With his ex-wife, everything had been a rush. He blamed it on the foolishness of youth. They had to have each other, had to get married right away, had to have unprotected sex and of course Lisa had ended up pregnant—even though three or four nights a week, Riley would come home later and later to avoid the inevitable argument. Why couldn’t he work out at home? Why did he have to hang out with the guys after a game? They were all wrong for each other, he and Lisa. But they had done one thing right and that was his daughter.
He needed to make peace with Lizzie. She needed to accept that he was her parent as well as her friend. And he knew just how to make it happen and who could help him accomplish his goal. He rolled over and propped his head on his hand and continued to watch Sophie sleep.
Her hands were beneath her cheek as she breathed in and out evenly. Without makeup and with her hair tousled around her face, she looked softer and more vulnerable. The kind of woman who was capable of reaching out to Lizzie without earning her disdain and snotty attitude. Oh, she’d start off trying to control the situation but his badass daughter would quickly learn that Sophie Jordan couldn’t be manipulated.
He grinned, satisfied with his decision and looking forward to the fireworks. He’d never let Lizzie meet any woman he’d been involved with before. Never even considered it. But as he’d thought many times before, Sophie wasn’t just any woman.
Unable to fight the urge, he reached out and stroked her hair near her temple. She shifted slightly, sighed and settled back into deep slumber. Meanwhile he had a hard-on to match the Empire State Building, he thought, resigning himself to a long, sleepless night.
SOPHIE AWOKE at seven o’clock as always without the help of an alarm clock. She’d never had to use one, because she was always prompt—anal, as Uncle Yank liked to tease her. She immediately remembered that Riley hadn’t left her alone last night and she rolled over, already sensing he’d gone.
On the pillow where he’d slept was a handwritten note. “Went home to shower for an early-morning meeting. Car service will be downstairs at eight-thirty. Don’t make plans this weekend. You’re mine. R.”
Last night, she’d been so shaken up by the guy who’d harassed her, she hadn’t thought about anything beyond Riley and the security he represented. Now she realized she just might have given him the wrong message. Apparently he was back in her life.
How long would he stay this time? she wondered, and shivered.
She rose, showered and had a quick cup of coffee. She was grateful for the car waiting downstairs, which meant she didn’t have to stand in the street alone and hail a cab. She owed Riley a huge thanks for that and, she realized, so much more. He’d remained by her side all night, a complete gentleman in every way. She realized now what a great father he probably was. What a lucky girl Lizzie was to have him as her dad.
She was so preoccupied with her thoughts, she barely registered arriving at the office and stepping off the elevator. But as she did so, she stopped short. Uniformed police officers were swarming the hallway.
Her stomach clenched with fear. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Are you Annabelle Jordan?” one of the men asked.
She shook her head. “I’m Sophie Jordan.”
He tipped his head. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. The alarm company already called Annabelle seeing as how she was first on their list. And of course they called us.”
In the back of her mind, Sophie noted that they’d never taken Annie off the top of the alarm company’s emergency list after she’d moved out of Manhattan. It would take her sister a while to drive into the city in an emergency.
“What happened?” she asked, barely able to take in the men measuring the break in the untempered glass.
One of the officers rose from a kneeling position and walked over. “We’re not one-hundred-percent certain, but it looks like someone broke in.” He gestured to what she hadn’t seen before. The hole in the glass was bigger than she’d realized.
“Could someone fit inside?” Sophie asked.
“Someone could, but not without great care and expertise or else they’d probably cut themselves. We’re dusting for prints and checking for bloodstains.”
Sophie gagged, a reflex she’d had since childhood. One that only showed up in situations that included bloodshed.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” The officer gestured to the window ledge. “We’ll let you know once you can go—”
“What in the dang hell is going on here?” Uncle Yank walked off the elevator, Spencer and Lola by his side, and Noodle in his arms. Not in front of him on a leash, the way a normal guide dog ought to be.
“We’ve had a break-in,” Sophie said, repeating the obvious.
Uncle Yank frowned. “I can see that.” He paused. “Well, I can’t exactly see everything but I can make out enough to know we got ourselves a problem.”
Noodle barked and wiggled to go free, probably sensing her owner’s distress.
Lola patted Noodle’s head in an effort to calm the pooch. Sophie thought she ought to be patting Uncle Yank’s head instead.
“Officer, what happened, exactly?” Spencer asked, stepping up to take charge. “I’m Spencer Atkins.”
The officer with the notepad nodded. “Your reputation in the sports world precedes you, Mr. Atkins. My nephew’s a fine baseball player. He’s hoping you’ll get him a contract like A-Rod or Jeter one day. He’d take you, too, Mr. Morgan.”
Sophie swallowed a laugh, relieved her uncle merely muttered beneath his breath instead of giving the man a hard time about how much better an agent he was than his partner.
Spencer grinned, his mind off the robbery at least for the moment. “How old is the boy?”
“Ten,” the cop said, laughing.
“You tell him if he practices, anything is possible.” Spencer turned, taking in the mess once more. “I can’t believe this happened. And it’s all my fault.”
