Hot Zone Series 1. Hot Stuff 2. Hot Number 3. Hot Item  Excerpt 4. Hot Property Excerpt ... Prologue ank Morgan leaned back in his favorite chair and puffed on a Montecristo cigar. Damn, life was good. As good as it could be with his three nieces sick with colds and too quiet for his peace of mind. He'd been caring for them since their parents died in a plane crash a little over a year ago and he'd done his best to maintain normalcy for them and for himself. Hence his weekly poker night with the guys. "Hey, Morgan. You folding or what?" Curly asked. "Depends on your hand." Curly glanced at his cards and rubbed his hand over his bald head, a sure sign the man's hand sucked. "What the hell. I'm in." "Me too." Spencer Atkins, Yank's friend and business rival, tossed his bet onto the pile of chips in the center of the table and pulled on a long drag of his cigar. "Better not inhale," a small female voice warned. Yank frowned and turned to the doorway. His middle niece, Sophie stood in her flannel nightgown and glared, arms folded across her chest. "You're supposed to be resting," Yank said. She shrugged. "My nose is stuffed. I want Lola," she said, speaking of his assistant and one time lover, not that any of the girls knew that last part. Lola was the only female influence the girls had. Yank didn't discourage their relationship. But the woman complicated his life to no end and reminded him of their once hot affair. He had his hands full with three little women. He didn't need a fourth female makin' demands on his time and forcing him to give up the important things. Things like cigars and poker. "Can I call her, Uncle Yank? Please?" Sophie asked. "Yeah can she call her?" Spencer asked, laughing. "As if you'd say no. It's no hardship having that beautiful woman around twentyfour-seven, is it, Morgan?" Yank scowled. "Take some aspirin instead." "Aspirin's no good for children. There's a new study out that shows it can cause something called Rheyes syndrome. Lola would know that," Sophie said in an accusing tone. He groaned. "You wanna call her, call her. Just make sure she knows I'm tied up with the boys." Sophie rolled her eyes. "She knows. Everyone knows Tuesday night's poker night." Sophie ran over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Uncle Yank. I promise not to bother you again." He hugged the little girl tight. "You never bother me." She clasped her hands behind her back. "You mean that?" she asked in a serious voice, one too old for her eleven years. Losing parents did that to kids, Yank had learned. Annabelle, the oldest, had taken over the motherly role whenever Lola wasn't around, bossing her sisters and making sure everyone behaved. Micki, the youngest, tagged along with him everywhere he went, never giving him time or space to breath, obviously afraid if she did, he'd run away and never return. And Sophie lost herself in books as if she could escape into another world. But she also used the knowledge she learned to try and control everyone and everything around her. Yank figured she thought if she orchestrated life, she wouldn't lose people around her the way she lost her parents. When had he turned into a damn shrink, he wondered. "Go," he said softly. "The sooner you call Lola, the sooner you'll get some sleep." She nodded. "Okay." She ran out of the room and he heard her chattering on the phone from the kitchen. "Sorry," he muttered. "Let's get back to business." Spencer lifted his glass and took a sip of the whiskey Yank kept in the bar. "Son of a bitch. I'm out." With a scowl, he folded his hand. "I'll just have a smoke and watch Yank take the rest of you suckers for all you're worth." A few hands later, Spencer reached toward his right where he always kept his cigar and narrowed his gaze. "Winning's not enough for you, Morgan? You have to stoop to stealing Stogies for fun?" Yank tossed his cards onto the table. "I take offense to the implication. I'm winnin' fair and square. I didn't take your damn cigar. Maybe you're getting old and you forgot whether or not you lit one." Curly rose to his feet. "Come on, boys. We don't need to fight amongst ourselves. Spence here can have my cigar. If my wife smells it on me she'll douse me with kerosene and light a match." He glanced down. "Hey wait a second ..." Yank winced. "Yours is gone too?" he asked, a sneaking suspicion dawning. The other man nodded. "Mel?" Yank turned to the fourth man. "Mine's gone too." Yank groaned. "Sophia Francesca Jordan!" he bellowed. "Get in here now." "You don't have to yell, Uncle Yank. I'm right here." Sophie's voice sounded from beneath the card table. The little sneak. How had she gotten underneath there so quickly, he wondered. She tried to stand too soon and bumped her head. "Ouch!" Finally she stood in front of him, guilt written all over her little face. Her cheeks were pink and her blue eyes too wide and innocent. "Give the boys back their cigars," Yank demanded. Her eyes filled with tears. "But ..." "Don't tell