Carly Phillips: Hot Item

He folded his arms across his chest. He hated the subject, never mind that he’d opened this Pandora’s box. “So?”

“So considering the news currently circulating, forgive me if I question your story, as well as your motives for wanting to see Spencer.”

He wasn’t surprised she had the guts to stand up to him. After all, she was one of the top publicists in a male-dominated market.

He raised an eyebrow. “The man was just outed. Do you really think I’d pick this particular time to announce my relationship to Atkins unless it was true?”

She paused, then slowly nodded, acknowledging his point.

Although she accepted his argument, he couldn’t ignore how she’d leaped to Spencer’s defense. “So what are you? Atkins’s protector?”

She squared her shoulders. “Don’t underestimate me because I’m a woman, Nash. We’re like family around here. What affects one of us affects us all.”

How nice that Atkins had family here when he’d so deliberately ignored his own. Her words shouldn’t have hurt but they did. They sliced like a knife inside Riley’s chest. Unfortunately they didn’t diminish the need for him to talk to the old man.

Since the Atkins and Hot Zone merger, Riley had done all his agency business over the phone. He hadn’t wanted to risk running into his father. Now that was exactly what he wished to do.

He needed to reach Atkins and ensure the man’s silence, as he’d promised his mother when she’d called in a panic earlier. Which meant he also needed Sophie and whatever connections she had.

He had no choice but to spill his guts. “Whether or not he’s ever acknowledged the fact, I am Spencer Atkins’s son. Actually, I’m just another of his dirty little secrets, but this secret affects more than just him. I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

Sophie’s expression softened. “I would tell him if I could. Unfortunately, Spencer has been out of touch for three days. And while we’re sharing secrets, I should add if we don’t get in touch with him soon, the agency will lose the first-round pick in the football draft.” She expelled a frustrated breath. “So can you help me?”

Apparently she needed him, too, putting them on more equal ground. The notion eased the vise squeezing his chest. “I haven’t been in contact with Spencer in the past few days, either.” He deliberately left out his lack of a relationship with the older man up until now. “But I can make some calls and see if anyone in my family has any ideas about where he might go.” Starting with his mother, Riley thought. It may have been years since she and Spencer had spoken, but maybe she remembered some relatives or someplace he liked to hide out.

“Feel free.” Sophie gestured to the phone on her desk.

He strode over and sat down. A howl sounded loud and shrill in his ears at the same time he jumped off something warm and soft. He glanced down. A white curly-haired mutt glared at him from Sophie’s desk chair.

Sophie laughed, a light, carefree sound, so opposite from her normally uptight voice he was astounded. It made him want to see her loosen up in every way.

“Something funny?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just didn’t realize Noodle had switched seats.”

“Better to sit on the dog than on dog-”

She cleared her throat, cutting him off.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.” This time he chuckled. “How do I get an outside line? Need to dial nine?”

She shook her head. “Just pick up the phone and press any free line.”

Resigned, Riley dialed his mother and had mixed feelings when she wasn’t home to take his call. On the one hand he was grateful he wouldn’t have to upset her by discussing Spencer again, and on the other hand he was aggravated he’d have to spend more time on this search.

“Hi, Frannie. Come on in.” Sophie’s voice interrupted his thoughts as an older woman with gray hair walked into the room, a piece of paper in hand.

“Spencer has two sisters and a niece who live in Florida,” the other woman said.

Sophie nodded. She knew he had family in Fort Lauderdale.

“He’s always calling them and sometimes he goes there to visit. Number’s on the paper here.” Frannie waved the yellow sheath in her hand. “He also owns a time-share in Aruba but it’s rented now, so I can’t see him going there. Then again if we knew whether or not he took his passport…”

Sophie shook her head. “No way of knowing that. Let’s start with family.” She glanced at Riley through half-lowered lashes.

“Oh my! I didn’t realize you had company. I should have knocked.”

“That’s okay. This is an emergency. Besides, Mr. Nash is a client of Uncle Yank’s.” She paused. “He’s also a client of mine and we can trust him.”

Frannie smiled. “Okay then. I’ll be at my desk if you need me, though I have to warn you about something.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow.

“Spencer’s sisters are eccentric, to quote his words.”

“Whatever that means, but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks.”

“They’re also not answering the phone and there’s no machine to record a message. Oh, and John Cashman called. Again.”

“This isn’t happening.” With a groan, Sophie flung herself into the nearest chair, more flustered than he’d ever seen before. “Maybe Spencer’s sisters are on vacation, but that doesn’t mean Spencer couldn’t be there anyway and not taking calls.”

Frannie shook her head. “They don’t travel. Like I said, eccentric. But you’re right. That doesn’t rule out the possibility that Spencer went to his sisters’ until the heat here in New York dies down.”

So he had run off, Riley thought. He didn’t blame the man for wanting to avoid the scandal, but he hated to think his father was a coward.

“Frannie, do you have an address for his sisters?” Sophie asked.

She nodded. “On the paper.” She handed Sophie the page. “Just buzz me if you need me.”

“Will do and thanks again,” Sophie said, gratitude evident in her tone.

Once the other woman had let herself out and shut the door, Sophie glanced at the paper before turning to Riley. Her eyes seemed wider, a mixture of concern and hope in their blue depths.

“If Spencer’s sisters don’t answer the phone, it looks like I’m headed for Fort Lauderdale. I need to talk to Spencer in person and figure out a game plan.”

Her intentions were too vague, Riley thought. He glanced at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze while he took time to think. If he let her go to Florida alone and she didn’t find Spencer, no harm done. If she did find the old man, Riley needed to know whether she would convince Atkins to spill his guts to the media in a sympathy play. If so, he might reveal more than the truth about his sexual orientation, and that might include Riley’s parentage.

“Once you find Spencer, all you want is for him to get in touch with his clients?” Riley asked.

“In part. I want to save the potential clients and calm his current ones.”

Apparently the frenzy surrounding this story went deep. They didn’t have time for a long conversation on how other athletes were handling the news, but Riley was curious. Personally, he had no problem with anyone’s sexual orientation. He just wished it wasn’t his biological father who’d come out. During his stepfather’s election year, no less.

Sophie had begun pacing the floor of her office. He glanced at her face and realized she was counting her steps. “Why the hell are you doing that?”

“Twenty-four, twenty-five.” She stopped at a closed door. “Routine gives me comfort,” she explained.

Anal and compulsive, he thought, and didn’t have to wonder how she’d handle his fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants approach to life. Not well.