The police officer tapped his pen against his pad. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s one of those guilty types, that’s why.” Uncle Yank patted his friend on the shoulder. “He’s got no good reason to say a thing like that.”
Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes steady on the officer’s. “If you already know who I am, then you must know about the recent scandal.”
The other man nodded.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Sophie said, jumping in before the cop could answer.
There was no reason for Spencer to discuss his private life with a stranger, even if that stranger was a law-enforcement officer. Spencer’s homosexuality was irrelevant and would only embarrass him here and now.
“They’re just trying to protect me,” Spencer insisted.
The young cop scratched his head. “From what? You folks are confusing me.”
Spencer groaned. “I think it’s possible that someone targeted our offices because it was recently revealed that I’m gay. Maybe one of our clients is angry or feels betrayed. I’m fully aware there are homophobic people out there, especially in the sports world. Nobody wants their own masculinity questioned because they’re associated with someone whose sexual preferences don’t match their own.”
Sophie ran a hand over her burning eyes. She hated that he’d take something as random as a robbery and place the blame on himself. He had enough problems right now. She stood and placed her hand on his arm. “Spencer, we haven’t lost any clients. No matter how you’re feeling, this idea of yours doesn’t make any sense.”
In her heart, she believed her own words. She wasn’t a Pollyanna but she refused to think anyone she or Athletes Only associated with would do something like this.
“I agree with Sophie,” Lola said. “The motive could be something as simple as robbery. Was anything taken?”
“We’ll know more once the guys tell me what they’ve found inside,” the first cop who’d spoken with Sophie said. “While they’re doing their job, I need to ask you
folks a couple of questions.”
Her uncle narrowed his gaze. “Oh, here we go. Focus on the good guys while the bad guys go free.” He raised his hand to poke the officer in the chest.
Good old Uncle Yank, doing his bit to divert attention from his best friend’s problems and creating more in the process, Sophie thought. Before she could dive between the older man and the cop, Lola stepped in.
She grabbed Yank’s offending finger. “Keep it up and I’ll break the other hip,” she said. Then she turned to the officers and offered them her most sincere smile. “You’ll have to excuse Yank. Between the break-in and the recent stress, he’s a little cranky.”
The younger man eased back, away from Yank and harm’s way. “I understand, ma’am. Nobody ever knows how to react to a violation like this one.”
“What do you need to know?” Sophie asked.
“Who would do something like this, for starters?” This question came from another man she hadn’t seen before. He had stepped over to join them. “I just came from inside. Nothing obvious looks taken. No major equipment is gone. Nothing ransacked. Well, except for the flowers in the office around the corner. Those were all trashed.”
Sophie stiffened. “My flowers were trashed? The ones in my office?”
The man scratched his head. “Is there another office loaded with more flowers than a cemetery?”
She merely shook her head.
“Then I guess that makes it your office. And it certainly rules out the gay-bashing theory. So any other ideas?” he asked, his focus directly on Sophie.
“I don’t know.” All she did know was that her life was completely out of control. First she’d been harassed last night and now this. She began to shake, trembling, unable to stop.
Her uncle wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay. We can talk about everything once you’ve calmed down.”
“Well, actually, it would help if we discussed possibilities now,” the cop said, “while everything’s still fresh. Has anything like this happened before?” He addressed Sophie.
“Hell, no!” Uncle Yank shouted. “If it had, I’d be the first to know.”
“Well actually, yes. Something unnerving happened last night,” Sophie said.
“What?” Uncle Yank asked.
“Where?” Lola demanded, her fear and concern etched in that one word.
“Why didn’t you call one of us?” Spencer asked.
Sophie ran a hand through her hair, pulling it out of its binding and not caring a bit. She turned to her well-meaning uncle, knowing how hard he’d take what she was about to say next.
“I don’t know where to begin. But even before last night, everything’s been wrong. All the flowers,” she said, her voice rising and the tension mounting as she thought of all she’d been through over the past few days. “That’s not normal. I mean, I don’t even know who sent over ninety-five percent of them. And the phone calls, the visits from total strangers. Men accosting me in the street. Does that sound okay?”
“Hell no, it isn’t okay. Nobody bothers my niece.” Uncle Yank straightened his shoulders, but he must have stiffened and squeezed the dog too tight, because she barked and Lola grabbed her out of his arms.
“Well, it’s your fault!” Sophie shouted, unable to control her frustration. “You did that damn interview. You plastered my picture on the news, advertising me as single and desperate.”
“Now, Sophie, Yank never said you were desperate.” Lola’s voice trailed off. “Never mind.” She waved her hand, dismissing her words. She obviously realized the futility in defending her incorrigible husband.
“Your uncle only wants what’s best for you, even if he does have a unique way of expressing himself,” Spencer said.
Uncle Yank bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I love you. Spencer’s right. I only wanted what was best for you.”
“That’s why you look familiar,” the first officer said to Sophie, snapping his fingers as things became clear. “I saw you on Dateline.”