me you didn't take them. What else would you be doing sneaking 'round under there?" She shook her head. "I wasn't going to say that." "What were you going to say?" Spencer asked in a surprisingly kind voice considering he'd nearly strung Yank up alive for stealing his cigar. Faced with the midget culprit, his tone gentled as it always did around Sophie. He had a soft spot for the middle kid. Sophie clasped her hands behind her long flannel nightgown. "The Surgeon General says smokings bad for your health. It'll turn your lungs black and clog your arties." "Arteries, doofus," Annabelle said, walking in from the doorway. "Sorry, Uncle Yank. I fell asleep and forgot to watch her. It won't happen again." She grabbed her sister's hand and pulled, trying to drag her from the room. "Stop," Sophie whined. "I'm right and they all know it." "It doesn't matter. They're guys and guys smoke." Now the third Musketeer chimed in. Micki surprised them all by walking in from the kitchen. In her hand, she held the ash tray with all the men's cigars. "Hey, it took a long time for me to collect those without them noticing," Sophie said. "But they weren't yours to take." Annabelle walked around the room, handing each man a used cigar. In all likelihood nobody got the right smoke and Yank cringed. "I think it's time to call it a night." "If Lola had come, none of this would have happened," Annabelle said. "She'd have kept Sophie busy in the kitchen. "If Lola had come, she'd be sprayin' Lysol around all our heads," Yank muttered. "That's not nice, Uncle Yack." Micki smacked him on the shoulder with her little hand. "See?" he said to his friends. "This is why I won't git married ever. I already got three little women telling me what to do." Curly shook his head. "Bad attitude. It's more like with three little girls. No woman in her right mind would have you." "Except Lola and Yank's not bright enough to know a good thing when he's got one," Spencer said with a laugh. "This from someone who's already got one divorce under his belt." Sophie pulled the sleeve of Spencer's sweater. "Really? You were married? To who? When? How?" "None of your business, little girl." He softened his words by patting her on the head. "Like that'll satisfy her. Sophie needs to know all details about all things." "What'd she look like? Why'd she leave? Or did you leave?" Yank chuckled. At least she'd stopped harassing them about the cigars. Though given Sophie's inquisitive nature and need to control everything and everyone around her, he should probably lock up the Cubans. Heaven help the man who had to deal with her when she grew up. Chapter One "According to a reliable source, top sports agent Spencer Atkins, of the recently merged firm Athletes Only and its subsidiary PR firm The Hot Zone, is gay." Sophie Jordan read the line in the most prominent New York City gossip column aloud and groaned. How would the players Spencer represented react to the news? How would Spencer handle being outed not of his own free will? But most importantly, how in the world had this secret come out now, well over a month after she and her family had learned the news for the first time? In the time since they'd learned the truth, Spencer's "outing" had been put aside in favor of more pressing projects—the merger of Yank and Spencer's sports agencies and the all important spin, letting people know that "we're better and stronger than ever". Enough time had passed that even Sophie who normally covered all bases, however unlikely, had dismissed the possibility of the story being leaked. "Guess I thought wrong," she muttered. Sophie hated being wrong. It meant she'd miscalculated and the feeling sent her spiraling into an anxious frenzy, the only solution to which was regaining her precious control. Problem was, Sophie, who shined behind the scenes, didn't see any way to find her center. She couldn't hide behind books or To Do Lists now. She couldn't even push her sisters to the forefront of the storm and handle things in the background. Chaos reigned and she was the only one available to handle the media mess sure to follow. Annabelle was home on maternity leave with her baby girl, Sydney, and Micki was on her honeymoon with Damian Fuller, her retired center fielder husband. Their receptionist had called in sick, the temp agency still hadn't sent anyone over to cover and the phones were ringing off the hook. She glanced at the flashing switchboard behind the reception desk and envisioned the many messages on voicemail, the reporters asking for confirmation of the story and the players they represented who were thrown into panic because the status quo they understood had been shattered. She didn't want to believe they'd turn against Spencer because of his sexual orientation. Her family felt no differently about Spencer upon hearing the news. But knowing human nature and athletes in particular, Sophie expected a difficult transition period anyway. Anxiety and upheaval were things Sophie understood