CHAPTER ELEVEN
Riley was pissed off. Sophie had deliberately ignored him, and Mike, hoping to work the jealousy angle in Riley’s favor, had hooked them up with two gorgeous women at the bar. Mike had taken off with one of them in a cab, assuming Riley would do the same, but Riley’s interest wasn’t there. Not one iota.
There’d been no point in going home with her when he wouldn’t have been able to get it up. He didn’t want to be with any woman other than Sophie and to pretend otherwise just to soothe his ego had been a damn stupid move.
They’d had to walk a long way to find an empty taxi, but eventually he’d hailed her a cab and sent her on her way alone. Then he headed back to the sports bar. No sooner had he turned the corner where Quarters was located than he heard the sound of Sophie’s voice.
“What part of no don’t you understand?” she asked, her voice rising.
A guy Riley didn’t recognize stood too close, invading her personal space. Riley hadn’t liked it when he’d seen her with Roper, a baseball player he knew by sight, not acquaintance, and he liked this even less. He stepped closer so he could hear the conversation.
“Come on. I saw the interview on TV. You’re single and available. How many guys bother to find out where you buy your favorite chocolates? Quit playing hard-to-get.” The jerk placed a hand on her arm, which Sophie promptly shrugged off.
Riley stiffened.
“Back off,” she warned the guy in an angry tone, one tinged with fear.
“Are you trying to tell me you like it rough?” the guy asked.
“She doesn’t, but apparently you do.” Riley had had enough and he lunged forward, shoving the guy away from Sophie with enough force to make him stumble backward on the sidewalk.
“Hey! Mind your own business,” the guy said, pulling himself together.
“She is my business.”
The other man shot him a disbelieving look. “That’s not what her uncle said on television and it’s not what it looked like in the bar.”
“But it is what I’m telling you, and unless you want me to smash your face into that building over there, I suggest you take my word for it.” Riley took another menacing step forward, knowing his adrenaline was pumping and his body primed for a fight.
“Riley, no!” Sophie grabbed his arm and held on tight.
Only her panicked voice kept him from taking a swing.
“Okay, okay.” Sophie’s attacker backed off first. “She’s probably not worth much in the sack anyway,” he said, stepping away.
Riley waited until the man had disappeared around the corner before facing Sophie. “You okay?”
Her cheeks were flushed pink, her blue eyes flashing with a mixture of emotion. “I am too worth something in bed,” she muttered.
Riley burst out laughing, then reached to run his hands up and down her arms. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.” But she swayed slightly, making her words a lie.
“You’re dizzy.”
“Light-headed. There’s a difference. Dizziness is usually vertiginous. You know, vertigo, the sensation of spinning like a top. I’m just light-headed and unsteady on my feet—” She suddenly paused, her eyes narrowing, focused on his face. “What’s with the smile?” she asked.
“You’re just so predictable. If a situation makes you uncomfortable, you reach for the safety of an explanation. That’s all.”
“First I’m not worth much in bed and then I’m predictable?” Her voice rose, trembling with what he guessed was a release of the fear she’d experienced.
He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “The first is untrue. I can vouch for how good you are firsthand.”
He inhaled and his body hardened at the familiar, intoxicating scent. He reminded himself she needed reassurance, not another come-on, but he almost lost it when a purr of contentment escaped from her throat.
“Let me get you home,” he said in a voice rough with desire.
Sophie stepped back. “This is where I should tell you I can get home all by myself.” But she was too tired to play games and too scared to actually let him leave. And she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
She ran her hand through her hair. “My uncle means well, but someday he’s going to be the death of me. Things were awkward after he did the initial interview, but since the network picked up on the idea, lunatics have been coming out of the woodwork.”
Riley frowned. “You didn’t say anything about that today.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think it would get so out of hand. Besides you’re not responsible for me.” Even if she liked it when he took charge.
Sometimes she grew tired of being the one who oversaw everything in order to prevent problems or tragedy. As if she could control such an outcome anyway.
He strode into the street and held his hand in the air, flagging a cab. “Since you’re not planning on telling me to take a hike, let’s get out of here.”
As soon as the cab screeched to a halt, Riley opened the door and waited for her to climb in before sliding in beside her. Sophie gave her address to the driver and settled in for the short ride. Riley didn’t crowd her in the back seat and, as much as she appreciated the sentiment, she craved his arms around her and the security he offered more.
Before she could act on her feelings, they pulled up to her building. “We’re here.” The driver stopped the meter.
Riley pulled cash out of his pocket and slipped it through the Plexiglas divider. “Keep the change.”
