Carly Phillips - Hot Item

RILEY STRAIGHTENED his bow tie and held the door open for his date. Together they walked through the ballroom doors leading to Lola and Yank Morgan’s belated wedding reception. Riley had thought long and hard about whether or not to attend. He had more reasons to bail than to show up-from being in the same room with Atkins to facing Sophie for the first time since she ran out on him. But he had one major reason to come. Riley Nash had never run from a confrontation or situation in his life and he wasn’t about to do so now.

But he’d opted not to arrive alone. “You ready, beautiful?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Riley glanced into his daughter’s eyes. Despite all the turmoil of the past few weeks-or maybe because of it-he’d never been as proud of Lizzie as he was lately. First, she’d owned up to her mistake and seemed to really understand how widespread the repercussions of her actions were. She hadn’t just betrayed a confidence, she’d potentially affected her grandfather’s career. Although she couldn’t undo the telling of the secret, she was trying to behave in a more mature way.

She’d also agreed to therapy. Weekly sessions with a psychologist to help her deal with her anger and her issues. There was the occasional family session thrown in for good measure, which didn’t thrill Riley, but he’d do anything for his daughter.

They walked inside arm in arm. Riley didn’t immediately see the guests of honor, nor did he catch a glimpse of the Jordan sisters or his errant father.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “How about a drink?” he asked Lizzie. “Want a Shirley Temple?”

“Da-a-a-d!” she said, appalled.

He winked and refrained from ruffling her professionally blow-dried hair. “Can’t blame a father for trying to keep his best girl a little girl.”

He leaned against the bar and when the attendant looked his way, Riley said, “Two Cokes, please.” No reason to drink with Lizzie around and every reason to keep his wits about him tonight.

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d make it tonight,” a familiar voice said.

Riley waited for the drinks, handed one to Lizzie and turned slowly to face his real father. “I wasn’t sure myself,” he admitted.

Considering this was the first time the two men had been in the same room together since being publicly outed as father and son, Riley tried not to squirm under the other man’s obvious scrutiny.

“May I say that I’m glad you’re here?” Spencer asked.

“You can say whatever you want.” Riley had been about to add, It’s a free country, when he noticed Lizzie’s wide-eyed stare.

She’d obviously caught the undercurrents between the two men and Riley knew she’d seen the pictures in the newspaper of Riley and Spencer side by side. No question, Lizzie was aware that this man was Riley’s real father.

At that moment, Riley realized he had a choice. He could walk away, as his gut instinct told him to do, or he could stay and talk to Spencer Atkins, as his rapidly beating heart was asking him to do. He could show his daughter that the solution to difficult situations was to run away or he could teach her to stand tall and face her fears.

“Can I order you a drink?” Riley asked the older man. As an olive branch, it wasn’t much, but it was the best Riley could do under the circumstances.

“No, thank you.” Spencer shook his head, but relief flickered in his eyes. He’d probably been expecting something along the lines of a brush-off and cold shoulder, Riley thought.

But then Riley would lose the chance of getting to know his real father, even for a few brief minutes. Now that their connection was known, no more harm could come to Harlan’s career.

He was forced to acknowledge the fact that he had many questions to ask Spencer and little time. Unless he took a step toward opening up to his father. Then perhaps the other man would meet him halfway. Stranger things had happened lately, Riley thought. And he had just the icebreaker with which to begin.

Riley cleared his throat. “Elizabeth, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He wrapped his arm around Lizzie’s waist, pulling her close. “Spencer Atkins, this is your granddaughter, Elizabeth. We call her Lizzie.” Riley smiled, unable to contain his pride in the young woman she was becoming. “Lizzie, this is…” He stammered over his choice of words.

“I’m Spencer Atkins,” the other man said, helping Riley out. “I’m-”

“My grandfather,” Lizzie said. “Well, one of my grandfathers. I already have Grandpa Harlan.”

“I’m hoping you have room for one more.”

“Sure,” Lizzie said, and shrugged, as if all this blended, extended family stuff was commonplace.

In her life, Riley supposed it was.

“Well, good. But a beautiful girl like you can call me whatever you like,” Spencer said, grinning.

