Riley nodded. “I’m-”

“Riley Nash, NY Giants. I think I’ve heard of you.” Damian laughed.

Riley nodded. “Same here, Fuller. Good to meet you in person.” He shook the other man’s hand.

Damian studied Riley for a moment, not hard to do when the sisters were preoccupied with each other. “Mind if I give you a piece of advice?”

Riley shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”

“The first thing is, don’t bother trying to step in between the sisters. Not now. Not ever.”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “In other words, grab my bag and call it a night?”

Damian nodded. “Sophie’s tough because she’s had to be. Middle-sister syndrome along with the same fear they all share of losing someone they fall in love with.” The other man slapped Riley on the back.

“Hey, it’s not like she’s professed her love to me,” Riley clarified.

Damian shrugged. “You’re obviously in deep with her and the only way to deal is to give her enough space to realize what she’s missing. Otherwise she’ll keep pushing you away and never be forced to look at herself in the mirror.”

Riley hefted his bag off the conveyor. “Did you become a shrink since retiring?”

“Nah. I just became part of the Jordan family. A guy learns about all the sisters real quick that way. And speaking of being part of the family-” Damian led Riley a short distance away from where Sophie and Micki were chatting, completely oblivious to the men.

“Yeah?” he asked, anxious to get home.

“Sophie’s my sister-in-law and that makes her family. So if you aren’t serious, get the hell out and don’t come back. Because if I see you again, I’m going to assume you mean business.”

Riley rolled his stiff shoulders back, stretching his tight muscles. “In other words, hurt her and I answer to you?”

“Something like that.”

Considering the shape he was currently in, Riley wasn’t worried. Not to mention the fact that he and Damian were in complete agreement where Sophie was concerned. “I only want her happiness,” he felt compelled to tell Sophie’s brother-in-law.

“Good. Then I won’t have to kick your ass,” Damian said, laughing.

Riley grinned. “No, but if you wouldn’t mind knocking some sense into your sister-in-law, I’d be mighty obliged,” he said in a thick Mississippi drawl.

Then, without saying goodbye to Sophie or Micki, he tossed his duffel over his shoulder and left the airport. Leaving Sophie on her own as she obviously desired.

Besides, if Damian was wrong and his absence didn’t make Sophie’s heart grow fonder, Riley would just turn around and kick the other man’s ass.

A FEW DAYS AFTER Sophie’s return, the partners gathered in the boardroom. Uncle Yank glanced around, and obviously satisfied, began to call their meeting to order. “The weekly meeting of The Hot Zone-”

Spencer cleared his throat loudly.

Uncle Yank frowned but got the message and started over. “The weekly meeting of Athletes Only and The Hot Zone will now come to order.” Uncle Yank rapped his gavel, given to him by Judge Judy, on the table with such glee that Sophie jumped in her seat.

He lived for this gig, Sophie thought.

“The secretary should note that all partners are present and accounted for.” His gaze settled on Lola, who sat next to him, doodling but not taking notes.

“I said, the secretary should note that all partners are present and accounted for.” He nudged his wife with his elbow. “Lola, honey, you’re the secretary. That means you take the notes.”

“That’s what I’m doing. Or don’t you hear my pen moving on the paper? I thought you told me that when the sight goes, the other senses get heightened?” Lola asked too sweetly.

Uh-oh. Sophie and her sisters shared amused glances. Obviously husband and wife were arguing again, which, considering the parties involved were Yank and Lola, wasn’t a great surprise, nor was it a cause for worry. It was status quo.

“You’re scribblin’ circles, honey,” he said through gritted teeth.

Lola glanced up from her paper. “I wouldn’t have thought you could see the difference, dear.”

“Oh Lord. Are we going to witness a family squabble?” Spencer asked.

Sophie chuckled. “As if you didn’t know what it was like to be a part of this clan.”

“What in the world is going on now?” Annabelle asked.

Lola placed her pen down on her pad. “I came home early yesterday and found your uncle making himself a tuna-fish sandwich.”

Everyone waited for the punch line.

“The tuna was in a Tupperware container in the fridge. I don’t need my full peepers to do that.” Yank defended himself, but the color high on his cheekbones said there was more.

“You were cutting a tomato with a serrated knife,” Lola said, her voice rising.

Yank exhaled a frustrated groan. “I’m not a child who needs his food cut up for him.”

