Hot Item

by Carly Phillips

  In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen this side of him. She wasn’t afraid of Riley, she never could be. But she’d obviously hit a tender nerve and though she didn’t understand, she desperately wanted to.

  “Go on.” Her words came out more like a croak.

  “Do you want to know where I was when I found out that the world knew Spencer Atkins is my father?”

  She blinked, waiting.

  “I was on my way to see you. Want to know why?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’d decided I was finished giving you time and space. I’d decided to lay it on the line and tell you that I love you.”

  His words hit her like a sucker punch in the stomach, hard and painful, and unexpected and sweet all at the same time. Her chest hurt as emotion and anxiety lodged there and remained.

  “I didn’t know. You never—”

  “Came around or told you.” He treated her to a grim smile. “In the disaster that followed, you left messages checking in on me.”

  She nodded again. “You never returned my calls.”

  “Because I realized that you only call or show up when things go wrong. When you can take control and do what Sophie Jordan does best—dig up the facts, tell people how to handle things and generally run the show—you’re a great sister and I bet you’re an even better friend.”

  He wasn’t exactly listing bad qualities. Confusion raced through her. “I don’t understand.”

  He tipped his head to the side and studied her. “The thing is, I don’t need another friend. I love you, Sophie Jordan. But I want the person I love to be by my side in good times and in bad. I don’t want someone who shows up to lend a shoulder and who runs away from things that feel too good.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You do,” he said emphatically. “You most certainly do run away any time you think I’ve gotten too close.” He slowly stepped closer, invading her space.

  She couldn’t breathe as it was, but now when she inhaled she was overcome by his scent, by all that was Riley, and was forced to admit to herself she loved him, too.

  She just couldn’t say the words out loud, fear pummeling her from all sides. And the more he spoke, the more she realized he knew her better than she knew herself.

  He placed an arm against the wall above her head. “You lost your parents and you cope by controlling things around you, but here’s the kicker. You can’t control love. And that scares you so badly you’re willing to walk away from a damn good thing before I leave you first. Or before, on the off chance, something happens and I die on you. Just as your parents did,” he said, his voice softening, melting her defenses and breaking her heart.

  Tears filled her eyes and she didn’t bother to wipe them away, nor could she summon a reply for Riley. She didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him because he was so dead-on accurate it was scary.

  Cindy had said much the same things, but coming from a friend, it had sounded like psychobabble. Coming from the man who was causing all the emotional turmoil gave it that much more impact.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to return the sentiment.” His eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and disappointment at the same time. “But that’s my whole point. You can’t say the words. Hell, I don’t even know if you can feel them.” He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it spiked and disheveled.

  “That’s unfair.” Sophie trembled, unable to believe the depths to which this conversation had gone. “I didn’t even know how you felt before now.”

  “Would it have mattered?” He set his jaw, his mind obviously already made up.

  She looked inside her heart and asked that same question. Would it have mattered? Could she commit to him even now that she knew he was in love with her? Could she give him the words he wanted to hear, knowing she was in love with him, too?

  She swallowed hard and met his gaze, the fear of losing him all-consuming. But the fear of committing to someone and not knowing exactly what would come next was too overwhelming for her to contemplate.

  She reached out and touched his cheek, as she answered his question in the most honest way she could. “Probably not,” she said, ducking beneath his arm and running from his apartment far and fast. Running from him and everything he made her feel.

  SPENCER ARRIVED at The Waldorf Astoria hotel for his meeting with Senator Harlan Nash. He wasn’t early. He wasn’t fashionably late. He was exactly on time. He didn’t know if he should be thanking Yank or wanting to murder him for encouraging—or more like forcing him—to set up this appointment.

  He knocked on the door and the other man promptly answered and let him inside. There was no need for a formal “hello” or “how are you.”

  Spencer settled into a seat in the spacious outer room of the suite.

  “Drink?” Senator Nash asked.

  “Whiskey,” Spencer said.

  “I think I’ll join you.” The senator poured them each a shot and then sat, sliding Spencer’s glass toward him on the table by the couch.

  When they both had their drinks in hand, they stared each other down until, finally, Spencer had had enough. “Can we agree on one thing? That we both have Riley’s best interest at heart?”

  Harlan nodded. “We always have.”

  “And for all these years, you’ve done my job,” Spencer admitted. “You raised my son to be a damn fine man and for that I owe you.” The words didn’t come easily, but they were long overdue.

  “Before you go on, there’s something you should know.” Harlan rose and paced the carpeted floor. “This news leak was the last thing I needed in my career. And public humiliation is the last thing I wanted for my family.”

  Spencer nodded. “It’s been no picnic for me, either,” he muttered. “And if you think I stayed out of my son’s life all these years only to have him find out anyway, you’d be sadly mistaken.”

  The senator paused and turned to face Spencer. “Then you’d understand if I told you I would have done almost anything to ensure the news never came out.”

  Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the burn of the whiskey as it traveled down his throat before replying. “Your point?” Spencer finally asked, unwilling to let this powerful man think he was rattled or thrown by either their meeting or whatever the senator had to say.