“Watch out,” Riley warned. “Give her an opening like that and you just might hang yourself.” Riley couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey! I’m not that bad. Give me some credit!” Lizzie said, blushing.

“This from the girl who’s just now working her way back into everyone’s good graces? I think there’s someone else you should apologize to for spilling the beans.” Suddenly he was no longer thirsty. Riley placed his untouched glass back on the bar and waited for his daughter’s defiant outburst.

But to his never-ending shock, Lizzie didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said to Spencer. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” She glanced down and away.

Spencer’s eyes opened wide, stunned at her admission. “That’s a very mature thing for you to admit,” he said at last.

“My shrink says taking responsibility is important.” She glanced around the room, suddenly distracted. “Hey, Dad, isn’t that Brandon Vaughn?” She pointed to the retired football player who’d married Sophie’s sister Annabelle.

Riley felt certain the middle sister couldn’t be far away and he stiffened in preparation for that meeting, as well.

“It sure is Brandon Vaughn,” Spencer said, before Riley could respond. “Would you like me to introduce you?” Spencer asked.

Lizzie’s head bobbed up and down. “Can I go with him, Dad? Please?”

Riley didn’t hesitate. “Of course you can go.”

Over Lizzie’s head and eager bouncing, Spencer met Riley’s gaze-gratitude, appreciation and more in his solemn expression.

A silent understanding had just passed between them, Riley realized. The first awkward bridge had been crossed.

As he watched his daughter, his pride and joy, walk off with her grandfather, an unfamiliar emotion swelled in his throat. Lizzie would have another adult to look up to in her life.

It came at an important juncture, when she was impressionable and vulnerable all at the same time. There had been a time when Riley wouldn’t have envisioned Spencer Atkins as any kind of role model, especially not for Lizzie. But so much had changed in such a short time.

Nothing could alter the fact that the other man had ignored Riley for the first part of his life. But Riley had also learned that Spencer hadn’t lived a carefree existence during these past years. He’d suffered plenty, too. Riley admitted to being curious about the details, and he’d always had a burning desire to understand the father he’d never really known. He finally had his chance.

There was nothing except his pride to prevent them from going forward from here and he wasn’t about to let it get in the way of what he’d wanted his entire life.

SOPHIE WAS RUNNING LATE. Unintentionally, but she was still going to end up making an obvious entrance. That was something she’d have preferred to avoid, but not even her uncle’s wedding reception could change the fact that she had an upset client who’d demanded her attention.

But she was here now, and though she’d spent hours planning the details of this event, tonight she was simply a guest. Lola had hired a staff to see that the night ran smoothly. Sophie would rather be preoccupied with the details, but Lola had insisted she relax and enjoy the evening.

She smoothed the beading on her long gown, drew a deep breath and walked inside the ballroom of the beautiful hotel.

“You’re late!” Annabelle grabbed Sophie’s arm the moment she set foot inside the room.

“I had a work-related emergency.”

“Nothing serious, I hope?” Annabelle asked.

Sophie shook her head.

Annabelle exhaled with relief. “It’s just that the break-in and other problems are still fresh in my mind.”

“Mine, too,” Sophie admitted. “Spencer said he’d taken care of things. He won’t say what he did or who was responsible, but he swears it’s over. And you know Spencer-when he holds on to a secret, nobody finds out.”

“Not for decades anyway,” Annabelle said wryly. “Okay, on to other things. You look beautiful,” she said, kissing Sophie’s cheek.

“Thanks.” Sophie stepped back and took in her sister’s formfitting light blue gown that set off the color of her eyes.

Annabelle’s pregnancy was over but its effects remained, her already voluptuous curves even more pronounced. As always, Annabelle looked statuesque and gorgeous, Sophie thought. “You look fabulous yourself.”

“I second that.” Annabelle’s husband, ex-pro football player Brandon Vaughn, came up beside his wife, linking his arm through hers. He turned to Sophie and grinned. “You’re looking pretty damn good, too, little sister.” Vaughn treated her to a brotherly wink.

Sophie laughed. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” she said, taking in his black European-cut tuxedo.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t boost his ego. He already thinks he’s the stud of the night.” But it was obvious by the way she devoured her husband with her eyes that Annabelle agreed with Sophie’s assessment.