all too well. In the last few months, her life had drastically changed by her sisters marriages, followed by Uncle Yank and Lola's reunion, leaving Sophie as the odd woman out. Lola had taken over dealing with Uncle Yank's macular degeneration and post surgical physical therapy for his broken hip. Without someone else's issues to focus on, Sophie had been left at loose ends. Add to that the merger of Atkins Associates and The Hot Zone, and life as she knew it had been blown to bits. Normal was nowhere to be found. So yes, she could relate to the players being in a panic over the new status quo. They, like Sophie, would just need to adapt to the notion of change. As if willing it could make it so. She shook her head. If adapting were simple, Sophie wouldn't be feeling so lost and out of control right now. She glanced at her watch and realized it was already ten A.M. Where in the world was the man of the day? Spencer always arrived at the office punctually at nine. It was one of the things she could count on in her suddenly crazy world. His prompt nature and conservative ways were a part of what Sophie enjoyed about him. She could relate to his methodical means of coping with life, which were much like her own. From the time she'd moved in with Uncle Yank, she and Spencer had had a father daughter type of connection. He'd always given her the attention and respect that often got lost within her own family, thanks to her being in the middle of Annabelle, her oldest vibrant sister and Micki, the youngest sibling who seemed to fit right into Uncle Yank's athletic life. "Ms. Jordan?" Sophie glanced up to see a woman standing before her. She had to be in her early twenties and by her tentative expression, definitely not wizened in the ways of business. "Yes, I'm Sophie. Please tell me you're from the Helping Hands Temp Agency?" The brunette nodded. "My first day actually. I'm Nicki Fielding." "Nice to meet you." Sophie swallowed over her disappointment in being right since she could use an experienced receptionist. "As long as you can answer the phones, say no comment until The Hot Zone is ready to issue a statement, and take messages, you'll do just fine." "No computer work?" the girl asked. "Not today, you won't have time." Sophie lightly prodded her towards the front desk where the telephone still rang, the lines lighting up like fireflies and prayed Raine would get over the flu soon. "Okay, the main desk is covered," she said aloud. "Now I can move on to the next order of business." Spencer. Just where was he? She dialed his home number, but his answering machine picked up immediately. She tried his cell phone next but it went right to voice mail. She pursed her lips. It wasn't like him not to check in if he was going to be late. Had the media leak sent him temporarily underground? She worried about how he'd handle the public and the press and she was concerned about his mental state. After all, he'd kept this secret for a lifetime. He'd always been vague about his prior marriage. She remembered asking him about it when she was a little girl. She'd never received a straight reply and now Sophie understood why. He must be in a panic now. Sophie knew she had to find him and soon. In addition to being someone she looked up to and respected, he was a close friend of the family and had been for years, even before the merger. He'd never let business rivalry affect his friendship with Uncle Yank and he'd been there for Lola when she thought things were over with Yank for good. It was time the family returned the favor even if Sophie was the only family member around to do just that. She looked forward to the challenge and not just because helping Spencer spin his life story to the press would give Sophie something to think about besides being alone and uncertain of what turn her life would take next. Although she had to admit the diversion had merit. No, Spencer Atkins was a good man with a good heart. He'd weather this "coming out" with Sophie representing the absent Hot Zone family members. He deserved nothing less. # Spencer Atkins deserved a swift kick in the ass, Riley Nash thought and tossed the newspaper across the den in disgust. What started as a mention in a gossip column had escalated to the back page of all the major New York newspapers. Big time sports agent Spencer Atkins was gay. Who knew? Not his only son, that's for sure. Riley shook his head. What a sham his life had been. He'd always known who his biological father was even if he'd been legally adopted by the man whose name he bore. Senator Harlan Nash of Ellisburg, Mississippi. A right wing conservative with aspirations of living in the White House. A man whose constituents wouldn't be happy to know the Senator's wife had been married to a gay sports agent—and that Senator Nash had raised the man's son. Riley groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Spencer Atkins and his mother had parted ways while his mother was pregnant. She'd met Harlan