Hot Item

by Carly Phillips

  Besides, if Damian was wrong and his absence didn’t make Sophie’s heart grow fonder, Riley would just turn around and kick the other man’s ass.

  A FEW DAYS AFTER Sophie’s return, the partners gathered in the boardroom. Uncle Yank glanced around, and obviously satisfied, began to call their meeting to order. “The weekly meeting of The Hot Zone—”

  Spencer cleared his throat loudly.

  Uncle Yank frowned but got the message and started over. “The weekly meeting of Athletes Only and The Hot Zone will now come to order.” Uncle Yank rapped his gavel, given to him by Judge Judy, on the table with such glee that Sophie jumped in her seat.

  He lived for this gig, Sophie thought.

  “The secretary should note that all partners are present and accounted for.” His gaze settled on Lola, who sat next to him, doodling but not taking notes.

  “I said, the secretary should note that all partners are present and accounted for.” He nudged his wife with his elbow. “Lola, honey, you’re the secretary. That means you take the notes.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. Or don’t you hear my pen moving on the paper? I thought you told me that when the sight goes, the other senses get heightened?” Lola asked too sweetly.

  Uh-oh. Sophie and her sisters shared amused glances. Obviously husband and wife were arguing again, which, considering the parties involved were Yank and Lola, wasn’t a great surprise, nor was it a cause for worry. It was status quo.

  “You’re scribblin’ circles, honey,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Lola glanced up from her paper. “I wouldn’t have thought you could see the difference, dear.”

  “Oh Lord. Are we going to witness a family squabble?” Spencer asked.

  Sophie chuckled. “As if you didn’t know what it was like to be a part of this clan.”

  “What in the world is going on now?” Annabelle asked.

  Lola placed her pen down on her pad. “I came home early yesterday and found your uncle making himself a tuna-fish sandwich.”

  Everyone waited for the punch line.

  “The tuna was in a Tupperware container in the fridge. I don’t need my full peepers to do that.” Yank defended himself, but the color high on his cheekbones said there was more.

  “You were cutting a tomato with a serrated knife,” Lola said, her voice rising.

  Yank exhaled a frustrated groan. “I’m not a child who needs his food cut up for him.”

  “And I don’t intend to be married to a nine-fingered mutant pain in the ass. You push things too far, Yank Morgan. I know you. You’d cut off one finger at a time if it meant keeping your independence.” Lola gripped her pen tighter in her hand.

  “I’m fine. It was just a little nick.” He held up the injured digit. His middle finger stuck straight up in the air, flipping the bird to everyone at the table.

  Everyone, with the exception of Lola, snickered at the sight. The sad truth was that Lola had every right to be concerned, but as usual, Uncle Yank managed to turn the situation into a circus.

  “I need the afternoon off,” Lola announced.

  Spencer cleared his throat. “I don’t see a problem.”

  “What for?” Yank demanded to know.

  She met his gaze, a smug smile on her lips.

  Sophie braced herself for whatever the other woman had in mind.

  “I plan to go on over to Toys ’R’ Us. I’m going to purchase those babyproof locks so I can secure the drawers and cabinets,” she said to her husband.

  “Oh no,” Micki muttered.

  “Here we go,” Sophie agreed.

  Uncle Yank rose from his chair. “The hell you will. You can’t lock me out of my own kitchen.”

  Lola gathered her papers and stood, too. “Just watch me, you old coot. Someone has to protect you from yourself.” She straightened her shoulders and strode out of the room.

  Yank followed right after her, arguing all the way.

  The remaining partners glanced around the room.

  Sophie grabbed the forgotten gavel and smacked it against the table. “I move we continue without them.”

  “I second,” Annabelle said.

  “Third.” Spencer nodded.

  Sophie hit the table once more. “Motion passed.” She grinned. She could get used to this little bit of power, she thought, turning the gavel around in her hand.

  “Okay, Little Miss Dictator,” Micki said, laughing. “What’s the first order of business?”

