Hot Item (Hot Zone 3)

SOPHIE CLIMBED on top of the bed in the comfortable guest room. One of about four guest rooms, if she’d counted correctly. The stately mansion befitted the senator and his family, gorgeous yet homey at the same time. She yawned and stretched, snuggling into the huge bed. Her exhaustion came more from travel than anything else she’d done today.

Along with Riley’s mother, she’d taken a tour of the town, and then Anne had shown her the capitol, half an hour away. Sophie had enjoyed her time with Riley’s mother. The other woman had chatted about everything and anything, including stories about Riley as an incorrigible youth. The bond between mother and son was obviously strong, yet Anne hadn’t made Sophie feel like an intruder at all. In fact, his mother had commented on the fact that Riley had never brought a woman from New York back home with him before.

Still feeling warm and fuzzy from that comment, as well as from the Lizzie-less dinner, as the teen had gone for pizza with local friends, Sophie knew she wouldn’t unwind fully unless she mapped out the possibilities of who was stalking her back home. She pulled a pen and pad from her travel bag and began to take notes. Steve Harris and Miguel Cambias topped her list. They both had motive. Miguel had already proved himself adept at gaining what he wanted, be it Cindy or an athlete he wanted to represent, while Steve Harris had shown his ability to dig into her life.

But only Cambias had opportunity because of his access to Sophie and Athletes Only via Cindy. Sophie had no doubt her friend was an unwitting accomplice if it was Miguel who was looking to divert her uncle’s and Spencer’s attention from the draft. Yet she wasn’t convinced the man would go that far and she didn’t want to think he’d use Cindy as a means to an end. She sighed, no further along in her thoughts than she had been after talking with the police following the break-in at the office.

Somehow the knock on the door a few minutes later didn’t surprise her and it provided a welcome distraction. “Come in.” She laid the book on her lap and waited for Riley to let himself inside.

He walked in, dressed in faded jeans and a light blue T-shirt. Still sexy with the shadow of a day’s growth of beard. Still so appealing and desirable.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She blushed and grinned. “Hey, yourself.”

He lowered himself onto the mattress, his thigh touching hers. “Working?” He picked up the notebook, took in the scrawled names and frowned. “I’d rather you were working than dwelling on this.”

She shrugged. “I have to figure out who’s doing this.”

He shook his head. “That’s a job for the cops. I brought you down here to get away from it all and that’s what we’re going to do.”

She raised an eyebrow, definitely interested. “What did you have in mind?”

“Would you believe my father still has a vintage Corvette convertible? I thought we’d drive around, I’d show you the sights at night and we could end up at the local parking spot.”

She couldn’t help the smile pulling at her lips. “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” she asked, teasing him.

“Lizzie’s been asleep for hours and I can’t think of anyone else who’d care. What do you say?” He leaned forward, his lips inches from hers. “When was the last time you experienced some good old-fashioned necking?”

She couldn’t resist him on a good day, let alone on one when her defenses were down and she was on his turf. She was still in self-protection mode, but she wasn’t about to turn down what was probably her last opportunity to be with him.

“I need to change first.”

He glanced down, his attention settling on the cleavage revealed by her favorite lemon-colored satin camisole, then traveling down the length of her matching drawstring pants. He trailed a finger over one bare shoulder, his roughened skin caressing her flesh. She shivered, feeling her nipples pucker into tight peaks and knowing for certain he noticed them, as well.

“We could stay here,” he said, tempting her even more.

She swallowed hard. “And definitely risk getting caught.” Suddenly taking that convertible ride sounded even more appealing.

She scooted around him and poked through the drawers for a bra and shirt, then grabbed jeans from the closet. “Be out in a sec,” she promised, closing herself in the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, they drove through the gates and into the muggy night air. A cool breeze didn’t lessen the high humidity but Sophie didn’t mind.

She was in a vintage convertible, Riley by her side and her problems back home in New York. How could she complain about that?

He drove down a dark stretch of road, made a sharp right and suddenly a school came into view.

“Is this your high school?” Sophie asked, glancing at his profile.

He nodded. “Brandon High,” he said, laughing. “And that field over there?” He gestured with a wave of his hand to the football field, complete with electronic scoreboard. “Riley Nash Field.”

She squinted, unable to read the writing on the sign. “You lie.”

He laughed. “Yeah. But they should name that place after me. I scored enough goals to earn it,” he said with a g

rin.

“Your lack of modesty is unbelievable.” But it was one of the things she admired about him.