Carly Phillips - Hot Item

As if anticipating her next move, Riley stood so she could exit the row and head back to the restrooms. His coloring was ruddy as he tried without success not to laugh at her.

So far, this wasn’t a flight she wanted to remember and she just hoped it wasn’t an omen for their quest to find Spencer. Holding on to the seat tops to steady herself, she walked quickly down the aisle toward the lavatories. Thank God one of them was vacant and she let herself inside.

“Wait.”

At the sound of Riley’s voice, she paused, giving him time to place his foot inside, preventing her from closing the door.

She looked at his sexy face and her heart rate picked up speed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Joining you.” A hint of a challenge tinged his voice and a teasing smile curved his lips.

“No!” She summoned outrage when she was really intrigued.

“Come on, sugar. I want to help you.” He leaned a broad arm against the small opening.

This wasn’t the first time she’d heard a hint of a Southern accent and she wondered where he was raised, but inquisition and conversation could come later.

She licked her too-dry lips. “Thanks but I can handle cleaning up all by myself.”

“So you clean and I’ll watch. It’ll give me a chance to talk to you in private.”

She panicked, not from fear but from the overwhelming desire to get up close and personal with this man who was everything she normally avoided.

Sophie dated men who were safe. Men who didn’t flirt with every woman they met. Men who weren’t demanding. Men who didn’t put their feet into her personal space and insist they get their way. Yet, though it galled her to admit it, there was something inherently arousing about his dominance.

“There’s no room in here.” She gestured to the small space behind her in a last feeble attempt to do the right thing.

The safe, expected thing.

He pushed the door open farther with his knee and wedged his big body inside, forcing her to step back. Then she heard a loud click as the lock slid into place and the dim light went on overhead ensuring the sign outside the door read Occupied.

They were completely alone and very, very close.

RILEY DIDN’T KNOW what had gotten into him. One minute he’d been ignoring Sophie and her pissy attitude and the next he was enjoying making her squirm. She couldn’t handle the sexual banter without blushing a hot shade of red, which only made him want to push her buttons even more.

She was cute when she was mad but when piqued by jealousy, like when she hadn’t been sure who Elizabeth was, Sophie was downright sexy. He’d followed her into the small bathroom to…what?

“I’m not joining the mile-high club with you.” She glared at him, but those wide blue eyes flashed with definite interest, contradicting her words.

“And here I thought you were already a member,” he said.

No way had she ever had sex anywhere but a bedroom. He’d bet his Super Bowl ring on it. Suddenly the thought of initiating her to sex in different places and positions held great appeal. He had a damn hard-on to prove it.

Shit.

This wasn’t the first time his impulsive behavior had gotten him into trouble. Like the time he’d been caught making out with the teaching assistant in the janitor’s room in college. The difference was, the T.A. had been older and willing.

Sophie, for all her N.Y.C. chic, was definitely a lady in every sense of the term. It was part of what drew him to her, Riley knew. The lure of someone different, someone special.

She deserved better than a quickie in the sky, no matter how much fun it might be. To distract himself, he reached over and pulled some paper towels from the holder, dampened them and began to blot her shirt where the wine had stained.

He gritted his teeth, determined to ignore her full breasts and pointed nipples. Perfectly rounded breasts and hardened tips just made for a man to suckle and tease. He tried to focus instead on her flat belly, where the liquid had concentrated.

She grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Seriously, Riley. What are you doing in here?”

He groaned. Good question. One he was still trying to sort through himself. No way would he admit he’d just followed her on impulse. “Since we’re going to be spending time together, I thought we could come to an understanding.”

She shifted in an obvious attempt to get more comfortable in the cramped space, but her thighs came in direct contact with his and the flame burned hotter. Her sweet sugary scent, more refined and classy than most women’s, sent his already heightened senses soaring.

Sophie drew in a startled breath, an admission that the awareness between them definitely wasn’t one-sided. Yet she sighed in clear annoyance.

“Just what did I do to piss you off so badly?” he asked.

“You were late. ” She said the word as if he’d committed a cardinal sin.

She turned toward the mirror and he followed her stare so she was unable to look there without seeing his shocked expression. “That’s it?” he asked. “I arrived a few minutes late and you’re holding it against me?”

“It was rude! We agreed to meet before the flight. You left me wondering if you were even going to make it in time.” Her voice quivered and she glanced the opposite way, this time toward the safety of the empty wall. “I told you routine gives me comfort.” She spoke the last words softly.

A quiet admission of weakness, Riley thought.

Aw, hell. He hadn’t meant to alarm her. He’d forgotten how seriously Sophie took life. Even with the dim lighting in the restroom, he could see her cheeks had turned pink and she’d sucked her lower lip into her mouth, embarrassed at admitting her neuroses aloud.

“Hey,” he said, softly. “I said I’d be here.”

“And I was supposed to take your word for it? The minutes ticked by and boarding had begun-”

“Were the cabin doors closed?”

She shook her head.

“Well then, there was still plenty of time for me to arrive.”

“I don’t work that way. I don’t think that way. I plan ahead. And right now I need to find Spencer before my whole place of business falls apart. I have Cambias sniffing around and no sign of Spencer. He said he’d be in by nine on Monday and he wasn’t. You said you’d meet me at the gate,” she said, the implication clear.

He’d let her down. The thought didn’t sit well with him. Not a normal reaction for a man who did his own thing on his own schedule and answered to no one.

Most people accepted his behavior.

Sophie wasn’t most people.

She folded her arms across her chest, as if that would provide a barrier between him and her emotions. Between them.

As if.

He placed a hand beneath her chin and turned her face toward him. Her skin was softer than anything he’d touched before and his gut churned with the sudden desire to kiss her lips and see if that pink pout felt as seductive as it looked. If her mouth tasted like the sweet heaven he imagined.

He shook his head to redirect his thoughts. He and Sophie had a mutual goal. To find his father and smooth over the mess created by the media. Not to create another one at thirty thousand feet.

To that end, they needed each other. “Look, I’m just not used to answering to anyone except Lizzie.”

Sophie blinked, probably as startled by his semi-apology as he was.

“That’s what you call your daughter, Elizabeth?” she said.

He nodded, the old familiar pride welling inside him. Lizzie was Riley’s whole world and he’d do right by her in ways his biological parent had never done by him. He’d be there for her and she’d know her daddy loved her.

“Lizzie’s thirteen going on eighteen. She has attitude up the wazoo and some discipline problems at school, but she’s smart and special and gorgeous. And I’m going to have to buy a shotgun to keep the hormonal idiots away,” he said, awed as always by the young lady his daughter was becoming.