Carly Phillips - Hot Item

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.

SINCE UNCLE YANK’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.

RILEY 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.