I stood slouched against a wall in the corner of my office, one of those green plant tree things growing in the corner, the leaves brushing against my back as I stared out at the bay through a smoked glass window. On the desk behind me lay a mass of paperwork that I needed to get to, but I felt distracted. No, distracted didn't quite define my feelings. I felt out of place, out of touch, in an alternate reality. Not like one of those science fiction movies, but as if I had lost my rudder, or at least broken it.

It was a beautiful day out there and I could see for miles. The palm trees, the light blue sky with cotton ball clouds, and in the distance, the bay glistening in the morning sunlight, sailboats and yachts making their way from the channels out into the bay. Some of those boats were destined to the gulf, others to follow the shoreline to wherever the hell they were going. It wasn't just the pleasant day that had me so distracted. It was Riley. How many times had I replayed that evening in my mind? How many times had I felt my own body's response to those recent memories? I couldn't stop thinking about her. I hadn't expected her to be so… open and passionate. After all, she was a virgin, it was her first time, and though I hadn't been nervous, I had felt a certain obligation to make the experience as comfortable and pleasurable for her as I could. I had no doubt I'd succeeded. I still felt her hands clinging to my shoulders, her hips rocking beneath me, her head thrown back, that smile…

Heaven knows I'm no novice when it comes to sex. I've had sex more times than I could even care to count, but for the first time in a long time, with Riley, I felt something more. It wasn't just sex for the sake of sex with Riley. I had felt a connection to her that I've never felt with any other woman. I wanted to please her, and I wasn't just concerned about myself. She seemed to have had a good time, more than a good time, but, and there it was, way in the back of my mind. Had she been faking it? Was she faking her pleasure at being around me just because of the loan or did she really feel that way? Attracted to me? She hadn't faked the sex part. I knew that. I was thinking about the dinner dates, the boat trip, the small yet intriguing, sometimes amusing, and truly enjoyable conversations I'd had with her. I think I had seen the difference on the boat when we went to the resort. She was still nervous, but not nearly as nervous as she had been on our first dinner date. I got the impression that her emotions, the conversations, and her attitude around me these last few times were genuine. If she was faking it, if she was acting, she was damned good, but at the same time, I knew that wasn't Riley.

What did I know? For all I knew, Riley could play anybody. I shook my head, snickering. No, I knew that Riley was not that kind of a person. With Riley, what you saw was what you got. When she said something, she meant it. She wasn't easily impressed by my wealth, or she kept that part very well hidden. She didn't espouse platitudes, false praise and admiration. She didn't appear to have any expectations from me, other than this weird contract we made, what we had already agreed to. She had had no other choice as far as she was concerned, but I couldn't help coming back to my same question, my same concern. How could the developing relationship or whatever you wanted to call it mean anything considering that our time together had been based on nothing more than a convenient arrangement? An agreement? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours kind of thing.

And where the hell did I go from here? I wanted to see her again. I wanted to spend more time with her and get to know her better. She was unique. She was different than any women I had been out with in I don't know how many years. I liked that. Until I had met Riley, I hadn't realized how tired I was of the phony attitudes, the platitudes, the false praise, the shallowness of the women I'd been dating. With them, it was just sex. I knew, even while I was seeing them, that they were using me as much as I was using them. I didn't want to get to know them better. They were a distraction, that's all. They got the perks, the free pass to exclusive clubs, expensive restaurants, a few baubles now and then, rides on the yacht, and whatever else they wanted, within reason of course. I knew it. I knew what they wanted from me. I was good in bed too, which certainly didn't hurt. But now I was tired of playing that game. Tired of the lack of reality, the truth, and the deeper emotions that I was just now beginning to realize had been missing so drastically in my life.

Being with Riley also reminded me of something else, something that I often didn't allow myself to think about or ponder. Dad. I missed my dad. I missed his solid presence and his confidence, his no-nonsense attitude. But as much as I missed my dad, I had felt myself growing angrier at my mom over the years, at the way she treated him, and her controlling, have-to-have-it-my-way attitude. I shook my head, glancing back at my desk. I had work to do. I needed to knuckle down and focus. I was at the tail end of tying up a deal that I'd been working on for months. If I didn't get on it and get things wrapped up within a few days, I might lose the deal.

Then, even though I had just acknowledged my distraction, my thoughts flew back to Riley. The way she talked about her family prompted me to wish that I had enjoyed such a close relationship with mine. I had purposely been avoiding my mother for months now, other than a few brief conversations on the phone that had to do with business, nothing personal of course. My mom wasn't big on personal or emotions. Then again, things had seemed to thaw a little bit, at least to the point where we could have a five-minute conversation and someone didn't get angry enough to raise a voice or hang up. That was saying a lot, wasn't it? Again, I shook my head as I stepped to my desk and sat down, glaring at the papers, not sure where to start. Parents. Home. Family life. Riley hadn't talked much about her father's arrest, nor whether they had discussed his legal situation now that he was out on bail. But the family was holding together. I got the impression that no matter what her father was accused of, she would stand by him, and so would her mother. Riley didn't have to stay at home. She could've gone off and done whatever she wanted, but she'd stayed home to support her parents.

