CHAPTER NINE
Sophie rubbed her eyes, exhaustion nearly overwhelming her. Although the tech guys had gotten the computer system up and running within twenty-four hours of the crash, the damage had been done. Despite the firewall, a nasty virus had infected the system via e-mail and Athletes Only’s form contract, one carefully negotiated and containing a confidentiality clause, had been distributed to everyone in the main computer’s database of e-mails. A.O.’s contract was no longer confidential and a week after the story about Spencer’s sexual orientation had broken, everyone had something else on their minds.
A knock sounded and she glanced at her office door. “Come in.”
Her sister Annabelle strode in and shut the door behind her. “How long were you going to wait before calling in reinforcements?”
“Where’s my niece?” Sophie asked, ignoring work for the most important thing: family.
“She’s home with her grandparents. It’s way past time I came back to work. As much as I love her, I’m losing my mind,” Annabelle said.
Sophie rose, came around the desk and pulled her sister into a huge hug, then stepped back to check out the changes since she’d seen her last. Her always curvy sibling was even more so post-pregnancy. “Motherhood agrees with you. You look gorgeous. And I am so glad you’re here.”
“Believe me, I’m thrilled to be here. Now fill me in on the computer crash.” Annabelle pulled up a chair and settled in. “I thought our system was secure.”
Sophie seated herself on the corner of her desk. “Apparently nothing’s foolproof. This virus came in an e-mail attachment. Once a computer is infected, the virus automatically sends out copies of itself when the machine is connected to the Internet. And it’s usually without the user’s knowledge.”
“Somebody’s been researching again,” Annabelle said, teasing Sophie.
She shrugged. “How else could I understand what’s going on around here?”
“And try to control it?” Annabelle squeezed Sophie’s shoulder.
“It’s not like anything else around here is falling into place,” she muttered.
“We’ll fix things. How close is Spencer to signing Cashman?”
Sophie rolled her eyes upward. “Your guess is as good as mine. His father has this good-old-boy Southern attitude. He expects Spencer to take him at his word that he’s a client of Athletes Only. He says he operates on trust and Spencer should, too.”
“A little Jerry Maguire thing going on?” Annabelle asked.
“That’s what has Spence nervous. Add the computer crash, plus Cambias sniffing around courting Cindy—”
Annabelle’s eyes opened wide. “He’s what?”
Sophie shook her head. “There’s no other word for it. He sends her flowers, shows up to take her to lunch, that kind of thing.”
“Do you think he’s really interested in her?”
“I hope so, because she’s falling hard and fast. He’d better not want access to anything business related,” Sophie muttered.
Without warning, Frannie came storming through the door. “You have to see this. Come to the conference room quick.”
Sophie shot Annabelle a worried glance and together they followed Frannie out the door, down the long hall and into the conference room, where they had a fifty-inch screen. To her surprise, there was a clip of a correspondent, talking to Uncle Yank at an airport.
“Where is that?” Annabelle asked.
“Kennedy,” Frannie said.
“I didn’t know he was coming back early from his cruise.” Sophie eased herself into an oversize chair, knowing that whatever happened next, she wouldn’t like it.
“Nobody knew.” Frannie clicked a few buttons and soon they were watching the beginning of the interview.
“Good flight, big guy?” the reporter asked.
“The best,” Uncle Yank said in a voice as loud as his Hawaiian shirt and baggy Bermuda shorts.
“So what’s so important that we came out here to meet you instead of waiting until you could come on the show? Because I know my colleagues were looking forward to talking to you next week.”
“They were?” Sophie and Annabelle asked in unison.
Yank chuckled and slung an arm over the reporter’s shoulder as if they were old buddies. Which they were, but that wasn’t the point. Uncle Yank had a gleam in his eye and Sophie leaned forward in her chair.
“A man can’t wait to brag about his honeymoon,” Yank said.
“Yeah, I’ve had a few of those myself.” the reporter grinned.
Sophie figured Lola was standing in the background, waiting to throttle her husband.
“So you return to pure chaos at home.”
“Nothing we can’t handle. The draft is all ours next week.”
As far as Sophie knew, nobody had been in contact with Uncle Yank, but obviously she was wrong. “Who’s spoken to him?”