  Although Sophie normally made notes on what they should cover in their weekly meeting, today Sophie’s pad was empty. Sort of like her life, she thought.

  Since coming home from Mississippi, life had been as conspicuously quiet as it had been crazy busy before the trip. Although only three days had passed, she recognized the distinct change. No more break-ins, no sabotage, no problems. Eerie but true, Sophie thought. Meanwhile the police had come up blank on any leads. A niggling fear remained, but Sophie refused to live petrified until the next incident. For all she knew, whoever had started things had decided he had better things to do than harass her.

  “We should discuss the draft,” Spencer said into the silence. “On the first day, Yank and I signed Cashman five minutes before the announcements began. Not only is he our client, but he’s signed with the team with the worst record, the San Francisco 49ers.” The team with the worst record always received the first pick in the draft.

  Everyone around the table applauded. Although the Heisman winner always went to the most needy team in the league, they’d still accomplished much for their newly signed client.

  “Did you have any problems with Miguel Cambias?” Sophie asked.

  Spencer shook his head. “As a matter of fact, less than none. Go figure. He was present and active, but he didn’t go near Cashman.”

  Sophie bit down on her lower lip. Had she targeted the man unfairly? She’d have to talk to Cindy, but her friend had taken the past few days off, and Sophie hadn’t had a chance to apologize again or see what her talk with Miguel had accomplished.

  “Anything else on the agenda?” Micki asked.

  They discussed the various open client files and agreed to wrap things up until next week. Then the partners headed back to their own offices.

  Sophie didn’t stop to talk to Spencer alone because she was certain he had no desire to discuss Riley with her any more than she wanted to talk about Riley with him.

  RILEY OPENED the pizza box so he and Lizzie could dig in. They each pulled out a slice of pepperoni pizza, took their cans of Coke and headed for his den with the big-screen TV. One of the perks of coming to Dad’s was that he let Lizzie eat dinner in front of the television. It was their guilty secret and, even with his new determination to be a real father and lay down rules, he wasn’t about to deny her this treat.

  “So how’s school?” Riley asked.

  She shrugged. “Mr. Gordon hates me.”

  “Science, right?”

  She nodded.

  “How could anyone hate you?” he asked, looking proudly at his smart, gorgeous daughter and trying to suppress a grin.

  She stuffed her mouth full with pizza, then said, “I studied all night and he gave me a seventy-four! Can you believe that?”

  Riley raised an eyebrow. “Define all night. Was that all night in between your shower, blow-drying your hair, straightening your hair, talking on the phone and IMing your friends?”

  A guilty flush stained her cheeks.

  He didn’t envy his ex-wife her full-time job of keeping their child in line. “Sounds to me like you earned that seventy-four and Mr. Gordon doesn’t hate you as much as he’s giving you what you deserve.”

  She frowned, then picked up the television remote and began channel surfing in reply.

  Riley noted that in the few hours they’d been together, she hadn’t mentioned Sophie at all. Knowing Lizzie, it wasn’t so much out of sight out of mind as it was her wanting to pretend Sophie didn’t exist.

  Riley wis
hed he could do the same, but the golden-haired beauty was ever present in his mind. Typically he was a man of action, yet all he could do was hope that she missed him enough to get past her insecurities and hang-ups and give them a chance at a future.

  Damian Fuller had had a point and Riley knew three days hadn’t been nearly enough time for her to come to any realizations. He’d just have to sit tight and wait. However, patience wasn’t his strong suit.

  “Hey, Dad, look!” Lizzie gestured at the big screen. “Isn’t that your agent?”

  Lizzie had met Yank quite a few times over the years. But she wasn’t a fan of sports TV, and when he glanced up, he realized she was watching the local cable entertainment channel. Yank Morgan was being interviewed by the sports-gossip reporter, inset on the screen were photographs of Riley and Sophie, labeled with their names.

  “What’s she doing up there?” Lizzie asked in her snottiest voice.

  Riley closed his eyes and groaned. He didn’t have an answer but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “Make it louder.”

  Lizzie raised the volume.

