No matter how much Sophie understood what made Riley tick, he’d never get past
her
need for stability and routine. Inevitably they’d clash over every decision he made that was spontaneous or unexpected, and he’d hate the way she made him feel boxed in. For her part, there was no possible way she could change the habits of a lifetime, ones that gave her comfort and security.
In fact, the more she thought about their short affair, the more she realized that he’d done her a favor by distancing himself in Florida before things between them got even more complicated or serious. A little heartache now was nothing compared to the damage he could have done to her if he’d gotten an even tighter hold on her heart.
R
UNNING ON THE TREADMILL
was a damn good way to release stress, and since returning from Florida just a few short days ago, Riley had had plenty of aggravation. First the scene with Lisa and Ted, and then the fact that his daughter was upset with the new regime, as she called it, and didn’t like that all three parents had read her the riot act. She’d decided to take her anger out on Riley by not making herself available to see him. His daughter turning on him was the one thing he’d wanted to avoid and he didn’t know how to make things better.
Then there was the issue of his burning desire to see Sophie again in someplace other than his dreams. And definitely someplace other than on the television screen being promoted as
sexy, smart and single
by her crazy uncle. Riley pounded on the rubber at a steep incline. Willing himself not to focus on his problems, he turned up the volume on the headset and set the channel to one of the sports channels before running harder.
But as usual, he couldn’t stop thinking about Sophie. He missed her like crazy. Yank Morgan’s close-up photo of Sophie had been like a kick in the head, reminding him she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Not to mention more vulnerable than she liked to let on and more sexy than any woman had a right to be.
Her uncle had held her out like a piece of meat in the marketplace. Unfortunately Yank’s description was dead-on accurate and every red-blooded male in this country probably now knew it, too.
Riley came to a skidding halt and grabbed the towel he’d slung over the handlebar.
“She’s hot.” Mike, his best friend, running back and occasional weight spotter, gestured to the television where they were rerunning clips from Yank’s interview, including the headshot of Sophie. “That is the chick from Florida, right?” Mike asked.
Riley had unloaded on his friend last night while at a bar, but only because Mike wouldn’t spread the information around the locker room. “That’s her.”
Mike knew that he’d hooked up with Sophie in Florida and that she’d gotten under Riley’s skin, but not even Mike knew about his relationship to Atkins. Growing up in a politician’s house had taught Riley the value of keeping a secret.
“I can see why you can’t forget about her. So why not have some fun and let the thing run its course?” Mike suggested.
Riley had asked himself the same question many times during sleepless nights when he’d tossed and turned, images of Sophie’s body under—and over—his keeping him aroused and awake.
Riley tipped his head to one side and really pondered the notion. If he couldn’t get Sophie out of his head by staying away from her, maybe he should stop fighting it. Maybe he should try and pick up where they had left off and allow the relationship to lose steam on its own. It would. They always did.
Riley glanced at Mike. “Every once in a while, you come up with a not-so-stupid idea.” He gave his buddy a friendly punch on the shoulder and started for the shower.
“Where are you going?” Mike asked.
“To act instead of sitting on my ass.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Mike asked. “I have some things to follow up on.”
Riley shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Spencer Atkins had been Mike’s agent for years. Riley ignored the stab in his chest brought on by the reminder that other people were good enough for Atkins’s representation. Just not Riley.
A
FTER A QUICK SHOWER
at the gym, Riley headed over to Athletes Only. He knew he must be desperate to see Sophie if he was willing to risk running into his old man to do it. He had his doubts she’d have anything to say to him, but he had to try. His sanity depended on it.
An hour later, after a frustrating trip through heavy city traffic, they arrived at the offices of Athletes Only and The Hot Zone. His heart pounded hard in his chest, along with a suffocating feeling he hadn’t experienced…ever.
He stepped off the elevator and into what looked like a flower shop. Vases lined the reception desk filled with bouquets of carnations, roses and other assorted varieties he couldn’t possibly name.
“Are we in the right place?” Mike asked jokingly.
“Damned if I know.” Riley walked to the desk and peered between the floral displays. “Is Sophie Jordan in?”
The woman he’d met last time glanced up at him, then sneezed. “If you have flowers, put them in the corner,” she said, then returned to the work in front of her, ignoring him.
Riley cleared his throat. “I’d like to see Sophie. I’m a client.”
Behind him, Mike snickered. “Client, my ass.”
“That’s what they all say,” the receptionist said, all but echoing Mike. “See these?” She gestured to the flowers surrounding them. “They each belong to someone who claims to be a client or wants to be a client of Ms. Jordan’s.”
Riley’s stomach rolled at the revelation. In his wildest dreams, he’d never have thought Yank’s pronouncement would result in any real attention showered on Sophie. He’d been dead wrong and now not only did he have competition, but that competition hadn’t slept with, then insulted and jilted her all in the same breath.
