Hot Item (Hot Zone 3)

“He said he’d call you back.”

The young girl let out a prolonged sigh and Sophie gripped the receiver hard, preparing for an argument.

“Okay, just tell him it’s important. Life-or-death important.” But the bored tone sounded anything but distressed.

A pop sounded in Sophie’s ear. Bubble gum? she wondered. “I’ll give him the message.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Click.

Left holding a dead phone in her hand, Sophie merely blinked before hanging up and easing herself down onto the bed. Her body still tingled, a delicious reminder of what they’d just shared. She shivered and rubbed her bare hands up and down her arms. She would have thought their behavior was as juvenile as two teenagers behind the school, except her feelings were far more adult and intense.

Riley strode out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair as he came up beside her. “What’d Lizzie have to say?”

“I don’t think she likes me,” Sophie said, recalling the young girl’s defensive attitude that had quickly turned bored and dismissive.

He slung the towel around his neck and laughed. “She doesn’t know you.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me she wouldn’t want to. Let me guess. Daddy’s little girl?”

Riley’s mouth lifted in a grin that said it all.

Just what Sophie didn’t need—a teenager with an attitude and a proprietary air about her father.

Riley winked at Sophie before he picked up the phone to call his daughter.

Lizzie answered on the first ring. “Dad?”

Hearing her voice warmed him. “Hey, Lizzie baby, how are you?”

“Not good! Mom’s being so unfair!”

He rolled his eyes at the familiar refrain. “What’s going on?”

“My friends are going to the Seaport and she won’t let me go.”

Riley didn’t have to see the pout to know it was on his daughter’s face. He hated her being unhappy and wanted to fix whatever went wrong. Sometimes Lisa drove him crazy with her rules. In this case he didn’t see what was wrong with shopping with friends.

“When’s the day?” he asked.

“Next week. We have school vacation, remember?”

He lowered himself onto the bed. “Of course I remember. We’re going to Playland sometime next week, right?”

“Yeah. Right. But I really want to go to the Seaport and Mom says I can’t go unchaperoned at night.”

“Night?” he asked, his ears perking up.

“Evening,” she said, clarifying. “Like five o’clock.”

Happy hour, he thought. “Who would be there?”

“Dad!”

He chuckled at her outrage. “I have to ask. Now spill. Something has your mother upset enough to say no.” Aside from the hour, which would inevitably turn into eight or nine o’clock.

“Miranda and Ashley,” she said, naming her two best friends. “And their parents already said yes.”

Riley reserved judgment on that bit of news. These kids were notorious for telling each set of parents that the others had already agreed, hoping to sway things their way.