  Although Spencer had called for this meeting, the other man had agreed readily and obviously had an agenda of his own. Which was fine with Spencer, since he hadn’t let the other man in on what he wanted out of this talk. Not yet, anyway.

  “What we say tonight never leaves this room,” Harlan said, his words more a command than a question.

  Spencer nodded. “Agreed, although I have to wonder why you’d take me at my word.”

  The other man downed his drink and poured himself another. “Because you’re Riley’s flesh and blood and anything said here tonight can only hurt him. Since you spent a lifetime making certain that never happened, I have no choice but to trust you now.”

  “You mean since I spent a lifetime staying away from him?”

  Harlan nodded. “I can’t imagine you’d waste all those years of doing the right thing just to get back at me.”

  Spencer exhaled hard. “No more games, Senator.”

  “In November I have an election against a tough opponent. I needed every edge I could find against a man who isn’t afraid to fight dirty,” Harlan said, beginning to explain at last. “When the news broke about your lifestyle,” he said choosing a diplomatic term, “the last thing I needed was someone making the connection between you and my family.”

  Spencer nodded. “So far I’m following you.”

  “I also knew Riley had tracked you down and extracted a promise that you wouldn’t suddenly decide that with one secret revealed it was time to let the rest of the skeletons out of the closet and admit he was your son.” The senator shoved his hands into his front pants pockets and stared vacantly, his mind obviously preoccupied with telling his tale.

  He
’d certainly captured Spencer’s interest. “Something tells me my word wasn’t enough.”

  Harlan let out a harsh laugh. “Not in that particular case. I needed you too preoccupied to even think about bonding with your son or talking to the media.”

  Spencer narrowed his gaze. “So you…”

  “Paid someone to sabotage you. Nothing that would destroy your business for good. Just a little something to keep you busy.”

  Realization dawned at once, anger surging up like bile in his throat. “The computer crash? The break-in? The camera in Sophie’s bathroom?”

  “The camera was a dud, but you must admit all those things gave you little time to think about your personal life or any desire to reconcile with Riley.” The senator raised an eyebrow, obviously pleased with his success.

  Spencer clenched his hands around the glass. “You have brass balls, Senator.”

  “I do what I need to in order to survive.”

  “Tell me something. After the draft, things quieted down. Weren’t you worried that maybe I’d have time then to think about renewing my connection to my only child?”

  Harlan nodded slowly. “I certainly did. I also knew I was out of options since there was nothing else I could do to stop it, should that be what you desired—nothing except talk to you man-to-man, which I had every intention of doing. Unfortunately the story broke anyway, thanks to Lizzie, and so here we are.” He tipped his glass, tapping it against Spencer’s.

  Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d come here to make a demand of the senator, one he’d thought would cause a war between them. Instead he’d been handed the keys to his own personal kingdom, Spencer thought.

  “Do you realize that you’re behind a felony?” Spencer asked.

  “Only if you can prove it. And so far the NYPD has been unable to find any leads.”

  The man’s smugness turned Spencer’s stomach, but he forced himself to remain calm.

  “Sophie’s been petrified,” Spencer said through clenched teeth, unable to hide his anger. “Her uncle walks the floor at night on his bad hip, concern for her eating him alive.” He leaned forward in his seat. “And Riley’s been worried sick about her.”

  Guilt etched Harlan’s features for the first time this evening. “I’m sure you can see why you wouldn’t want Riley to know I was behind these things.” The sound of the senator grinding his teeth sounded loudly in the room.

  “Just why did you reveal your role to me?” Spencer asked.

  Harlan splayed his hands outward. “Because the guilt was getting to me,” he admitted. “And because I want you to convince the police to drop the investigation.”

  Spencer eyed the other man warily. As a politician, Harlan was obviously skilled at hiding his emotions when dictating his will. So Spencer was glad to see that the man who’d raised his son had some remorse for his actions.

  He was also glad to be handed the opportunity for a little quid pro quo. “I want something in return for my silence,” Spencer said.

  Harlan didn’t need to know that Spencer would never hurt Riley by filling him in on his stepfather’s actions. Riley admired the man and loved him like a real father. He deserved nothing less.

  “What do you want?” the senator asked.

  Spencer rose from his seat, going toe-to-toe with the senator for the first time. “I want you to give me free rein to mend the rift with my son.” He spoke past the emotion lodged in his throat. “I can never be the parent you’ve been, nor would I ever try. And I would not undermine your role in his life. You’ve been everything to the boy and that’s as it should be even now.”

  The senator eyed him with a mixture of admiration and wariness. “Anything else?”

  Spencer nodded. “Should Riley come to you or to Anne, I want you to voice your approval aloud. He values your judgment and he wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt you. If he thinks getting to know me will bother you, he’ll back off.”

  “Riley’s his own man. He makes his own choices,” Harlan warned. “I won’t sway him if he wants to maintain his distance.”

  “All I ask is that you not discourage him.”

  Harlan slowly nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He extended his hand and Spencer shook it, feeling lighter than he had in years.

  Despite Harlan’s underhanded dealings, Spencer would walk away with a weight lifted off his shoulders, because before him now lay the potential for a reconciliation with his son.