The receptionist scowled at Riley. “Frankly, Ms. Jordan can do better than all of you. How pathetic to show up here just because her uncle broadcast her photo and single status on national TV.”
Ouch.
Riley leaned across the desk, being careful not to knock over the flowers and upset the secretary even more. “I agree. We met last time I was here. You’d just started here temporarily, if I recall.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You do look sort of familiar.”
“Then here’s a friendly suggestion for you. You’re doing a great job screening people for your boss, but get to know the real clients. I’m Riley Nash, a long-time client of Yank’s and more recently of Sophie’s. So how ’bout you cut one of the good guys some slack and tell Sophie she has a visitor?” he asked, emphasizing his accent, since most women found it charming.
She pursed her lips and scanned what he hoped was a client list. Finally her eyes opened wide and she jumped up from her seat. “Good gosh, I am so sorry! You’re Riley Nash.” She ran around the desk and reached out to grab his hand, pumping it hard.
“That’s what I said.” He couldn’t help but grin. “And this is Michael Putnam, one of Spencer’s clients.” He turned to Mike, only to find his friend gawking at the young brunette.
She wasn’t Riley’s type, but since Sophie, he wasn’t sure he had a type.
“You go on in and I’ll just let Sophie know she has company. And please don’t tell Ms. Jordan I almost didn’t let you through. I’ve already messed up once and I am really hoping for a permanent position here.”
Mike strode up to her and placed an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll put in a good word for you. As a matter of fact, why don’t we talk while Riley goes in to see Sophie?”
Riley said a silent thank-you that Mike would remain behind. Riley didn’t need Mike by his side when he faced Sophie for the first time since he’d messed up.
As Riley walked down the hall, all he could think about were the flowers. He wondered who’d sent them, and noted how much satisfaction he’d take in breaking each and every bloom, stem by stem.
“You’re sick,” Riley muttered to himself.
Love-sick?
a little voice in his head asked.
Sophie’s light laughter captured his attention. “No dinner, no date, no, thank you,” she said, then hung up the phone as Riley stepped into the doorway and drank in the sight of her.
She was every inch the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind, and more. From the top of her perfectly styled hair to the tailored suit that molded to curves he’d held in his hands, to the tips of her high-heeled pumps, she was
his
hot item and he’d be damned if another man or his flowers would get anywhere near her ever again.
S
INCE
U
NCLE
Y
ANK
’
S
television interview three days ago, Sophie had been inundated with phone calls from persistent men asking her on dates. She’d been pointed to on the street and inundated with flowers. All because
Dateline NBC
had picked up on the interview and included it in a special broadcast entitled “Matchmaking Relatives: Are they a meddling nuisance or a prime way to hook up in an uncertain world?” Sophie, herself, had been avoiding calls from the producer to do a follow-up interview. Talk about unwanted publicity. She really couldn’t take much more harassment.
Sophie hung up on her most persistent caller of the day, her sister Micki’s best friend, John Roper. He was looking for a replacement confidante while her sister was away, and he’d turned to Sophie. If she were to date a ballplayer, she had to admit Roper had potential. He was more refined than most, a metrosexual type who enjoyed the finer things in life. Though trouble followed Roper like a magnet, he was definitely fun to be around.
Fun or not, Roper was still a ballplayer with a thick head and a stubborn personality. Oh wait. That was Riley, she thought, laughing at her own joke.
“Hey, babe.”
Speak of the devil. Sophie glanced up, startled at the sound of Riley’s voice. It was as if she’d conjured him. Her attention flitted over him and she hated to admit he was still a feast for the senses. His faded jeans molded to his strong thighs and his unshaven face and light tan looked sexy paired with a pale blue collared tee.
“Well, well, well. What brings you to this side of the world?” Forcing herself to remain behind her desk—the only protection she could find at the moment—she aimed for a casual and unaffected air.
He walked inside as if Florida had never happened and settled himself on the corner of her desk. “I wanted to see how you were handling your fifteen minutes of fame.”
He treated her to a grin that had once melted her defenses, but now she knew better. She’d let them down once before and lived to regret it.
Riley glanced at the flowers surrounding her, a definite frown marring his handsome face. “Your allergies must be bothering you with these things taking up so much air space,” he said, his tone sarcastic.
“Not a bit,” she said, and tried not to smile. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was jealous of her newfound attention. She checked her watch, eager to have him gone before she did something she’d regret. Like throw herself into his arms just one more time. “I’m busy so…”
“Want to get a bite to eat?” he blurted out.
She raised her eyes. A nervous muscle actually twitched in his jaw. She immediately rejected the thought. No way was Riley anxious about seeing her again. Nothing about women rattled Riley.