  “Mr. Morgan, just to remind our viewers, you’re considered the sports agent to the stars. You requested this interview, so let’s talk about what’s on your mind.” The brunette leaned forward, her eyes eager and interested.

  “As everyone knows, I went on TV a few weeks ago and splashed my niece’s picture all over the news, tellin’ people she’s single and in need of a good man.”

  “I remember that,” the woman said, laughing.

  A damn good picture of Sophie, if Riley did say so himself. A little formal for his taste, since she wore her hair pinned back and a prissy, yellow sleeveless dress with a conservative houndstooth design. He preferred her naked and disheveled on his bed.

  Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he glanced at his daughter, then looked back at the television.

  “I’m here to issue a refraction of that story. I was wrong.”

  The reporter smiled. “You mean a retraction.”

  “That’s what I said. My Sophie is not in need of a man, so you guys out there can stop sending her flowers and plants and chocolates and things to the office.” He slashed his hand through the air.

  Riley agreed with that particular sentiment. The only man Sophie needed was him and if Yank saw fit to call off the rest of the testosterone-filled population, Riley was all for it.

  “To what do we owe your change of heart?” the interviewer asked.

  Yank grinned—a smile that Riley had seen before when Yank was ready to use his trump card and close a big deal.

  Lizzie remained silent, watching intently.

  “Well, it turns out my niece was holdin’ out on me. While I was worried about her future, she was in good hands the whole time.”

  The woman smoothed her skirt. “You mean she’s involved with a man?”

  “If you call two recent trips outta town together involved, then, yeah, she’s involved,” Yank said, laughing. “First Florida, then Mississippi. Yep, she’s involved.”

  Riley’s stomach clenched and he could swear he felt Lizzie stiffen beside him.

  “Who’s the lucky man?”

  “Football star Riley Nash, of course. Who else would she go to Mississippi with?” Yank asked, as if the question were a no-brainer.

  “Dad!” Lizzie yelled, and jumped up from her seat, a horrified expression on her face.

  He drew in a deep breath. Riley was used to being a media focus, mostly for football, occasionally for off-season entanglements, but until now his celebrity like status had never affected his daughter in such a direct way.

  Riley pressed the mute button of the remote control and turned to her. “Lizzie, I’ve always told you that you can’t let what you see on television affect how you think about people or even life. Reporters and interviewers want to get ratings or sell papers. They’ll invade a person’s private life to do it. It isn’t right, but it happens,” he said, opting to stay rational in light of her hysteria.

  “But that’s your agent and he’s on TV saying you’re involved with that woman. And it’s true, right? I mean she was at Grandma’s with us, right?”

  “That part is true,” he agreed.

  “Have you seen her since?” Lizzie asked.

  “No.” At least he could answer that honestly.

  Lizzie met his gaze, her panic and distress palpable. “But you want to, right?”

  Riley sighed. He might as well lay it on the line right now, even if it meant dealing with more of his daughter’s drama. “Sit, okay?”

  Reluctantly, she lowered herself into a chair.

  Riley leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. “Your mother married Ted, right?”

  His daughter nodded.

  “Does that mean she loves you any less? That you’re any less important to her?”

  She shook her head, her eyes round and huge. “Are you saying you’re gonna marry Sophie?”

  Though he’d set himself up, the question still caught him off guard. As he sometimes did in a big game, Riley decided to wing it. He’d talk to Lizzie as the words came to him and hope for the best.

  “When your mom and I divorced, I never thought I’d get married again. We loved each other, but we couldn’t get along well enough to make it work. I didn’t want to go through it again.” She was too young to understand lust not real love, and she deserved to believe he’d loved her mother. He had, in a young sort of way.

  Lizzie sniffed. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Eventually, if Sophie agrees, yes, I’d want to marry her,” he said slowly, realizing he was speaking from the heart. “But you will always be my number-one girl and anybody I marry would know that. Sophie already knows that, honey. You just need to give her a chance.”

