Hot Item (Hot Zone 3)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RILEY STRAIGHTENED his bow tie and held the door open for his date. Together they walked through the ballroom doors leading to Lola and Yank Morgan’s belated wedding reception. Riley had thought long and hard about whether or not to attend. He had more reasons to bail than to show up—from being in the same room with Atkins to facing Sophie for the first time since she ran out on him. But he had one major reason to come. Riley Nash had never run from a confrontation or situation in his life and he wasn’t about to do so now.

But he’d opted not to arrive alone. “You ready, beautiful?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Riley glanced into his daughter’s eyes. Despite all the turmoil of the past few weeks—or maybe because of it—he’d never been as proud of Lizzie as he was lately. First, she’d owned up to her mistake and seemed to really understand how widespread the repercussions of her actions were. She hadn’t just betrayed a confidence, she’d potentially affected her grandfather’s career. Although she couldn’t undo the telling of the secret, she was trying to behave in a more mature way.

She’d also agreed to therapy. Weekly sessions with a psychologist to help her deal with her anger and her issues. There was the occasional family session thrown in for good measure, which didn’t thrill Riley, but he’d do anything for his daughter.

They walked inside arm in arm. Riley didn’t immediately see the guests of honor, nor did he catch a glimpse of the Jordan sisters or his errant father.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “How about a drink?” he asked Lizzie. “Want a Shirley Temple?”

“Da-a-a-d!” she said, appalled.

He winked and refrained from ruffling her professionally blow-dried hair. “Can’t blame a father for trying to keep his best girl a little girl.”

He leaned against the bar and when the attendant looked his way, Riley said, “Two Cokes, please.” No reason to drink with Lizzie around and every reason to keep his wits about him tonight.

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d make it tonight,” a familiar voice said.

Riley waited for the drinks, handed one to Lizzie and turned slowly to face his real father. “I wasn’t sure myself,” he admitted.

Considering this was the first time the two men had been in the same room together since being publicly outed as father and son, Riley tried not to squirm under the other man’s obvious scrutiny.

“May I say that I’m glad you’re here?” Spencer asked.

“You can say whatever you want.” Riley had been about to add, It’s a free country, when he noticed Lizzie’s wide-eyed stare.

She’d obviously caught the undercurrents between the two men and Riley knew she’d seen the pictures in the newspaper of Riley and Spencer side by side. No question, Lizzie was aware that this man was Riley’s real father.

At that moment, Riley realized he had a choice. He could walk away, as his gut instinct told him to do, or he could stay and talk to Spencer Atkins, as his rapidly beating heart was asking him to do. He c

ould show his daughter that the solution to difficult situations was to run away or he could teach her to stand tall and face her fears.

“Can I order you a drink?” Riley asked the older man. As an olive branch, it wasn’t much, but it was the best Riley could do under the circumstances.

“No, thank you.” Spencer shook his head, but relief flickered in his eyes. He’d probably been expecting something along the lines of a brush-off and cold shoulder, Riley thought.

But then Riley would lose the chance of getting to know his real father, even for a few brief minutes. Now that their connection was known, no more harm could come to Harlan’s career.

He was forced to acknowledge the fact that he had many questions to ask Spencer and little time. Unless he took a step toward opening up to his father. Then perhaps the other man would meet him halfway. Stranger things had happened lately, Riley thought. And he had just the icebreaker with which to begin.

Riley cleared his throat. “Elizabeth, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He wrapped his arm around Lizzie’s waist, pulling her close. “Spencer Atkins, this is your granddaughter, Elizabeth. We call her Lizzie.” Riley smiled, unable to contain his pride in the young woman she was becoming. “Lizzie, this is…” He stammered over his choice of words.

“I’m Spencer Atkins,” the other man said, helping Riley out. “I’m—”

“My grandfather,” Lizzie said. “Well, one of my grandfathers. I already have Grandpa Harlan.”

“I’m hoping you have room for one more.”

“Sure,” Lizzie said, and shrugged, as if all this blended, extended family stuff was commonplace.

In her life, Riley supposed it was.

“Well, good. But a beautiful girl like you can call me whatever you like,” Spencer said, grinning.