Hot Item (Hot Zone 3)

Not a good sign as far as Sophie was concerned. He was obviously blocking her out. She wished she could close her eyes and have the floor swallow her whole.

He remained silent, obviously waiting for her to continue her pathetic explanation.

She might as well oblige or else she wouldn’t be getting out of here any time soon and her humiliation would continue. He couldn’t make it any clearer that he didn’t need or want her compassion or understanding.

She shrugged uselessly. “That’s it. I thought you might need a friend. Obviously I was wrong.”

“A friend.” A ruddy stain rose to his cheeks and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “You thought I might need a friend.” He repeated her words with complete disgust in his tone. “Well, isn’t that special? You know what, Sophie? I have plenty of friends. Dozens, in fact. If I wanted to pour my heart out about my newly revealed gay father, I could turn to any number of people in my life. Hell, I could book an interview on Access Hollywood and talk to the goddamn nation!” he said, his voice rising.

She stepped back, away from his anger. “I really should go.”

“The hell you will. You came here to offer your friendship and now I’m going to have my say before you leave.”

In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen this side of him. She wasn’t afraid of Riley, she never could be. But she’d obviously hit a tender nerve and though she didn’t understand, she desperately wanted to.

“Go on.” Her words came out more like a croak.

“Do you want to know where I was when I found out that the world knew Spencer Atkins is my father?”

She blinked, waiting.

“I was on my way to see you. Want to know why?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’d decided I was finished giving you time and space. I’d decided to lay it on the line and tell you that I love you.”

His words hit her like a sucker punch in the stomach, hard and painful, and unexpected and sweet all at the same time. Her chest hurt as emotion and anxiety lodged there and remained.

“I didn’t know. You never—”

“Came around or told you.” He treated her to a grim smile. “In the disaster that followed, you left messages checking in on me.”

She nodded again. “You never returned my calls.”

“Because I realized that you only call or show up when things go wrong. When you can take control and do what Sophie Jordan does best—dig up the facts, tell people how to handle things and generally run the show—you’re a great sister and I bet you’re an even better friend.”

He wasn’t exactly listing bad qualities. Confusion raced through her. “I don’t understand.”

He tipped his head to the side and studied her. “The thing is, I don’t need another friend. I love you, Sophie Jordan. But I want the person I love to be by my side in good times and in bad. I don’t want someone who shows up to lend a shoulder and who runs away from things that feel too good.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” he said emphatically. “You most certainly do run away any time you think I’ve gotten too close.” He slowly stepped closer, invading her space.

She couldn’t breathe as it was, but now when she inhaled she was overcome by his scent, by all that was Riley, and was forced to admit to herself she loved him, too.

She just couldn’t say the words out loud, fear pummeling her from all sides. And the more he spoke, the more she realized he knew her better than she knew herself.

He placed an arm against the wall above her head. “You lost your parents and you cope by controlling things around you, but here’s the kicker. You can’t control love. And that scares you so badly you’re willing to walk away from a damn good thing before I leave you first. Or before, on the off chance, something happens and I die on you. Just as your parents did,” he said, his voice softening, melting her defenses and breaking her heart.

Tears filled her eyes and she didn’t bother to wipe them away, nor could she summon a reply for Riley. She didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him because he was so dead-on accurate it was scary.

Cindy had said much the same things, but coming from a friend, it had sounded like psychobabble. Coming from the man who was causing all the emotional turmoil gave it that much more impact.

“Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to return the sentiment.” His eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and disappointment at the same time. “But that’s my whole point. You can’t say the words. Hell, I don’t even know if you can feel them.” He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it spiked and disheveled.

“That’s unfair.” Sophie trembled, unable to believe the depths to which this conversation had gone. “I didn’t even know how you felt before now.”

“Would it have mattered?” He set his jaw, his mind obviously already made up.

She looked inside her heart and asked that same question. Would it have mattered? Could she commit to him even now that she knew he was in love with her? Could she give him the words he wanted to hear, knowing she was in love with him, too?