Which got me to thinking. Was I ready to forgive my own mother for how she treated my father? I snorted. One didn't forgive and forget overnight. There was a possibility that someday, maybe in the distant future, I would learn to forgive my mother, but forget? I would never forget. How could I?

A knock on the door startled me and then it swung open before I could say a word. I glanced up from the pile of the papers, blinking in surprise as my mother entered the room. Speak of the devil. It was as if it had all been preplanned, preordained, predestined… for a second, I remembered that old movie … Beetlejuice… I almost laughed at the comparison, but after I noted the expression I saw on my mom's face, I didn't. With a resigned sigh, I leaned back in my chair, eyebrows raised in question.

My mother, Iva Cross was a beautiful woman, one who seemed to be frozen in time as far as her looks went. Pushing sixty, she could easily pass for a woman in her forties and she knew it. She dressed to the nines every day whether she was at a fundraiser, at a board meeting, or she was just staying home. Her hair always just so, usually worn in an upswept French curl thing, her makeup just so, that bright red lipstick and her long, bright red fingernails her "signature look" as she called it. Rather than making her look harsh, that red lipstick only seem to emphasize her sculptured features, as did the perfectly plucked and brushed eyebrows, setting off dark green eyes. Today she wore a silver embossed black pantsuit. Large round silver earrings dangling from her earlobes completed her ensemble. Oh, that and her designer purse.

"What brings you here, Mother?" I asked, wishing that I didn't have that stack of paperwork sitting on the desk in front of me, emphasizing my lack of attention to work over the past few days. I saw her eyes gaze down to the papers as well, then back at me.

"The board has been waiting for your report, Wyatt. Any particular reason why it wasn't on the agenda for yesterday's meeting?"

She didn't bother to sit down even though I gestured for her to take a seat. She was in a hurry, off to somewhere. "I'm not done with it."

"Could it be that you've been distracted lately?"

My heart did a little hop and a skip. She couldn't possibly know about the agreement I'd made with Riley. "I'm not sure what you're implying, but as you know very well, this deal is important and I want to make sure that everything is in order before I present it. I've had to double check and triple check the figures—"

"And what's this?" She reached into her large purse and pulled out a folded section of newspaper. She tossed it on the desk, turning it around with those brightly colored fingernails of hers so that I could see the five-by-five-inch newspaper photograph in the top right corner of the page.

Shit. It was a photograph of me and Riley on my yacht that day we had gone out to the resort. It looked to have been taken with a long-range zoom lens, not surprising really. I was in the captain's chair, watching Riley sitting on the bench seat behind me, her face turned toward the sky, that siren’s smile on her face. Beneath the photo was the caption: Another Conquest for Wyatt Cross?

"Don’t the paparazzi have anything better to do?" I idly wondered, not touching the newspaper. I looked up at mom, my eyebrow raised in question. "And?"

"Who is she?"

I frowned. "Does it matter? Besides, I don't need to explain myself to you. I'll be wrapping this paperwork today, and I'm ahead of the deadline, so what's the problem?"

She sighed. "When are you going to settle down, Wyatt?"

Well, that had come out of nowhere. I almost laughed. "You want me to settle down? And do what? Get married, have two point three children, a white picket fence, and—"

"Don't be a smart aleck, Wyatt." She gestured to the photograph. "These women… you know that they're only after your money, right?"

I felt a surge of anger rise within me. She was lumping Riley in with all the others and I fought the urge to jump to her defense, at least to my mother. But I couldn't do that or I'd give my feelings for her away. I didn't want my mom to know that I was interested in Riley. Why give her fodder for fuel? My mother was an intimidating woman, a powerful woman, one who, most of the time, got what she wanted when she wanted it. I felt rather proud of myself at my restraint as I leaned forward in my chair, reaching for my pen.

"If there's nothing else, I've got to get back to work. So, is that all you came to ask me about? You could've called and asked about the status of the paperwork. You didn't have to come to my office."

I saw a look pass over my mother's face, a slight downward tilt of her chin as she fiddled with the handles of her purse, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly. What was this? If I didn't know any better, I would believe it to be a flash of disappointment, perhaps even of regret.

She recovered her previous mien, stiffened her back, and then nodded. "I'll tell Barney the paperwork will be ready tonight. We'll call another meeting tomorrow afternoon."

I shrugged. "Works for me."

With that, she walked out of my office, closing the door softly behind her. I stared at the door for several moments, feeling the frown deepen on my forehead. What was that all about? It wasn't like my mom to come to my office unless we needed to discuss something in depth. Checking up on me? She had left the paper on my desk. With a snarl of disgust, I reached for it, tore it in half and tossed it in the trash can, hoping that Riley wouldn't see it, that her parents didn't subscribe to that particular paper, nor read the so-called society pages. That's all I needed.