Nash while she was going through her divorce and from what Riley understood, it'd been caring at first sight for Anne, love for Harlan. He'd married Riley's mother knowing she was pregnant with another man's child and raised him like his own. Harlan could be controlling and dictatorial with his staff and on occasion with his family, but no one could fault him for his goals, his drive ... or for his heart. Over the years, his mother had grown to love her husband deeply. Having grown up in Mississippi, Riley wasn't fond of his step-father's politics and knew the political climate in his hometown was anti-gay marriage. The recent polls had proven the point. Riley wasn't fond of the narrow minded view or his stepfather's politics, but he loved the man and he wasn't about to see him hurt by something that was beyond his control. Riley's mother, Anne, had always suggested he tuck the knowledge of Spencer's parentage away and do nothing with it, but Riley had been curious. Even more so when he realized what his real dad did for a living. A natural athlete from day one, Riley desperately craved the man's approval and acknowledgment and he'd tried hard to get it. As a kid, Riley thought once Spencer saw his son's talent in the other man's chosen field, Spencer reach out to him. Yet despite being a junior high and high school quarterback, despite trophies, awards, write ups in the local papers, too many to count in fact, nothing about Riley had ever captured Spencer Atkins' attention. He never answered Riley's letters or returned his calls. Still, he had his father in mind as he played QB for Boston College and won the Heisman. With no reply to his request that Spencer represent him, Riley was the first round draft pick with Yank Morgan as his agent. Still nothing from his old man. He'd taken that silence as the final slap. Once Riley accepted that the man would never publicly acknowledge him as his son, he told himself he didn't care. If the man didn't want anything from Riley, Riley didn't need a damn thing from him. He no longer worried about what other people thought of him and had carried the same attitude over into his life, doing things his way. Riley had started his career with Greenbay and hoped to end it where he played now, with the New York Giants. He was a good enough player to get away with coloring outside the lines, something his coaches and his agent accepted and understood because as much as he looked out for number one, he looked out for his team as well. Looking back at the path he'd chosen and the reasons behind it, Riley realized it was a damn good thing he loved his profession. Otherwise he'd have wasted his life in pursuit of a fantasy reunion. As today's headlines proved, Riley didn't know a damn thing about who Spencer Atkins was or what he wanted. He only knew what Atkins wanted the world to see. So in addition to being an absent disinterested parent, Atkins could now add liar to his impressive resume. "Way to go, Pop," Riley muttered under his breath. "Did you say something?" Julia, a beautiful red head who'd spent the night in his bed, strode in from the other room. He'd been so caught off guard by the news in the paper, he'd all but forgotten Julia was waiting in the bedroom. Coming up beside him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss against his cheek. "What's going on? Why didn't you come back to bed?" She eased her body into his lap. "Nothing important." He turned to kiss her full on the lips, running his hand over her breasts. His body responded immediately, assuring him he was nothing like his old man. His old man who he only knew about from stories his mother had told him when he was a kid. They'd broken up because they were incompatible, she'd said. They wanted different things out of life. Those once vague words began to make more sense now. Had his mother known about Spencer all along? Had she found out during their marriage? Or was she discovering the truth now over her morning coffee, along with the rest of the world? Suddenly Julia rose to her feet. "Your mind's somewhere else," she chided softly. "Yeah." He glanced down, unable to deny the obvious. "Well I really need to get back to the hotel anyway. My plane leaves at Noon." Julia was a flight attendant who traveled the world and sometimes called Riley when she came to New York. Sometimes not. The arrangement worked well since Riley had an irregular schedule thanks to his joint custody arrangement with his ex-wife. His thirteen year old daughter, Elizabeth, came first on his list of priorities. Yet another way he was nothing like the man who hadn't raised him. He followed Julia back into the bedroom. She strode over to the bed, unaffectedly naked and began picking up her clothes. "Did I tell you Jacques asked me to marry him?" She casually tossed the news his way. He raised an eyebrow, not surprised the words didn't elicit a reaction one way or another. He enjoyed Julia but he wasn't in love with her. "Then how come I