  “Atkins?” Harlan’s voice stopped him just as Spencer reached the hotel-room door.

  “Yes?”

  “This Sophie Jordan woman, is she any good for my—for our son?” Harlan asked.

  Spencer turned around, a smile on his face for the first time all night. “There’s no better,” he assured the senator.

  He neglected to mention that she was as stubborn as they came with walls a mile high and pain buried deep. Spencer had his doubts even Riley could get through to her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  RILEY STRAIGHTENED his bow tie and held the door open for his date. Together they walked through the ballroom doors leading to Lola and Yank Morgan’s belated wedding reception. Riley had thought long and hard about whether or not to attend. He had more reasons to bail than to show up—from being in the same room with Atkins to facing Sophie for the first time since she ran out on him. But he had one major reason to come. Riley Nash had never run from a confrontation or situation in his life and he wasn’t about to do so now.

  But he’d opted not to arrive alone. “You ready, beautiful?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Riley glanced into his daughter’s eyes. Despite all the turmoil of the past few weeks—or maybe because of it—he’d never been as proud of Lizzie as he was lately. First, she’d owned up to her mistake and seemed to really understand how widespread the repercussions of her actions were. She hadn’t just betrayed a confidence, she’d potentially affected her grandfather’s career. Although she couldn’t undo the telling of the secret, she was trying to behave in a more mature way.

  She’d also agreed to therapy. Weekly sessions with a psychologist to help her deal with her anger and her issues. There was the occasional family session thrown in for good measure, which didn’t thrill Riley, but he’d do anything for his daughter.

  They walked inside arm in arm. Riley didn’t immediately see the guests of honor, nor did he catch a glimpse of the Jordan sisters or his errant father.

  He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “How about a drink?” he asked Lizzie. “Want a Shirley Temple?”

  “Da-a-a-d!” she said, appalled.

  He winked and refrained from ruffling her professionally blow-dried hair. “Can’t blame a father for trying to keep his best girl a little girl.”

  He leaned against the bar and when the attendant looked his way, Riley said, “Two Cokes, please.” No reason to drink with Lizzie around and every reason to keep his wits about him tonight.

  “I wasn’t sure whether you’d make it tonight,” a familiar voice said.

  Riley waited for the drinks, handed one to Lizzie and turned slowly to face his real father. “I wasn’t sure myself,” he admitted.

  Considering this was the first time the two men had been in the same room together since being publicly outed as father and son, Riley tried not to squirm under the other man’s obvious scrutiny.

  “May I say that I’m glad you’re here?” Spencer asked.

  “You can say whatever you want.” Riley had been about to add, It’s a free country, when he noticed Lizzie’s wide-eyed stare.

  She’d obviously caught the undercurrents between the two men and Riley knew she’d seen the pictures in the newspaper of Riley and Spencer side by side. No question, Lizzie was aware that this man was Riley’s real father.

  At that moment, Riley realized he had a choice. He could walk away, as his gut instinct told him to do, or he could stay and talk to Spencer Atkins, as his rapidly beating heart was asking him to do. He c
ould show his daughter that the solution to difficult situations was to run away or he could teach her to stand tall and face her fears.

  “Can I order you a drink?” Riley asked the older man. As an olive branch, it wasn’t much, but it was the best Riley could do under the circumstances.

  “No, thank you.” Spencer shook his head, but relief flickered in his eyes. He’d probably been expecting something along the lines of a brush-off and cold shoulder, Riley thought.

  But then Riley would lose the chance of getting to know his real father, even for a few brief minutes. Now that their connection was known, no more harm could come to Harlan’s career.

  He was forced to acknowledge the fact that he had many questions to ask Spencer and little time. Unless he took a step toward opening up to his father. Then perhaps the other man would meet him halfway. Stranger things had happened lately, Riley thought. And he had just the icebreaker with which to begin.

  Riley cleared his throat. “Elizabeth, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He wrapped his arm around Lizzie’s waist, pulling her close. “Spencer Atkins, this is your granddaughter, Elizabeth. We call her Lizzie.” Riley smiled, unable to contain his pride in the young woman she was becoming. “Lizzie, this is…” He stammered over his choice of words.

  “I’m Spencer Atkins,” the other man said, helping Riley out. “I’m—”

  “My grandfather,” Lizzie said. “Well, one of my grandfathers. I already have Grandpa Harlan.”

  “I’m hoping you have room for one more.”

  “Sure,” Lizzie said, and shrugged, as if all this blended, extended family stuff was commonplace.

  In her life, Riley supposed it was.

  “Well, good. But a beautiful girl like you can call me whatever you like,” Spencer said, grinning.

  “Watch out,” Riley warned. “Give her an opening like that and you just might hang yourself.” Riley couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Hey! I’m not that bad. Give me some credit!” Lizzie said, blushing.

  “This from the girl who’s just now working her way back into everyone’s good graces? I think there’s someone else you should apologize to for spilling the beans.” Suddenly he was no longer thirsty. Riley placed his untouched glass back on the bar and waited for his daughter’s defiant outburst.