A few minutes later, she let Riley into her apartment for the first time. He stalked the place, a man unashamed to study the unfamiliar environment and take it all in.
Her cheeks flamed as he studied her wall of photographs. Each had been meticulously chosen and framed by Sophie herself. They were spaced one inch apart on the wall directly across from her bedroom, so she could make out the outline of each picture at night. Even if she couldn’t see the individual photos, Sophie knew which picture held which place, and why.
She swallowed hard. “Can I get you something to drink?”
He straightened from where he’d focused on a photograph of Sophie, Annabelle and Micki, taken the day they’d come to live with Uncle Yank. Each sister wore a matching frilly dress in order to make a good impression. What the picture didn’t show was the bow on each of their behinds, she remembered, and laughed aloud.
He shot her a curious look at her abrupt outburst. “I’d love a Coke. I’m thirsty.”
“Coke it is,” she said, grateful for something to keep her busy.
“What was so funny?”
She pulled a can from the cabinet and filled two glasses with ice, dividing the soda between them. “I was just wondering what Uncle Yank must have thought when he saw the three of us for the first time.” She handed him his glass.
“He probably calculated the distance to the nearest exit.” Riley grinned.
She smiled. “No kidding. I don’t know how he did it,” she murmured. “I was always so afraid he’d go away and leave us alone the way Mom and Dad had.” They walked to the sofa and she settled in, curling her legs beneath her.
Riley sat beside her, his knee touching hers. He remained silent, obviously giving her time to think and relax. She was grateful for the security he brought her and, for now, their earlier disagreements and all they didn’t have in common faded away.
“You’d think that after all these years, those issues and insecurities would disappear.” She placed her glass on a coaster on her cocktail table.
He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I mean, if childhood shit didn’t stay with us, shrinks would be out of business.”
She laughed, but knew that deep down he was also referring to his own issues. It helped to know she wasn’t alone.
Sophie yawned suddenly, the events of the night taking their toll, especially now with the danger gone and the rush of adrenaline dissipating fast.
“Come on. Off to bed.” He held out his hand.
In his eyes, she saw warmth and caring. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t view the flicker of desire in their brown depths, a desire that had stirred to life inside her, too.
He must have sensed her hesitation, because he lowered his hand to his lap and curled it into a fist. “I’m not going to attack you in your bedroom, Soph. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
A huge lump formed in her throat. Not because she’d insulted him, but because she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken care of her, without her pulling the strings behind the scenes. Before she knew it, an actual tear fell down her cheek. She wiped the moisture away with the back of her hand.
“I didn’t think for one second that you’d take advantage of me,” she whispered.
“Then why the hesitation? And why the tears now?”
She smiled. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I’m usually the one in charge of taking care of everyone else.”
He extended his hand again, this time grasping her hand in his. “Well, it’s time you let yourself go. If you’re exhausted, feel it. If you’re going through a release of tension, then collapse. I’m here to catch you,” he said in a gruff voice and pulled her to her feet.
She stood, but to her surprise, her knees buckled, another rush of light-headedness assaulting her.
He was there in an instant, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her to the bedroom. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Um…lunch, I think?”
“And you drank on an empty stomach? For a smart woman, that was pretty stupid.” He flicked the light switch and her night-table lamp flickered to life.
“I had some peanuts,” she said, her words not much of a defense.
“If you think you’ll be all right alone in here, why don’t you change into something comfortable and I’ll see what I can scrounge up in your kitchen?”
“I’ll be fine.” But she chuckled at his other comment. “I take it your own kitchen is pretty bare?”
He cocked his head to one side. “I’m a bachelor. What do you think?”
She opened her dresser drawers, pulling out a change of clothes. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what you find in mine. The question is what you’re able to do with it.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Oh, ye of little faith. My mother loves to cook as a way to release the stresses of living with a man constantly on the run and scheduling events. If I was home, I’d sit and watch her. Sometimes I even helped. I can get by.” He winked at her and headed for the kitchen.
Her knees turned weak, but this time not because she was hungry. At least not for anything except this sexy man who seemed to want nothing more than to tend to her every need.
At least for now. A little voice in her head warned her to tread lightly and carefully, to accept what he offered now but not to read anything into it for the future. Which was fine with her. She knew herself. Knew what would happen if she and Riley even attempted to make this…this…thing between them work long term.
She already knew what would happen. To keep the fear of losing him at bay, she’d compensate with her need to control and end up trying to control him. Like she had with Uncle Yank’s vision problems and then with his broken hip. Like she had with her sisters until they’d argued back. Like she had with prior men in her life who hadn’t meant nearly as much to her as Riley already did.