“It must have been Spencer,” Frannie whispered. “Unfortunately, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
The reporter raised an eyebrow. “Your firm’s signed Cashman? Because Miguel Cambias has also mentioned some serious talks with the first-round draft pick.”
“Anybody with half a brain knows there’s no contest between Cambias and Athletes Only. It’s like choosing between a prostate exam and a blow job. What’s an intelligent man gonna pick?”
“Oh God,” Annabelle muttered, covering her face with her hands.
“Why doesn’t he just wave a red flag in Cambias’s face?” Sophie asked.
Once he stopped laughing, the reporter leaned in closer to Yank. “Now I have to ask the question everyone’s wondering about. You lose any clients after Spencer disappeared on you?”
“Spencer Atkins is the best damn sports agent, period. Besides me, of course. The man needs some down time. He’s earned it.”
“Fair enough. Are you ready to return to work?”
“Damn straight.” Yank belted the man on the back. “With the draft in a few weeks, I’ve got a boatload of work ahead of me. Not to mention my personal mission.”
“Could that personal mission have something to do with your gorgeous nieces?” the reporter asked, as if he’d planned to make this transition.
Goose bumps like warning signals prickled along Sophie’s skin.
“It just so happens it does. You know I’m just coming home from my honeymoon. I waited too long to get hitched, but now that I have, I’m a spokesperson for commitment.”
“Oh, brother.” Annabelle, who’d taken a chair beside Sophie, reached over and grabbed her sister’s hand.
“Two of my nieces, Annabelle and Micki, have also gotten themselves shackled.”
“And that leaves Sophie,” the man said, nodding slowly as if just catching on.
Sophie’s stomach cramped and she closed her eyes for a brief moment. Of all the harebrained, half-cocked, stupid ideas…
Yank abruptly turned and began waving his arms. “Hey, honey, come on over here and hand me my bag.”
The camera panned to Lola, who looked fit to be tied, as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her husband. “I will not be a party to this spectacle, Yank Morgan. And it’s not too late for you to leave now before more damage is done.”
“Poor Lola,” Sophie said.
Annabelle turned to her, her expression incredulous. “Poor Lola? Poor you!”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’ll survive. I can’t do anything now anyway. What’s done is done. Besides, the man raised all three of us. We’re used to his humiliating comments.”
And it was inadvertent. Everything Uncle Yank did, he did out of love. Unfortunately, he didn’t think before he spoke, which often landed him in the doghouse with those he cared about most.
They turned back to the screen. The camera had panned away from Lola while Yank pawed through his duffel bag, then to Sophie’s complete mortification, he pulled out a photo. Of her.
“She’s sexy, smart and single,” Uncle Yank was saying.
“He’s making me sound desperate!” Sophie’s cheeks burned with humiliation. “And I’m going to kill him.”
“I thought you said, what’s done is done,” Annabelle reminded her, trying to suppress a laugh.
“He’s done. And if he’s smart, he won’t show his face around here anytime soon.” Sophie rose and headed for the door, passing a silently sympathetic Frannie as she departed in search of a brown paper bag to put over her head.
In fact, maybe she’d wear it for the rest of her life.
* * *
After her humiliation on TV, Sophie had taken a mental step back and decided to cool down before confronting her uncle. The difficult thing about getting angry at Uncle Yank was that he always had good intentions. His way of going about things was much more questionable.
She’d decided to stop at the gym for the early-evening yoga class in order to relieve stress, before heading to his apartment for a long talk. Now as she stepped off the elevator onto Yank’s floor she heard Noodle’s high-pitched bark. Apparently her uncle and Lola had already picked up the pooch from Cindy, who’d taken over doggie duty.
She rang the doorbell and immediately smacked her hands over her ears in time to block out the worst of his extra loud chimes. Uncle Yank had installed them before he’d married Lola. He hadn’t wanted to miss a visitor. After almost going deaf the first time she’d visited and heard the noise, Sophie had learned her lesson and protected her hearing.
She turned and shot a covert glance at the door across the hall, expecting his neighbor to stick her head out and complain about the racket as she always did.
“She’s off visiting her daughter,” Uncle Yank said from behind her, tapping her on the shoulder at the same time.
Sophie swirled around. She hadn’t heard him open his apartment door. “You drove her away, huh?”