“And I don’t intend to be married to a nine-fingered mutant pain in the ass. You push things too far, Yank Morgan. I know you. You’d cut off one finger at a time if it meant keeping your independence.” Lola gripped her pen tighter in her hand.

“I’m fine. It was just a little nick.” He held up the injured digit. His middle finger stuck straight up in the air, flipping the bird to everyone at the table.

Everyone, with the exception of Lola, snickered at the sight. The sad truth was that Lola had every right to be concerned, but as usual, Uncle Yank managed to turn the situation into a circus.

“I need the afternoon off,” Lola announced.

Spencer cleared his throat. “I don’t see a problem.”

“What for?” Yank demanded to know.

She met his gaze, a smug smile on her lips.

Sophie braced herself for whatever the other woman had in mind.

“I plan to go on over to Toys ’R’ Us. I’m going to purchase those babyproof locks so I can secure the drawers and cabinets,” she said to her husband.

“Oh no,” Micki muttered.

“Here we go,” Sophie agreed.

Uncle Yank rose from his chair. “The hell you will. You can’t lock me out of my own kitchen.”

Lola gathered her papers and stood, too. “Just watch me, you old coot. Someone has to protect you from yourself.” She straightened her shoulders and strode out of the room.

Yank followed right after her, arguing all the way.

The remaining partners glanced around the room.

Sophie grabbed the forgotten gavel and smacked it against the table. “I move we continue without them.”

“I second,” Annabelle said.

“Third.” Spencer nodded.

Sophie hit the table once more. “Motion passed.” She grinned. She could get used to this little bit of power, she thought, turning the gavel around in her hand.

“Okay, Little Miss Dictator,” Micki said, laughing. “What’s the first order of business?”

Although Sophie normally made notes on what they should cover in their weekly meeting, today Sophie’s pad was empty. Sort of like her life, she thought.

Since coming home from Mississippi, life had been as conspicuously quiet as it had been crazy busy before the trip. Although only three days had passed, she recognized the distinct change. No more break-ins, no sabotage, no problems. Eerie but true, Sophie thought. Meanwhile the police had come up blank on any leads. A niggling fear remained, but Sophie refused to live petrified until the next incident. For all she knew, whoever had started things had decided he had better things to do than harass her.

“We should discuss the draft,” Spencer said into the silence. “On the first day, Yank and I signed Cashman five minutes before the announcements began. Not only is he our client, but he’s signed with the team with the worst record, the San Francisco 49ers.” The team with the worst record always received the first pick in the draft.

Everyone around the table applauded. Although the Heisman winner always went to the most needy team in the league, they’d still accomplished much for their newly signed client.

“Did you have any problems with Miguel Cambias?” Sophie asked.

Spencer shook his head. “As a matter of fact, less than none. Go figure. He was present and active, but he didn’t go near Cashman.”

Sophie bit down on her lower lip. Had she targeted the man unfairly? She’d have to talk to Cindy, but her friend had taken the past few days off, and Sophie hadn’t had a chance to apologize again or see what her talk with Miguel had accomplished.

“Anything else on the agenda?” Micki asked.

They discussed the various open client files and agreed to wrap things up until next week. Then the partners headed back to their own offices.

Sophie didn’t stop to talk to Spencer alone because she was certain he had no desire to discuss Riley with her any more than she wanted to talk about Riley with him.

RILEY OPENED the pizza box so he and Lizzie could dig in. They each pulled out a slice of pepperoni pizza, took their cans of Coke and headed for his den with the big-screen TV. One of the perks of coming to Dad’s was that he let Lizzie eat dinner in front of the television. It was their guilty secret and, even with his new determination to be a real father and lay down rules, he wasn’t about to deny her this treat.

“So how’s school?” Riley asked.

She shrugged. “Mr. Gordon hates me.”

“Science, right?”

She nodded.

“How could anyone hate you?” he asked, looking proudly at his smart, gorgeous daughter and trying to suppress a grin.

She stuffed her mouth full with pizza, then said, “I studied all night and he gave me a seventy-four! Can you believe that?”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “Define all night. Was that all night in between your shower, blow-drying your hair, straightening your hair, talking on the phone and IMing your friends?”

A guilty flush stained her cheeks.

He didn’t envy his ex-wife her full-time job of keeping their child in line. “Sounds to me like you earned that seventy-four and Mr. Gordon doesn’t hate you as much as he’s giving you what you deserve.”