She’d already stepped into his hang-ups in Florida. Without a doubt, she’d blow it with him again. It was only a matter of time before an independent, free-spirited man like Riley would run again, this time for good.
Better to remember to protect herself first. That settled, she quickly changed into silky drawstring pants and a matching T-shirt, then washed up for the night.
She devoured Riley’s delicious and impressive fluffy omelet loaded with freshly chopped vegetables and cheese, along with toast and a large glass of orange juice before heading off to bed. With Riley by her side.
* * *
Riley watched Sophie sleep. No sooner had she crawled beneath the covers than she passed out cold. Of course there had been the few seconds when she’d moved and wrangled beneath the light yellow bedding. While his imagination had been running wild with thoughts of what she could be doing under there, suddenly her pajama bottoms had come flying out from beneath the covers.
“I can’t sleep with pants on,” she’d explained through a yawn, oblivious to how those words had turned him on.
Then she’d fluffed her pillow, laid her head down and promptly fallen asleep, leaving him worked up on top of the comforter—where he planned to stay, for her sake as well as his own.
She needed her sleep. He needed her. There was no point in denying the obvious. It was a fight within himself that he was destined to lose. He had no choice but to go with the flow. See where this thing took him. That she’d let him bring her home was a sign she was softening toward him.
With his ex-wife, everything had been a rush. He blamed it on the foolishness of youth. They had to have each other, had to get married right away, had to have unprotected sex and of course Lisa had ended up pregnant—even though three or four nights a week, Riley would come home later and later to avoid the inevitable argument. Why couldn’t he work out at home? Why did he have to hang out with the guys after a game? They were all wrong for each other, he and Lisa. But they had done one thing right, and that was his daughter.
He needed to make peace with Lizzie. She needed to accept that he was her parent as well as her friend. And he knew just how to make it happen and who could help him accomplish his goal. He rolled over and propped his head on his hand and continued to watch Sophie sleep.
Her hands were beneath her cheek as she breathed in and out evenly. Without makeup and with her hair tousled around her face, she looked softer and more vulnerable. The kind of woman who was capable of reaching out to Lizzie without earning her disdain and snotty attitude. Oh, she’d start off trying to control the situation, but his badass daughter would quickly learn that Sophie Jordan couldn’t be manipulated.
He grinned, satisfied with his decision and looking forward to the fireworks. He’d never let Lizzie meet any woman he’d been involved with before. Never even considered it. But as he’d thought many times before, Sophie wasn’t just any woman.
Unable to fight the urge, he reached out and stroked her hair near her temple. She shifted slightly, sighed and settled back into deep slumber. Meanwhile, he had a hard-on to match the Empire State Building, he thought, resigning himself to a long, sleepless night.
* * *
Sophie awoke at seven o’clock as always without the help of an alarm clock. She’d never had to use one, because she was always prompt—anal, as Uncle Yank liked to tease her. She immediately remembered that Riley hadn’t left her alone last night and she rolled over, already sensing he’d gone.
On the pillow where he’d slept was a handwritten note. “Went home to shower for an early-morning meeting. Car service will be downstairs at eight-thirty. Don’t make plans this weekend. You’re mine. R.”
Last night, she’d been so shaken up by the guy who’d harassed her, she hadn’t thought about anything beyond Riley and the security he represented. Now she realized she just might have given him the wrong message. Apparently he was back in her life.
How long would he stay this time? she wondered, and shivered.
She rose, showered and had a quick cup of coffee. She was grateful for the car waiting downstairs, which meant she didn’t have to stand in the street alone and hail a cab. She owed Riley a huge thanks for that and, she realized, so much more. He’d remained by her side all night, a complete gentleman in every way. She realized now what a great father he probably was. What a lucky girl Lizzie was to have him as her dad.
She was so preoccupied with her thoughts, she barely registered arriving at the office and stepping off the elevator. But as she did so, she stopped short. Uniformed police officers were swarming the hallway.
Her stomach clenched with fear. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Are you Annabelle Jordan?” one of the men asked.
She shook her head. “I’m Sophie Jordan.”
He tipped his head. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. The alarm company already called Annabelle seeing as how she was first on their list. And, of course, they called us.”
In the back of her mind, Sophie noted that they’d never taken Annie off the top of the alarm company’s emergency list after she’d moved out of Manhattan. It would take her sister a while to drive into the city in an emergency.
“What happened?” she asked, barely able to take in the men measuring the break in the untempered glass.