“Lucky me. One of the major networks picked up on the story and all the desperate men of the world decided I was their patsy.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
She already had a headache and now she added fear to her problems. She was truly afraid of what this nutcase would do next, not that she’d tell her uncle as much and worry him more.
She reached out a hand and grabbed his forearm. “Look, I love you. I just want you to let me live my life in peace, the way I prefer it.”
He nodded. Sophie knew he understood and agreed—until this crisis passed and he picked up on his next bright idea.
“We’re going to need a list of everyone who sent you flowers. If you have the cards, we’ll take those. If not, just what you remember, including names and florists. We can run leads from there.”
“Okay. I can give you the cards as soon as you let me inside.” She’d make sure she handed over one man’s in particular, Sophie thought, recalling Steve Harris’s behavior last night. But she didn’t want to discuss that in front of her uncle. “The cards are in my desk,” she explained to the officer.
“She’s anal,” her uncle said proudly.
Sophie sighed.
“When you’re ready you can come down to the precinct and give a full statement. For now is there anything else you can think of? Anyone in the office you fired, anyone who might be suspect?”
Suspect? “None of our employees would do something like this.”
“She’s right,” her uncle said.
Nobody mentioned their competition in the industry, but Sophie couldn’t help wondering if Cambias had anything to do with the break-in. She still questioned his motives for dating Cindy, and immediately felt guilty for her thoughts.
Sophie couldn’t bring herself to mention her friend’s boyfriend to the police without talking to Cindy first. After all, what did she have to go on other than instinct and dislike?
“We did have that computer glitch,” Lola said. “And we never did track down the source of the so-called virus. Our tech guys are suspicious, but whoever hacked in was so good, they can’t prove a thing.”
The cop continued to take notes.
Lola’s words took Sophie by surprise. She hadn’t even considered that the computer issue could be related to this break-in.
“Miss Jordan, you never did tell me what happened last night,” the policeman said, reminding her.
Needing a minute to compose herself, she shut her eyes. Riley’s face appeared in front of her, full-blown, providing comfort, reminding her he’d cared for her after she’d been accosted outside the bar.
Envisioning Riley gave her the strength to tell her story. “I went to Quarters with some friends last night,” she began.
“You went where?” Uncle Yank yelled. “What was my niece doing in that pickup joint?”
Lola groaned. “He’s leaving,” she promised Sophie and the police. “We’ll wait over here.” She prodded him over to the window ledge where Sophie had sat earlier.
Sophie just wanted the inquisition over. She folded her arms over her chest. “A guy sent over a bottle of wine. I turned him down and then he sent a bottle of champagne. I realized then that he’d also sent flowers and chocolates from my favorite store.” She drew a deep breath before continuing. “I sent the champagne back, too. But when I left to hail a cab, he was waiting for me outside.” She shivered at the memory.
What would have happened if Riley hadn’t shown up to scare him away? Sophie had no doubt she could handle herself, but whether or not she could best a determined man much taller and heavier than her, well…
“I asked if you caught his name,” the officer said.
She nodded. “Steve Harris.”
“Good.” He nodded approvingly. “We’ll check into him. Maybe he’s a regular. If we’re lucky, a bartender or waitress knows him.”
He jotted down the information and shoved his pad into his shirt pocket. “I’ll follow it up and get ba
ck to you. In the meantime, the forensics guys will run the information they collected. I’d appreciate it if you came by at your earliest convenience, okay?”
“She’ll be there,” Uncle Yank called from down the hall.
The cop shot her a sympathetic look.
“I’ll come by,” she promised.
“Thank you.” The officer gestured to the rest of his team, who’d almost finished packing up. “We’ll be in touch, folks. And Ms. Jordan?”
She inclined her head. “Yes?”
“Try not to go out alone.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SOPHIE COULDN’T BEAR to remain in her office. The crews worked on fixing her door, which had also been broken, and cleaning up the broken glass. She headed for the small kitchenette, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the little table and chairs in the room.
“May an old man join you?” Spencer stepped inside and pulled out a chair.
She gestured for him to sit. “Since when do you go around calling yourself old?” she asked the handsome man.
“Since I started feeling that way.”
She wrapped her hands around the hot mug. “And would that have anything to do with the news hitting the papers?”
“Actually, it started when my son told me he wanted nothing to do with me.” He bowed his head in dismay.
Sophie sighed. “Are you upset because he wants you to keep your distance or because you finally realize what you put him through all those years?” she asked softly.
A smile lifted his lips. “You’re too smart for my own good,” he said, laughing.
“What can I say? It’s easier to figure out other people’s problems than my own.” She stared into the muddy coffee. Somebody had to teach Nicki how to measure coffee grounds before they overdosed on caffeine. “Spencer?”
“What’s on your mind?” His hazel eyes, so much like Riley’s, stared into hers.
“I owe you an apology.” She said what had been on her mind since she’d seen him at the police station in Florida. “I had no right to judge you or the decisions you made. I couldn’t begin to guess what you were feeling back then.”
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