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thanks to his joint-custody arrangement with his ex-wife.
    His thirteen-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, came first on his list of priorities. Yet another way he was nothing like the man who hadn’t raised him.
    He followed Julia back into the bedroom.
    She strode over to the bed, unaffectedly naked and began picking up her clothes. “Did I tell you Jacques asked me to marry him?” She casually tossed the news his way.
    He raised an eyebrow, not surprised the words didn’t elicit a reaction one way or another. He enjoyed Julia but he wasn’t in love with her.
    “Then how come I don’t see a ring?” he asked lightly.
    She shrugged. “I told him I’d think about it.” She pulled her shirt over her head, the spandex molding to her near perfect curves. “I’m getting tired of the traveling, the hotel rooms. It’s lonely. I could give up my career and not look back,” she admitted.
    Riley nodded. “I hear you. There comes a time everyone has to make choices.” He paused and met her gaze. “I take it this is…goodbye, then?”
    She nodded. “I couldn’t say yes without telling you. And besides I thought we deserved one last time together.” She treated him to a smile.
    An easy parting, he thought thankfully. He’d been blessed that way. Even his short marriage to Lisa had ended amicably and they’d never argued over custody or money, mainly because as the mother of his child, he’d denied her nothing and even increased her monthly payments as his career had soared. Just a case of marrying too young and expecting too little.
    Similar to his own parents, or so he’d always thought. Once again he caught himself wondering about Spencer Atkins. Had Spencer’s marriage been a ruse? An attempt to live a so-called normal life? Had Riley been conceived out of love as he’d been told by his mother or as the unfortunate result of a lie on the part of his father?
    So many questions. He wished he didn’t give a damn, but Riley could no longer deny his curiosity. And if he wanted to know more, so would the reporters who’d gotten wind of this story. They’d dig and dig deep. They’d find the marriage certificate that bore the names of Spencer Atkins and his mother and they’d discover that she’d had a child.
    In no time the scandal would reach his stepfather, who was running for the United States Senate as a representative of the great state of Mississippi. A lifetime’s worth of hard work and dedication, and aspirations of living in the White House would go down the drain. Riley wouldn’t let that happen.
    Of course he’d be a liar if he didn’t admit some self-interest in the matter, too. If the press found out the relationship between Riley and Atkins, Riley’s life in the locker room would be a living hell. The guys would question his masculinity and not even his marriage and kid would save him. Like father, like son the guys would say. Riley could hold his own with his teammates and he knew the scandal would blow over with time, but his teenage daughter didn’t need the hassle from the fallout.
    Riley shook his head at the irony. A lifetime of wishing the man would acknowledge him and now it was the last thing he wanted.
    His best option was to reach Spencer before the media did and convince him not to talk. Which shouldn’t be a stretch for a man who’d made silence an art form. Frustration filled Riley over the need to turn to Spencer Atkins for anything, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t his own needs driving him. He’d be making the effort for his parents and his daughter.
    The time had come for father and son to meet face-to-face at last.
     
    T HREE DAYS HAD PASSED and Spencer was officially MIA. Sophie paced her office, wearing a path in the plush carpeting, which she’d discovered was twenty-five steps from the window overlooking the East River to the bathroom in the far corner. Back and forth, back and forth, but no matter how far she walked, the reality never changed. The football