One of the officers rose from a kneeling position and walked over. “We’re not one-hundred-percent certain, but it looks like someone broke in.” He gestured to what she hadn’t seen before. The hole in the glass was bigger than she’d realized.
“Could someone fit inside?” Sophie asked.
“Someone could, but not without great care and expertise or else they’d probably cut themselves. We’re dusting for prints and checking for bloodstains.”
Sophie gagged, a reflex she’d had since childhood. One that only showed up in situations that included bloodshed.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” The officer gestured to the window ledge. “We’ll let you know once you can go—”
“What in the dang hell is going on here?” Uncle Yank walked off the elevator, Spencer and Lola by his side, and Noodle in his arms. Not in front of him on a leash, the way a normal guide dog ought to be.
“We’ve had a break-in,” Sophie said, repeating the obvious.
Uncle Yank frowned. “I can see that.” He paused. “Well, I can’t exactly see everything, but I can make out enough to know we got ourselves a problem.”
Noodle barked and wiggled to go free, probably sensing her owner’s distress.
Lola patted Noodle’s head in an effort to calm the pooch. Sophie thought she ought to be patting Uncle Yank’s head instead.
“Officer, what happened, exactly?” Spencer asked, stepping up to take charge. “I’m Spencer Atkins.”
The officer with the notepad nodded. “Your reputation in the sports world precedes you, Mr. Atkins. My nephew’s a fine baseball player. He’s hoping you’ll get him a contract like A-Rod or Jeter one day. He’d take you, too, Mr. Morgan.”
Sophie swallowed a laugh, relieved her uncle merely muttered beneath his breath instead of giving the man a hard time about how much better an agent he was than his partner.
Spencer grinned, his mind off the robbery at least for the moment. “How old is the boy?”
“Ten,” the cop said, laughing.
“You tell him if he practices, anything is possible.” Spencer then turned, taking in the mess once more and he groaned. “I think someone targeted our offices. The motive could be something as simple as robbery. Was anything taken?”
“We’ll know more once the guys tell me what they’ve found inside,” the first cop who’d spoken with Sophie said. “While they’re doing their job, I need to ask you folks a couple of questions.”
Her uncle narrowed his gaze. “Oh, here we go. Focus on the good guys while the bad guys go free.” He raised his hand to poke the officer in the chest.
Good old Uncle Yank, creating more problems, Sophie thought. Before she could dive between the older man and the cop, Lola stepped in.
She grabbed Yank’s offending finger. “Keep it up and I’ll break the other hip,” she said. Then she turned to the officers and offered them her most sincere smile. “You’ll have to excuse Yank. Between the break-in and the recent stress, he’s a little cranky.”
The younger man eased back, away from Yank and harm’s way. “I understand, ma’am. Nobody ever knows how to react to a violation like this one.”
“What do you need to know?” Sophie asked.
“Who would do something like this, for starters?” This question came from another man she hadn’t seen before. He had stepped over to join them. “I just came from inside. Nothing obvious looks taken. No major equipment is gone. Nothing ransacked. Well, except for the flowers in the office around the corner. Those were all trashed.”
Sophie stiffened. “My flowers were trashed? The ones in my office?”
The man scratched his head. “Is there another office loaded with more flowers than a cemetery?”
She merely shook her head.
“Then I guess that makes it your office,” he said, his focus directly on Sophie. “Any idea who’d do this?”
“I don’t know.” All she did know was that her life was completely out of control. First she’d been harassed last night and now this. She began to shake, trembling, unable to stop.
Her uncle wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay. We can talk about everything once you’ve calmed down.”
“Well, actually, it would help if we discussed possibilities now,” the cop said, “while everything’s still fresh. Has anything like this happened before?” He addressed Sophie.
“Hell, no!” Uncle Yank shouted. “If it had, I’d be the first to know.”
“Well actually, yes. Something unnerving happened last night,” Sophie said.
“What?” Uncle Yank asked.
“Where?” Lola demanded, her fear and concern etched in that one word.
“Why didn’t you call one of us?” Spencer asked.
Sophie ran a hand through her hair, pulling it out of its binding and not caring a bit. She turned to her well-meaning uncle, knowing how hard he’d take what she was about to say next.
“I don’t know where to begin. But even before last night, everything’s been wrong. All the flowers,” she said, her voice rising and the tension mounting as she thought of all she’d been through over the past few days. “That’s not normal. I mean, I don’t even know who sent over ninety-five percent of them. And the phone calls, the visits from total strangers. Men accosting me in the street. Does that sound okay?”