don't see a ring?" he asked lightly. She shrugged. "I told him I'd think about it." She pulled her shirt over her head, the spandex molding to her near perfect curves. "I'm getting tired of the traveling, the hotel rooms. It's lonely. I could give up my career and not look back," she admitted. Riley nodded. "I hear you. There comes a time everyone has to make choices." He paused and met her gaze. "I take it this is . . . was good bye, then?" She nodded. "I couldn't say yes without telling you. And besides I thought we deserved one last time together." She treated him to a smile. An easy parting, he thought thankfully. He'd been blessed that way. Even his short marriage to Lisa had ended amicably and they'd never argued over custody or money, mainly because as the mother of his child, he'd denied her nothing and even increased her monthly payments as his career soared. Just a case of marrying too young and expecting too little. Similar to his own parents, or so he'd always thought. Once again he caught himself wondering about Spencer Atkins. Had Spencer's marriage been a ruse? An attempt to live a so called normal life? Had Riley been conceived out of love as he'd been told by his mother or as the unfortunate result of a lie on the part of his father? So many questions. He wished he didn't give a damn but Riley could no longer deny his curiosity. And if he wanted to know more, so would the reporters who'd gotten wind of this story. They'd dig and dig deep. They'd find his mother's marriage certificate with Spencer Atkins on file and they'd discover that she'd had a child. In no time the scandal would reach his step father who was running for the Unite States Senate as a representative of the great state of Mississippi. A lifetime's worth of hard work and dedication, and aspirations of living in the White House would go down the drain. Riley wouldn't let that happen. Of course he'd be a liar if he said he didn't have some self interest at stake too. If the press found out the relationship between Riley and Atkins, Riley's life in the locker room would be a living hell. The guys would question his masculinity and not even his marriage and kid would save him. Like father, like son the guys would say. Riley could hold his own with his teammates and he knew the scandal would blow over with time, but his teenage daughter didn't need the hassle from the fallout. Riley shook his head at the irony. A lifetime of wishing the man would acknowledge him and now it was the last thing he needed. His best option was to reach Spencer before the media did and convince him not to talk. Which shouldn't be a stretch for a man who'd made silence an art form. Frustration filled Riley over the need to turn to Spencer Atkins for anything, but he reminded himself that it wasn't his own needs driving him. This time he'd be making the effort for his parents, the people who loved and raised him and for his daughter. And he was determined to be a better parent to her than Atkins had been to him. The time had come for father and son to meet face to face at last. # Three days had passed and Spencer was officially MIA. Sophie paced her office, wearing a path in the plush carpeting which she'd discovered was twenty five steps from the window overlooking the East River to the bathroom in the far corner. Back and forth, back and forth, but no matter how far she walked, the reality never changed. The football draft was three weeks away and Spencer Atkins had taken off for parts unknown. John Cashman, this year's Heismann winner and almost newly signed client, was calling hourly to speak with Spencer or Yank. Yank's cruise made him unavailable and the younger agents weren't appeasing Cashman with their answers. Sophie's palms sweat over the athlete's last threat. If he didn't speak to Spencer by the end of the week, he'd sign with The Cambias Agency. Their number one competition, mainly because the newer, hungrier agents had no loyalty or scruples beyond the almighty dollar. Whereas Uncle Yank and Spencer inspired loyalty and cared about their clients' long term future, Cambias only saw dollar signs in his bank account. But a young, healthy starry eyed kid who'd never been injured or faced the end of his career wouldn't appreciate the experience Spence and Uncle Yank brought to the table. And at the moment, he wasn't listening to anything Sophie or the other agents had to say. The dog she was babysitting stared from the place she'd adopted as her own. Noodle, Uncle Yank's Labradoodle carelessly lounged on the client-designated chair. When not rolling over onto her back for a belly rub, she licked herself in unmentionable places. Thank God Annabelle's neighbor was watching her pet Coton deTulier, Boris or Q-Tip as her husband Vaughn liked to call the white ball of fluff. They'd discovered the two dogs liked to compete for attention and affection and somebody's floor ended up messed as a result. Sophie could only handle cleaning up after one animal at a time. Which