Hot Item (Hot Zone 3)

“Let me get you home,” he said in a voice rough with desire.

Sophie stepped back. “This is where I should tell you I can get home all by myself.” But she was too tired to play games and too scared to actually let him leave. And she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

She ran her hand through her hair. “My uncle means well, but someday he’s going to be the death of me. Things were awkward after he did the initial interview, but since Dateline picked up on the idea, lunatics have been coming out of the woodwork.”

Riley frowned. “You didn’t say anything about that today.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t think it would get so out of hand. Besides you’re not responsible for me.” Even if she liked it when he took charge.

Sometimes she grew tired of being the one who oversaw everything in order to prevent problems or tragedy. As if she could control such an outcome anyway.

He strode into the street and held his hand in the air, flagging a cab. “Since you’re not planning on telling me to take a hike, let’s get out of here.”

As soon as the cab screeched to a halt, Riley opened the door and waited for her to climb in before sliding in beside her. Sophie gave her address to the driver and settled in for the short ride. Riley didn’t crowd her in the back seat and, as much as she appreciated the sentiment, she craved his arms around her and the security he offered more.

Before she could act on her feelings, they pulled up to her building. “We’re here.” The driver stopped the meter.

Riley pulled cash out of his pocket and slipped it through the Plexiglas divider. “Keep the change.”

A few minutes later, she let Riley into her apartment for the first time. He stalked the place, a man unashamed to study the unfamiliar environment and take it all in.

Her cheeks flamed as he studied her wall of photographs. Each had been meticulously chosen and framed by Sophie herself. They were spaced one inch apart on the wall directly across from her bedroom, so she could make out the outline of each picture at night. Even if she couldn’t see the individual photos, Sophie knew which picture held which place, and why.

She swallowed hard. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He straightened from where he’d focused on a photograph of Sophie, Annabelle and Micki, taken the day they’d come to live with Uncle Yank. Each sister wore a matching frilly dress in order to make a good impression. What the picture didn’t show was the bow on each of their behinds, she remembered, and laughed aloud.

He shot her a curious look at her abrupt outburst. “I’d love a Coke. I’m thirsty.”

“Coke it is,” she said, grateful for something to keep her busy.

“What was so funny?”

She pulled a can from the cabinet and filled two glasses with ice, dividing the soda between them. “I was just wondering what Uncle Yank must have thought when he saw the three of us for the first time.” She handed him his glass.

“He probably calculated the distance to the nearest exit.” Riley grinned.

She smiled. “No kidding. I don’t know how he did it,” she murmured. “I was always so afraid he’d go away and leave us alone the way Mom and Dad had.” They walked to the sofa and she settled in, curling her legs beneath her.

Riley sat beside her, his knee touching hers. He remained silent, obviously giving her time to think and relax. She was grateful for the security he brought her and, for now, their earlier disagreements and all they didn’t have in common faded away.

“You’d think that after all these years, those issues and insecurities would disappear.” She placed her glass on a coaster on her cocktail table.

He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I mean, if childhood crap didn’t stay with us, shrinks would be out of business.”

She laughed, but knew that deep down he was also referring to his own issues. It helped to know she wasn’t alone.

Sophie yawned suddenly, the events of the night taking their toll, especially now with the danger gone and the rush of adrenaline dissipating fast.

“Come on. Off to bed.” He held out his hand.

In his eyes, she saw warmth and caring. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t view the flicker of desire in their brown depths, a desire that had stirred to life inside her, too.

He must have sensed her hesitation, because he lowered his hand to his lap and curled it into a fist. “I’m not going to attack you in your bedroom, Soph. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

A huge lump formed in her throat. Not because she’d insulted him, but because she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken care of her, without her pulling the strings behind the scenes. Before she knew it, an actual tear fell down her cheek. She wiped the moisture away with the back of her hand.

“I didn’t think for one second that you’d take advantage of me,” she whispered.