her.

  She laughed. “But I know you and I love you.” She blew a kiss into the phone. “Gotta go now! Bye!”

  The phone clicked on her end. Lizzie, he realized, had twisted his words into what she wanted to hear. If he didn’t agree, she’d blame him even more than she already blamed her mother.

  “Teenagers should come with an instruction manual,” he muttered.

  “Nobody ever said it would be easy.”

  He turned, startled at the sound of Sophie’s voice. Wrapped up in Lizzie’s drama, he’d forgotten she sat patiently by his side. “It amazes me how easy it is for someone who’s never been a parent to offer platitudes.”

  She inclined her head. “Good point.”

  At least she didn’t seem insulted.

  “I take it she wanted to go somewhere and her mother said no?” Sophie asked.

  He nodded. “South Street Seaport during happy hour.”

  “And you agreed with…” Sophie trailed off.

  “Lisa,” he said, helping her out with his ex’s name. “I didn’t agree and you know it. You heard my side of the conversation. I said we’d talk about it when I got home.”

  Sophie curled a leg beneath her and studied him. “Lisa,” she said. “The woman you married because you were young and in love? Or she was young and pregnant?” she asked.

  He liked that she didn’t pull punches. “Too young to know what love was, too young to have kids, too stupid to know we didn’t know any better.” He shook his head and laughed. “But we did get Lizzie out of the deal. Lisa’s married to a stuffed-shirt accountant now and they tend to follow the rules.”

  “Aha,” Sophie said, nodding. “You, the nonconformist, don’t want to follow those rules.” A gleam of certainty sparkled in her eyes.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “It isn’t that simple.”

  “So explain.” She leaned forward, waiting.

  He felt certain, once he revealed his motives, she’d come down firmly on his side; after all, she’d already shown she understood him when it came to Spencer. Her insight had provided him with much-needed support this trip.

  He’d never shared his feelings about Lizzie with anyone in his life, but he wasn’t surprised he now wanted Sophie to be the first. The notion that he was seeking her understanding, or worse, her approval, was a threat to his style of doing things his own way in his own time.

  “There’s a reason I don’t like to do what others expect.” He paused and she remained silent, giving him whatever time he needed to gather his thoughts. “I spent the better part of my life, my youth, trying to get Spencer to notice me.”

  Unable to si
t still, and finding it even more difficult to look into Sophie’s solemn eyes, he rose and paced the carpeted room. “By the time I won the Heisman and was represented by Yank, with no word from my father, I decided I was no longer going to please anyone but myself.”

  Sophie swallowed over the lump in her throat. Imagining Riley as a little boy seeking his father’s elusive approval broke her heart. That it was Spencer, a man who’d given her love and understanding, hurt even more. Guilt pierced through her, making her feel as if she’d stolen something precious from him. Something he’d never get back.

  “When Lizzie was born, I held this little bundle in my arms. She was smaller, and a hell of a lot more delicate, than a football.” He grinned, but in his face she saw love and emotion, something so deep it took her breath away.

  She started to reach for him then changed her mind. What he felt for his daughter had nothing to do with her and she had no right to intrude on it. “Go on,” she said softly.

  “Right then, I promised myself—and I promised her—she’d never wonder if her father loved her. She’d never look around and question why her father wasn’t a part of her life. And she’d never ever resent me.” He set his jaw tight.

  Sophie glanced down, knowing she had to phrase this exactly right. “Just be her father.”

  “It’s not that simple. I’m not there when she goes to sleep at night or when she wakes up in the morning.”

  “So you want to give her what she wants to make up for it.”

  He shrugged. “That’s my job as her father.”

  “Your job is to make sure she grows up safe and sound and loved. The best way to do that is to set rules—”

  “To hell with that,” he muttered, rising from the bed. “Control and rules are your thing, not mine. But because of everything you’ve seen down here, I thought you’d understand my relationship with my daughter. Apparently I was wrong,” he said in a suddenly frosty voice.

  She blinked, startled by his change in tone. “Of course I understand.” But that didn’t mean she totally agreed.