was why she steered clear of professional athletes, she thought, giving herself her first real laugh of the day. A laugh she desperately needed. With all the recent marriages, honeymoons, Annabelle's pregnancy and being the only one in charge here at the office, Sophie had never felt so alone. It was a state she'd judiciously avoided since her parents' died and she'd discovered that by understanding everything around her, she could assert more control over life. Some called her anal. She figured she was smart. And being smart, she couldn't let the chaos seep into the agency too. Yesterday she'd received a handwritten note from Spencer, postmarked from New York. Laying low, back in time for draft. As if that would pacify John Cashman. She walked over to the chalk board she kept with everyone's schedules marked on it. All active clients on the sports side were divided among the agency representatives. She'd doled out the PR to the new people she and her sisters had hired in the last few months, opting to leave the handling of Spencer's situation for herself. So far she'd avoided the media because she wasn't ready to give a statement without talking to the man in question, which made her handling things alone somewhat easier. Still, the draft players represented by Yank and Spencer exclusively were antsy. Spencer was supposed to be holding down the fort and he'd taken off for parts unknown with no forwarding number or address. She picked up the phone and buzzed Spencer's personal secretary, a woman named Frannie who'd worked for him for years. Even pre-merger, when Lola had quit working for Yank and turned to Spencer, she'd been more of an overall administrative assistant. Frannie ran Spencer's life. "Frannie, this is Sophie. Can you bring me a list of all places Spencer has vacationed in the last few years along with the phone numbers of any relatives he normally speaks to?" "Not a problem, but I don't think he'd contact those people or go to any place so simple that the press could find him easily." Sophie sighed. "I know you're right but I have to do something. Otherwise I'll lose my mind. How's it going with Cashman?" "I told him Spencer was due to call, we just didn't know when, and as soon as we heard from him, he'd hear from us. And I made him promise not to do something stupid in the meantime." Sophie tried to breathe steadily so she didn't get light headed and pass out. "I don't trust him or Cambias but it's the best we've got for now. Thanks, Frannie." "Hang in there, honey. I'll get those names to you as soon as I can." Frannie disconnected. No sooner had Sophie hung up the phone when someone knocked on her door. Obviously her secretary wasn't sitting at her desk to intercept him. Lori did her work but enjoyed her coffee breaks more. "Come in," Sophie called out, hoping this was good news for a change. She turned to greet her visitor and knew immediately she was in deep trouble. Cliched trouble in a black leather jacket, razor stubble on his handsome face and a reputation that preceded him. Although Sophie and The Hot Zone had never handled Riley Nash's publicity, he'd been a client of her uncle's too long for her not to know him. He made his presence known each time he came to the office and whenever she saw him, the temperature inside Sophie's suits soared. He oozed raw male sexuality. Her body knew it and responded to it despite her brain's warnings to ignore the man. Normally her brain listened to whatever Sophie's analytical mind dictated but not when it came to Riley Nash. As partners in The Hot Zone, Sophie and her siblings shared equal responsibility but as sisters they had an understanding. Micki handled the difficult athletes and Annabelle the jocks, which was how they'd ended up paired with Brandon Vaughn and Damian Fuller, respectively. Sophie took care of the more refined aspects of the business. She booked photo shoots, galas and large charity events. Things that ran on schedule and she could control. Sophie didn't do jocks. Not in any sense of the word. So the fact that she drooled at the sight of her uncle's star football client really ticked her off. She hated that this cocky jock could affect her on a sensual, sexual, purely elemental level when the other men who came and went from these offices did not. Riley Nash blew her precious control to hell and back. She desired him badly and he knew it. He also knew the attraction flustered her and he took shameless advantage, going out of his way to seek her out and push her buttons. And just when she didn't think the sexual tension between them could soar much higher, he'd stop by her office for a visit and up the ante between them. That he'd show up here now, mid crisis, was a move she hadn't anticipated and sure as hell didn't need. Drawing a deep breath, she leaned against the desk and resisted the urge to check her hair and makeup. "Let me guess. You charmed your way past my secretary?" she asked him. "If she'd been at her desk, I'm sure I would