As for his question, she would not go out with him. Been there done that, she thought, quelling temptation. “Thanks anyway but I have plans.”
“With one of your suitors?” he asked with definite distaste. “You can’t be serious.”
She tried not to laugh, but with his use of the antiquated term, now she was certain. Riley was squirming. And she was female enough to enjoy his discomfort.
“I didn’t realize our relationship dictated I had to explain or answer to you.” She focused on her freshly done nails. “Oh, that’s right. We don’t have a relationship.”
He rose and rounded the desk. Looming over her, he gripped the sides of her chair and leaned close. She inhaled, taking in his fresh scent and trying to ignore the sexual desire galloping through her. Apparently her body didn’t understand what her mind and heart already did.
“I thought when two people slept together, they had
something,
” he said, his eyes flashing with equal parts desire and determination.
She didn’t know where this change of heart had come from, and emotionally, she couldn’t afford to find out. Around Riley, self-protection would be a smart tactic.
“And I thought when the last words exchanged after sex were ‘I’m going to pack,’ that
something
equaled
nothing.
”
“I don’t call what’s happening between us right now nothing.” His lips hovered over hers, teasing. Tantalizing.
She fisted her hands, digging her nails into her skin to avoid acting on that
something
and kissing him senseless.
“Riley?” she said on a husky purr, one she couldn’t control.
“Hmm?”
“We had fun and all, but I am not going there again.” She couldn’t get a handle on his varying mood swings. She didn’t know how to deal with a man like him, nor did she have the inclination to try.
He’d already proved how easily he could turn on her. Since she couldn’t control Riley—or her feelings for him—she had to send him away now. Before she let herself care even more. It was the only means of preservation she could think of, because he was a man sure to leave again. At some point, it would be for good.
“Would it help if I said I was wrong?” he asked.
She shut her eyes, steeling herself against his gentle voice and implied apology. “We’re different, Riley.”
“Opposites attract.”
“We’re like oil and water. We don’t mix.”
“I prefer to think of us as a more combustible combination.” He turned his head and his lips settled on her cheek in a soft kiss. “Want to see the sparks?”
She lifted her hands to his shoulders and pushed him away. “It was fun but it’s over. No more quickies for us.” She spun her chair back around and stood, gesturing toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”
“You must be extra busy. I heard about the computer virus and how the contracts were distributed without permission,” he said, understanding and sympathy in his voice.
“You don’t have anything to worry about. None of our clients do. Our lawyers are on top of the situation. Everything’s fine.”
He grinned. “Glad to hear it. Then you can come for dinner. You have to take a break to eat anyway.”
“I told you I have plans,” she lied.
He shrugged, seemingly undeterred and unfazed. “Break them.”
“No.”
“You can’t possibly want to go out with one of these bozos,” he said, waving at the flowers.
“You mean after having experienced the great Riley Nash?” she asked, forcing a laugh. “You know what? It’s time for you to leave. You have no right to show up here and make demands. You have even less right to act like a jealous idiot. You made your choice, now I’m making mine.” She turned her back and waited for whatever comeback he had.
Seconds that felt like minutes passed in silence. Suddenly she heard footsteps walking away.
She exhaled hard, grateful that she could now deal with the lump in her throat and lead weight in her chest. Slowly she retreated to her desk and lowered herself into her chair, closing her eyes.
When she opened them, Riley still stood in the doorway. “I’m glad to see you’re more affected than you wanted me to realize.”
“You’re a weasel,” she muttered.
“No, babe, I just don’t do the things you expect, and you know what? You
like
that about me. You don’t know how to deal with me, but you do enjoy me.”
She lifted the first thing she could find, a block of sticky notes, and leveled it across the room, but the lightweight object dropped uselessly to the floor.
“When you decide to come around, we could work on your throwing arm.” He grinned.
She grabbed for another object.
He laughed and ducked out the door before she could hurl the paperweight at him.
Alone, she slammed her hand on the intercom button and told her secretary to hold all her calls and turn away any visitors.
The urge to run after him was strong, but Sophie knew better and she was not going to give herself a chance to second-guess her decision to turn him away. No, she was going to move on. She was going to go out and have fun, to heck with the man who wanted to turn her life upside down.
She headed to Cindy’s office and they agreed to go to Quarters, the new
it
sports bar in town, for drinks after work. Anything to keep her mind off of Riley, she thought. And when Roper called once more, she invited him to join them.
R
ILEY LEFT
Sophie and met up with Mike by the elevators. They headed for Houston’s for some decent ribs and a good amount of beer. Riley knew he was feeling sorry for himself for not getting through to Sophie, but he couldn’t help it. He was a man who usually got his way with a charming smile or good-old-boy wink. Sophie made him work for what he wanted and he knew damn well that was part of her allure. Not that he desired her only because he couldn’t have her, but he did admire her resolve.