  Lizzie glanced at him, her lashes damp, her eyes shimmering with tears, and his gut cramped painfully. This was the little girl who always looked at him with love and adoration in her eyes. He’d promised himself he’d never disappoint her, yet here he was, doing just that. He’d never felt lower and yet he’d never been more sure that he was doing the right thing for them both.

  “She’ll never be my mom.” Defiance tinged Lizzie’s tone.

  Riley gave her a grim smile. “She’ll never try to be. Assuming things work out the way I’d want them to, she’d be just like Ted is for you—someone you can trust with anything you need.” That was how much faith he had in Sophie.

  “This sucks,” Lizzie said, and crossed her arms over her chest in that obstinate way of hers.

  Riley chuckled. “All things considered, I’ll let you get away with that.”

  His nerves were on edge, his emotions frazzled from dealing with Lizzie and from realizing how he really felt about marrying Sophie. Despite how often he thought about her, he’d never followed the notion to its logical conclusion.

  Now that he had, he was overwhelmed with a sense of rightness. “Sometimes,” he said to his still-upset daughter, “a person realizes he needs more to be happy. And to be a good father to you, I need to be happy.” And Sophie, with her big smile and bigger heart, her neuroses and need for order, made him happy.

  Who would have thought it?

  Lizzie swallowed hard. “I still don’t like it.”

  “You’ll learn to like it,” he said, laughing.

  Whether or not Sophie came around to his way of thinking was another story. But thanks to Yank’s ridiculous impulses, Riley had a chance to get his daughter to understand what Riley needed.

  He was willing to give his daughter time to get used to the idea, but he wasn’t willing to give up Sophie while Lizzie mulled it over.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SOPHIE MET UP with Cindy at Cake ’n’ Bake, a little hole-in-the-wall bakery in SoHo. Together they were going to buy the pièce de résistance of Lola and Yank’s party, a cake to end all cakes and a surprise for Uncle Yank and Lola. The only catch for Sophie was that she hadn’t seen Cindy since their confrontation ove
r Miguel Cambias. Still, Sophie took Cindy’s willingness to meet her today as a good sign. Otherwise she’d have to wait until Monday of next week, when her friend returned to work, to see if Cindy had forgiven Sophie.

  She waited for Cindy on the sidewalk. A beautiful April day, the wind blew with a definite hint of spring. Sophie wanted to enjoy the beginning of the season, but she was preoccupied with too many things, like the possibility of losing a friendship and a top-notch publicist. Then there was her unresolved situation with Riley.

  “Sophie? I’m sorry I’m late. I just had to stop at the dry cleaners on the way over.” Cindy ran up to her and screeched to a halt.

  “I’m sorry,” Sophie said, wanting to get the heart-felt apology out immediately. “I’m sorry you overheard what I said about Miguel and I’m sorry I said it. But things were in complete chaos and somebody had to be responsible and—”

  “It’s okay.” Cindy met her gaze, only compassion evident in her eyes. “I understand why you’d think he had something to do with the crazy things happening around the office. I thought so myself. That’s why I took my anger out on you.”

  “You thought Miguel was guilty?” Sophie asked, surprised.

  Cindy swallowed hard. “It crossed my mind. I thought about the sudden attention, the constant e-mails. I wondered. But when I asked him about it…”

  “What’d he say?” Sophie asked.

  “Basically that either I trusted him or I didn’t.” She bit down on her trembling lower lip.

  Sophie stepped closer to her friend. “And?”

  “And I walked out on him.” Cindy exhaled long and hard. “I took the elevator down to the ground floor and I walked the streets of Harlem. Then I realized either I was sleeping with a man I believe in or I wasn’t.”

  Sophie listened, her heart in her throat. She felt as if she were sitting on the edge of her seat, rooting for Cindy and Miguel. “So what did you do?”

  “I turned and ran all the way back to his building, up the stairs and back to his office.” A blush stained Cindy’s cheeks, evidence of her overwhelming emotions for this man. “I told him I had faith.” She shrugged. “It’s not like the tech guys were able to track anything back to him.”