have." He strode forward, full of cocky male attitude. "Nobody was outside to stop me." She sighed. This day was just getting better and better. He stepped beside her, standing so close his warm scent penetrated her pores and she grew damp in places he never failed to remind her existed. She no longer tried to convince herself that her reaction was normal for a woman who'd been sexually deprived for well over a year. Her sudden heat and spike in arousal had everything to do with Riley Nash. "So what can I do for you?" she asked him. He grinned. "Depends on what you're offering, sweet thing." Each time he spoke, he confirmed her notion that he was the embodiment of every jock nightmare she'd ever had. Raunchy, sexist, impossible to control. It didn't matter. The man's mere existence turned her into a drooling idiot. She looked him up and down, trying to appear as if he didn't faze her one bit. "Turn down the wattage on that smile, big boy. I'm busy and don't have time to indulge your flirting today." She glanced at her watch and tapped on the dial. "Well? What can I do for you?" His smile withered. "I need to see Atkins." "Yank's your agent," she reminded him as if he were dense. "This is personal not professional." His words took her by surprise. As far as Sophie knew, Riley had no dealings with Spencer Atkins or his former agency. Come to think of it, he hadn't been to the office since the merger. "I didn't realize you two knew one another." "And I didn't realize I had to answer to you before I could see my—- Before I could see Spencer." He clenched his jaw tight, obviously withholding information. Sophie was in no mood to push him for answers or bait him today. She had enough on her plate. "Look it's been a long day." It was as much of an apology as she was willing to offer him. He glanced at his watch and chuckled, his light brown eyes dancing with flecks of gold. "It's only ten in the morning."< "Exactly," she said wryly. He met her gaze and the connection she couldn't deny sparked to life between them. She wished it was purely sexual but something about the man drew her in so deeply, she often wondered what more existed beneath the jock exterior. Something had to, for her to be so drawn to a man she couldn't figure out or control. "So what's got you all riled up so early, if not my dazzling presence?" he asked. "Let's just say you could see Spencer if I knew where he was." The admission was a huge one. She was trusting Riley's discretion. He lowered himself onto the corner of her desk and nodded slowly. "I guess if I were Atkins, I'd be laying low too." "I take it you've seen the articles." Not only had the papers picked up on the gossip column entry and turned it into front page headlines, but they'd noted Spencer's sudden disappearance from his usual lunch and dinner haunts. Riley nodded. "But that doesn't mean he ran away," she said defensively. "How about you leave your number and I call you once I reach him?" He tipped his head to one side. "No can do." "Well you can't stick around here waiting who knows how long just to have a personal word with -" "My father." "What?" Riley winced at his admission. "What guarantee do I have that you'll keep that information confidential between us?" "My word." She tried not to show how affronted she was by Riley's lack of faith considering she'd divulged sensitive business information, the fact that Spencer had taken off, to him. "I'd prefer something more tangible." Riley reached into his pocket and he pulled out a small wallet, thumbed through some bills and lifted a folded check from inside. Without warning, he looked up and met her stare and she discovered he was just as sexy when he wasn't deliberately turning on the charm. His gaze simmered with heat that had nothing to do with sex, but suddenly Sophie couldn't think of anything else. Those big hands wrapped around the check had her imagining all sorts of other things he could do—to her. He grabbed a pen and began to fill out the empty spaces on the check, all business. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I'm hiring you." His head was still bent over as he wrote. His sandy colored hair was shaggy, long and as sexy as the man himself. "That way I can divulge all my personal secrets and you're bound to keep things confidential." She wasn't sure she wanted to hear them and her mouth grew dry. "I'm not a lawyer." "No but you're a publicist and if I hire you and tell you things about my life and career, you won't go spilling the information to the press without my permission. True?" He cocked an eyebrow in certainty. She nodded. "True." "Then consider yourself hired." Sophie accepted the check with trembling hands. She'd just entered into a business agreement that was bound to give her shallow perception of Riley shape and depth. And that shift in their dynamic would certainly complicate her desire for the man. As if her life wasn't complicated enough, Riley had just joined her for the ride. © Carly Phillips