Hot Item (Hot Zone 3)

“That’s what I want to know,” Yank said. “Are you askin’ for—”

“Your niece’s hand in marriage.”

“You want to marry me?” Sophie asked, stunned. It was one thing to talk in generalities, another to know he wanted the entire commitment.

“You want to marry her?” Lizzie parroted, sounding equally surprised.

“What the hell is wrong with everyone?” Riley asked. “I love her. Of course I want to marry her,” he shouted, silencing the entire room.

“Yes!” Lizzie said, recovering first.

“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that,” Yank said gruffly, beaming with happiness and obvious approval.

Without warning, the crowd reacted next. Her sisters, and then Uncle Yank and Lola, who now stood beside him, broke into a round of applause.

“You aren’t upset?” Sophie asked Lizzie quietly when the clapping had died down.

She noticed that Riley leaned in closer, waiting for his daughter’s answer.

“Hell, no. Now Dad’ll be in a good mood all the time and he’ll start saying yes to things again,” Lizzie said, grinning.

“Miss Mouth,” Riley said, warning her.

But even Sophie noticed the twitch in his lips. His happiness shone through his disapproval and warmed Sophie straight through to her toes. “You’re quite the little schemer,” Sophie said, laughing.

“What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”

“She inherited it from me,” Riley said. “And now I’d like a word alone with my future bride.” Instead of telling everyone else to scram as Sophie expected him to do, he turned to Yank. “As your first official duty, you can keep an eye on your soon-to-be…whatever you want to call her,” he said, laughing.

Lizzie narrowed her gaze in a way that said, I’m gonna get you for that. But her eyes were dancing with happiness. Apparently she wasn’t kidding; Lizzie did approve of Riley and Sophie at last.

Riley grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her through the ballroom, out the large doors and into the unoccupied coatroom closet, slamming the door behind them. A dim light glowed from overhead.

Riley bracketed his hands against the wall over her head. “I cannot believe I finally have you alone,” he said, his eyes glittering with desire.

She was way ahead of him. Every pore in her body craved his touch.

“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

She shook her head. “No, but something tells me you’re going to.”

A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips as he settled his mouth on hers. It was a long, sensual while before he lifted his head and met her gaze. “You look spectacular,” he said in a husky voice.

“Tell me again,” she said.

“You’re brave, beautiful and mine.” Then he dipped his head and he told her in other ways. Over and over and over again.

EPILOGUE

SENATOR HARLAN NASH and his wife had insisted on having Sophie and Riley’s wedding at their Mississippi estate, and Sophie, God love her, Yank thought, had agreed.

What the hell would have been wrong with the Plaza or another of the old New York City hotels? Yank wondered. He was paying for the shindig anyway. At least he thought he was. Between all the arguing going on, he could never be sure.

Annabelle and Micki had made gorgeous matrons of honor while Lizzie had been the only bridesmaid, and the cute kid had reveled in the attention. As she’d walked down the aisle, she’d waved to everyone like the Queen of England. With her spunk and attitude, she actually reminded him a little of Micki as a kid, he thought, grinning.

Then Yank had walked Sophie down the aisle—without his cane, he thought proudly. He didn’t need a walking stick when he had a dog as smart as Noodle. Never mind that she’d sniffed something and taken off for the other side of the bushes, wedding rings hooked into her collar. A waitress had retrieved them, crawling out of the greenery with leaves poking from her head in time for the I do’s.

The best part of the day had come when Spencer had walked his son halfway down the aisle. The senator had taken over midway. It seemed like a fair compromise to all involved. Everybody had ignored the protestors out back. Harlan had announced his intention to let the voters have their say come November and if retirement was in his future, he had plenty of other pursuits, he’d said. Yank hadn’t a clue what those were, but the man seemed resigned to Spencer’s orientation and place in Riley’s life. Nothing else mattered as far as Yank was concerned.