He shook his head. “Don’t go giving your uncle a hard time. Give me a big hug instead.”
Despite her anger and frustration with him, Sophie loved the man and wrapped her arms around him tight. “I missed you, you old coot.” She stepped back. “But I’m still going to kill you,” she told him.
“Hey, it’s my job to see you’re taken care of.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you think prostituting me to every man with a TV set is taking care of me?”
“If you’d just settle down like your sisters, I wouldn’t have to worry about what’ll happen to you when I’m gone.”
Sophie grabbed her uncle’s weathered hand, a knife-like pain settling in her heart. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Unless you trip over Noodle or fall off another chair,” she said, making light of the serious fact that he was getting up there in years, though still only in his late sixties.
He chuckled. “It’s something I can’t help thinkin’ about. I want to know if I kick off, I won’t have to worry about you.”
“There’s not going to be any kicking going on unless it’s me kicking some sense into your thick skull.” Lola stepped into the hall. “Apologize to Sophie right now.”
Sophie pulled the woman who’d raised her along with Uncle Yank into a hug. “You always were his conscience,” Sophie said, laughing.
“I may be blind but I’m not deaf, and I can hear you just fine. I don’t need a conscience. There’s nothing wrong with taking care of my own,” her uncle insisted.
Sophie sighed. “There’s no getting through to him.”
“Amen.” Lola shook her head. “Why don’t we take this inside?”
As they settled into seats in the living room, Uncle Yank said, “So Spencer tells me you’ve been spending time with Riley Nash.”
At the mention of Riley’s name, Sophie’s heart did a little leap inside her chest. She knew better than to share the truth about her relationship, or whatever it had been, with her uncle. He’d rip Riley’s head off, and Sophie still cared about him too much to subject him to Uncle Yank’s wrath.
She swallowed hard. “Riley came to Florida with me when I was looking for Spencer.” So much more had happened between them and she hoped her fair skin didn’t show a blush.
“So he finally decided to go looking for his old man.” Her uncle nodded approvingly.
Apparently Uncle Yank was focused on Riley and Spencer’s relationship, not Sophie and Riley’s. Knowing she’d escaped, she jumped on the topic at hand and leaned forward in her seat. “You knew Spencer was Riley’s father?”
Uncle Yank shook his head. “Until last month, all I knew was that in Riley’s senior year Spencer called me and said he wouldn’t be taking on Riley Nash as a client. He asked me to represent him before some other shark could step in.”
“Didn’t you wonder why Spencer would give up a prime athlete?” Sophie asked, confused.
“A man doesn’t always have to explain himself. That’s the way it was between Spencer and me.”
Lola let out a sigh. “We found out Spencer’s motives last month after the big revelation. He just wanted to protect Riley from dealing with having a gay father. Times were different then and Spencer’s thought process was skewed. But it was what it was. So, he called Yank and asked him to represent Riley. To take care of him the way Spencer couldn’t.”
Sophie rubbed her aching temples. Suddenly she had a better understanding of Spencer. She no longer considered him the man she didn’t understand, or the dear friend who’d let her down. Instead she saw a terrified human being who’d done what he thought was necessary for his child, no matter how misguided his actions had turned out to be.
“Riley doesn’t know this,” she murmured, her heart with the man who thought himself unworthy of his biological father’s love.
“I wouldn’t think that he did,” Uncle Yank said. “Spencer told me that there was an ugly confrontation in Florida and Riley wants nothing to do with him.”
“It’s confusing, but that’s about the gist of it.”
Lola rose from her seat, smoothing the creases in her slacks. “Sophie, honey, would you stay for dinner?”
Sophie nodded. She didn’t have any other plans and she’d missed her uncle and Lola.
As she helped Lola chop a salad and put dinner together, Sophie’s mind whirled with what she’d learned. She couldn’t stop wondering how Riley would feel when he found out that Spencer had looked after him from behind the scenes, taking care of his career through Uncle Yank.
Knowing Riley’s defiance when it came to Spencer, she doubted the truth would change much, especially the betrayal Riley still felt to this day. Spencer’s deliberate absence had affected Riley’s life in a profound way, from how he raised his daughter to how he maintained his distance from anyone who lived by rules and order.
