Hot Item by Carly Phillips

routine gives me comfort.” She spoke the last words softly.
    A quiet admission of weakness, Riley thought.
    Aw, hell. He hadn’t meant to alarm her. He’d forgotten how seriously Sophie took life. Even with the dim lighting in the restroom, he could see her cheeks had turned pink and she’d sucked her lower lip into her mouth, embarrassed at admitting her neuroses aloud.
    “Hey,” he said, softly. “I said I’d be here.”
    “And I was supposed to take your word for it? The minutes ticked by and boarding had begun—”
    “Were the cabin doors closed?”
    She shook her head.
    “Well then, there was still plenty of time for me to arrive.”
    “I don’t work that way. I don’t think that way. I plan ahead. And right now I need to find Spencer before my whole place of business falls apart. I have Cambias sniffing around and no sign of Spencer. He said he’d be in by nine on Monday and he wasn’t. You said you’d meet me at the gate,” she said, the implication clear.
    He’d let her down. The thought didn’t sit well with him. Not a normal reaction for a man who did his own thing on his own schedule and answered to no one.
    Most people accepted his behavior.
    Sophie wasn’t most people.
    She folded her arms across her chest, as if that would provide a barrier between him and her emotions. Between them.
    As if.
    He placed a hand beneath her chin and turned her face toward him. Her skin was softer than anything he’d touched before and his gut churned with the sudden desire to kiss her lips and see if that pink pout felt as seductive as it looked. If her mouth tasted like the sweet heaven he imagined.
    He shook his head to redirect his thoughts. He and Sophie had a mutual goal. To find his father and smooth over the mess created by the media. Not to create another one at thirty thousand feet.
    To that end, they needed each other. “Look, I’m just not used to answering to anyone except Lizzie.”
    Sophie blinked, probably as startled by his semi-apology as he was.
    “That’s what you call your daughter, Elizabeth?” she said.
    He nodded, the old familiar pride welling inside him. Lizzie was Riley’s whole world and he’d do right by her in ways his biological parent had never done by him. He’d be there for her and she’d know her daddy loved her.
    “Lizzie’s thirteen going on eighteen. She has attitude up the wazoo and some discipline problems at school, but she’s smart and special and gorgeous. And I’m going to have to buy a shotgun to keep the hormonal idiots away,” he said, awed as always by the young lady his daughter was becoming.
    Sophie laughed, a light, airy, more relaxed sound than he’d heard from her since boarding.
    “I take it you have some firsthand experience with being one of those hormonal idiots?” she asked.
    “You know what they say. Boys’ll be boys.”
    She inclined her head. “So what do you suggest we do to make this arrangement work?” she asked, turning the conversation back to them.
    He leaned against the counter, thinking about what would help them get along for the duration of the trip. “How about we begin by understanding each other a little more? I’ll start. Atkins is my long-lost father and though I have my reasons for needing to talk to him, I doubt he’ll be happy to see me.” Riley offered the difficult admission as a peace offering.
    A flash of understanding flickered in her eyes along with the steely resolve he’d seen before. “I respect your privacy, but you hired me to help you. Besides, before I can bring you to Spencer, I’m going to need to know those reasons. We’re like—”
    “Family. I know.” When used along with Spencer Atkins, the word family tasted sour in his mouth.
    He paused, wondering how much more detail to reveal now and decided the lavatory wasn’t the place for long-winded explanations. “I’ll fill you in. Just not here.”
    She nodded. “Fair enough. I suppose you’re looking for an admission of my own? A