Like a good, solid football game, the one who hung in there the longest was bound to win. If Riley understood nothing else, it was determination.
He was preoccupied with his thoughts and, thank God, Mike was smart enough to shut up and eat. His friend didn’t push for conversation, nor did he give Riley a hard time about obviously striking out with Sophie. For that, Riley paid the dinner bill and when Mike suggested they hit Quarters Sports Bar next, a place co-owned by one of their ex-teammates, Riley agreed. Some more liquor felt like a good idea about now.
No sooner had he entered the bar than his cell phone rang. He glanced down, saw his mother’s Mississippi number and stepped outside to take the call in private.
“Mom?” he asked, as he snapped the phone open.
“No, son, it’s your father,” Harlan said.
Riley leaned against the glass front beneath a large awning. “How are you?” he asked. He’d been meaning to call home, but dreaded the inevitable conversation with his mother about Spencer.
For a long time, he’d thought he wanted more information, but since actually meeting the man, he’d done everything he could to avoid learning the truth. Had they been in love? Or had Riley been Spencer’s misguided way of trying to get over being gay? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, so he’d sidestepped the very people who probably had the answers.
“Life’s good. Your mother said you’ve been impossible to reach lately and I promised her I’d get in touch.”
Riley heard the unspoken reproach. “I’m not in a place where I can talk. I should’ve called but I’ve been busy. Tell Mother I’ll call first thing in the morning.”
His stepfather cleared his throat. “What happened in Florida?” the senator asked without warning.
Riley stiffened. “How did you know I was in Florida?” He hadn’t told his mother he’d gone to seek out Spencer.
“Knowledge is my business, son.”
Riley studied the dirty underside of the awning. He didn’t appreciate his stepfather keeping tabs on him. “I like to think my life is my own.”
“It is, but you have to realize my right hand and I need to stay on top of this tawdry gossip story about your…er…about Spencer Atkins,” Harlan said, lowering his voice.
Ridiculous, Riley thought. It wasn’t as if anybody was listening. “So far nobody’s found out about my relationship to the man. I don’t see that changing.”
“It’s in all of our best interests that it doesn’t.”
“I realize that.” And he’d intended to ask Sophie to keep an ear out at the office for any sign of trouble, but he’d never gotten that far.
The fact was, the woman had him so tied up in knots, he couldn’t think straight.
“Riley? I asked how your off-season workouts are going.”
“Just fine. Listen, I have to run but give Mom my love and don’t worry about anything. Things here are under control,” he said to reassure the older man.
“I know that they are,” Harlan said in his typically self-assured way. “I’m certain Spencer Atkins has his hands full with his own crises, and reporters are too busy digging into his current problems to worry about his past.”
Riley nodded. “I take it you also heard that his agency had a major computer meltdown and his form contracts were sent out over the Internet? Hundreds of contacts and business associates who had no business knowing what was in those documents now do.”
Harlan actually chuckled. “I did hear something to that effect.”
Riley shook his head, as always in awe of the man and his ability to unearth private information. “You
are
good.”
“Yes, well, as a politician, I must keep myself informed of everything and anything that might affect my position or my family.”
“I understand.” He’d grown up with Harlan’s philosophy imprinted on his brain.
Position first, family a close second, both intertwined, Riley thought. Harlan would do almost anything to make sure his senate seat and run for the White House was protected. “I’ll talk to you soon,” Riley promised.
“You bet.”
Riley disconnected and headed back for the bar and a nice strong drink. A hard drink, one a step up from beer. Before he had the chance to order, he heard a familiar laugh and his gut clenched with unmistakable awareness.
Following the tantalizing sound, he turned his head and caught Sophie’s startled wide eyes. She lifted her glass to him, in silent acknowledgment, before returning her attention to—another man.
S
OPHIE HAD BEEN
at the bar for half an hour before Riley suddenly showed up. No big surprise, since this was the newest sports bar in town, but she’d come out for a break from the phone calls and flowers. She’d also wanted time to not think about Riley. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.
She took one look at him and her breath caught and her throat grew tight, longing filling her. “Why can’t I catch a break?”
Cindy shot her a look of silent understanding, one only another woman could achieve, and continued to talk about the fixed computer files in order to distract her.
Nothing could take Sophie’s mind off the man at the bar, not even the white-wine spritzer in front of her, but she appreciated her friend’s attempt. As for the office computer system, they’d gotten back on track finally. The tech guys insisted it wasn’t a real derivative of the Klez virus, but more like someone had tampered with the system. They’d backtracked and tried to figure it out, but the trace led nowhere and they’d chalked it up to a freak occurrence.