No matter how much Sophie understood what made Riley tick, he’d never get past her need for stability and routine. Inevitably they’d clash over every decision he made that was spontaneous or unexpected, and he’d hate the way she made him feel boxed in. For her part, there was no possible way she could change the habits of a lifetime, ones that gave her comfort and security.
In fact, the more she thought about their short affair, the more she realized that he’d done her a favor by distancing himself in Florida before things between them got even more complicated or serious. A little heartache now was nothing compared to the damage he could have done to her if he’d gotten an even tighter hold on her heart.
* * *
Running on the treadmill was a damn good way to release stress, and since returning from Florida just a few short days ago, Riley had had plenty of aggravation. First the scene with Lisa and Ted, and then the fact that his daughter was upset with the new regime, as she called it, and didn’t like that all three parents had read her the riot act. She’d decided to take her anger out on Riley by not making herself available to see him. His daughter turning on him was the one thing he’d wanted to avoid and he didn’t know how to make things better.
Then there was the issue of his burning desire to see Sophie again in someplace other than his dreams. And definitely someplace other than on the television screen being promoted as sexy, smart and single by her crazy uncle. Riley pounded on the rubber at a steep incline. Willing himself not to focus on his problems, he turned up the volume on the headset and set the channel to one of the sports channels before running harder.
But as usual, he couldn’t stop thinking about Sophie. He missed her like crazy. Yank Morgan’s close-up photo of Sophie had been like a kick in the head, reminding him she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Not to mention more vulnerable than she liked to let on and more sexy than any woman had a right to be.
Her uncle had held her out like a piece of meat in the marketplace. Unfortunately Yank’s description was dead-on accurate and every red-blooded male in this country probably now knew it, too.
Riley came to a skidding halt and grabbed the towel he’d slung over the handlebar.
“She’s hot.” Mike, his best friend, running back and occasional weight spotter, gestured to the television where they were rerunning clips from Yank’s interview, including the headshot of Sophie. “That is the chick from Florida, right?” Mike asked.
Riley had unloaded on his friend last night while at a bar, but only because Mike wouldn’t spread the information around the locker room. “That’s her.”
Mike knew that he’d hooked up with Sophie in Florida and that she’d gotten under Riley’s skin, but not even Mike knew about his relationship to Atkins. Growing up in a politician’s house had taught Riley the value of keeping a secret.
“I can see why you can’t forget about her. So why not have some fun and let the thing run its course?” Mike suggested.
Riley had asked himself the same question many times during sleepless nights when he’d tossed and turned, images of Sophie’s body under—and over—his keeping him aroused and awake.
Riley tipped his head to one side and really pondered the notion. If he couldn’t get Sophie out of his head by staying away from her, maybe he should stop fighting it. Maybe he should try and pick up where they had left off and allow the relationship to lose steam on its own. It would. They always did.
Riley glanced at Mike. “Every once in a while, you come up with a not-so-stupid idea.” He gave his buddy a friendly punch on the shoulder and started for the shower.
“Where are you going?” Mike asked.
“To act instead of sitting on my ass.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Mike asked. “I have some things to follow up on.”
Riley shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Spencer Atkins had been Mike’s agent for years. Riley ignored the stab in his chest brought on by the reminder that other people were good enough for Atkins’s representation. Just not Riley.
* * *
After a quick shower at the gym, Riley headed over to Athletes Only. He knew he must be desperate to see Sophie if he was willing to risk running into his old man to do it. He had his doubts she’d have anything to say to him, but he had to try. His sanity depended on it.
An hour later, after a frustrating trip through heavy city traffic, they arrived at the offices of Athletes Only and The Hot Zone. His heart pounded hard in his chest, along with a suffocating feeling he hadn’t experienced…ever.
He stepped off the elevator and into what looked like a flower shop. Vases lined the reception desk filled with bouquets of carnations, roses and other assorted varieties he couldn’t possibly name.
“Are we in the right place?” Mike asked jokingly.
“Damned if I know.” Riley walked to the desk and peered between the floral displays. “Is Sophie Jordan in?”
The woman he’d met last time glanced up at him, then sneezed. “If you have flowers, put them in the corner,” she said, then returned to the work in front of her, ignoring him.
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 screwed her, 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. Lovesick? 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.