“Hell, no, it isn’t okay. Nobody bothers my niece.” Uncle Yank straightened his shoulders, but he must have stiffened and squeezed the dog too tight, because she barked and Lola grabbed her out of his arms.
“Well, it’s your fault!” Sophie shouted, unable to control her frustration. “You did that damn interview. You plastered my picture on the news, advertising me as single and desperate.”
“Now, Sophie, Yank never said you were desperate…” Lola’s voice trailed off. “Never mind.” She waved her hand, dismissing her words. She obviously realized the futility in defending her incorrigible husband.
“Your uncle only wants what’s best for you, even if he does have a unique way of expressing himself,” Spencer said.
Uncle Yank bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I love you. Spencer’s right. I only wanted what was best for you.”
“That’s why you look familiar,” the first officer said to Sophie, snapping his fingers as things became clear. “I saw you on TV.”
“Lucky me. One of the cable networks picked up on the story and all the desperate men of the world decided I was ripe for picking.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
She already had a headache and now she added fear to her problems. She was truly afraid of what this nutcase would do next, not that she’d tell her uncle as much and worry him more.
She reached out a hand and grabbed his forearm. “Look, I love you. I just want you to let me live my life in peace, the way I prefer it.”
He nodded. Sophie knew he understood and agreed—until this crisis passed and he picked up on his next bright idea.
“We’re going to need a list of everyone who sent you flowers. If you have the cards, we’ll take those. If not, just what you remember, including names and florists. We can run leads from there.”
“Okay. I can give you the cards as soon as you let me inside.” She’d make sure she handed over one man’s in particular, Sophie thought, recalling Steve Harris’s behavior last night. But she didn’t want to discuss that in front of her uncle. “The cards are in my desk,” she explained to the officer.
“She’s anal,” her uncle said proudly.
Sophie sighed.
“When you’re ready you can come down to the precinct and give a full statement. For now, is there anything else you can think of? Anyone in the office you fired, anyone who might be suspect?”
Suspect? “None of our employees would do something like this.”
“She’s right,” her uncle said.
Nobody mentioned their competition in the industry, but Sophie couldn’t help wondering if Cambias had anything to do with the break-in. She still questioned his motives for dating Cindy, and immediately felt guilty for her thoughts.
Sophie couldn’t bring herself to mention her friend’s boyfriend to the police without talking to Cindy first. After all, what did she have to go on other than instinct and dislike?
“We did have that computer glitch,” Lola said. “And we never did track down the source of the so-called virus. Our tech guys are suspicious, but whoever hacked in was so good, they can’t prove a thing.”
The cop continued to take notes.
Lola’s words took Sophie by surprise. She hadn’t even considered that the computer issue could be related to this break-in.
“Miss Jordan, you never did tell me what happened last night,” the policeman said, reminding her.
Needing a minute to compose herself, she shut her eyes. Riley’s face appeared in front of her, full-blown, providing comfort, reminding her he’d cared for her after she’d been accosted outside the bar.
Envisioning Riley gave her the strength to tell her story. “I went to Quarters with some friends last night,” she began.
“You went where?” Uncle Yank yelled. “What was my niece doing in that pickup joint?”
Lola groaned. “He’s leaving,” she promised Sophie and the police. “We’ll wait over here.” She prodded him over to the window ledge where Sophie had sat earlier.
Sophie just wanted the inquisition over. She folded her arms over her chest. “A guy sent over a bottle of wine. I turned him down and then he sent a bottle of champagne. I realized then that he’d also sent flowers and chocolates from my favorite store.” She drew a deep breath before continuing. “I sent the champagne back, too. But when I left to hail a cab, he was waiting for me outside.” She shivered at the memory.
What would have happened if Riley hadn’t shown up to scare him away? Sophie had no doubt she could handle herself, but whether or not she could best a determined man much taller and heavier than her, well…
“I asked if you caught his name,” the officer said.
She nodded. “Steve Harris.”
“Good.” He nodded approvingly. “We’ll check into him. Maybe he’s a regular. If we’re lucky, a bartender or waitress knows him.”
He jotted down the information and shoved his pad into his shirt pocket. “I’ll follow it up and get back to you. In the meantime, the forensics guys will run the information they collected. I’d appreciate it if you came by at your earliest convenience, okay?”
“She’ll be there,” Uncle Yank called from down the hall.
The cop shot her a sympathetic look.
“I’ll come by,” she promised.
“Thank you.” The officer gestured to the rest of his team, who’d almost finished packing up. “We’ll be in touch, folks. And Ms. Jordan?”
She inclined her head. “Yes?”
“Try not to go out alone.”