By the time they finished for the day, Riley owned a dress so high-end she didn't recognize the name of the designer, shoes so expensive the bill could pay her rent for two months, and a Judith Lieber purse in the shape of peac.o.c.k, glittering with brightly colored jewels.

Before they parted for the evening, Olivia informed her she'd be picking her up first thing in the morning for part two of their excursion.

"Part two?"

The other woman grinned, her eyes glittering with excitement. "It's a surprise," she insisted in that tone that told Riley no amount of prodding would get her to reveal what she planned.

After shopping, Riley arrived home, arms loaded with packages. Her dress would be delivered by four p.m. tomorrow. Her phone was ringing as she fumbled for her keys. She found them, unlocked her door, and ran inside, dropping the bags onto the couch.

She grabbed for the receiver. "h.e.l.lo?" she asked, out of breath.

Click.

Whoever it was hung up on her. "Dammit!"

Her mouth ran dry. Before she could think about it, the phone rang again.

Riley answered it, yelling into the receiver. "I swear to G.o.d, if you don't stop calling me, I'll-"

"Riley? What's wrong?"

"Alex?" Relieved, she lowered herself next to her purchases.

"Yeah. Talk to me."

She sighed. "Nothing. I just came home from shopping, and the phone was ringing, my hands were full...everything's fine."

"That's why you were threatening me before you even knew who was on the other end of the line?"

She swallowed hard. "I heard from my father," she said, knowing better than to lie to him.

Alex swore loudly. "What did he say?"

"He left a message with my secretary when I was out of town. The note just said, 'you owe me.'" She repeated the words written on the pink paper.

"I'll kill him."

"It's not worth it. You were a kid last time you dealt with him. You have a career to worry about now. Just stay away from him. Promise me. I'm sure he's all talk," Riley said, praying she was right.

It didn't make any sense. He'd been out of her life for years. Why surface now?

"Not making any promises. I'm still in Tampa, but I'll be back tomorrow. I'll see what I can dig up on your old man. See what he's been up to."

"Thanks, Alex." She opted not to argue with him.

Still shaken up, she knew better than to call Ian. He'd know immediately that something was wrong, so instead, she texted him her thanks for the dress and the rest of her new things.

He wrote back immediately. Seeing you in them will be thanks enough.

She smiled and managed to go to bed happy, but her dreams kept her tossing and turning and on edge. Her childhood wasn't a happy one, and she couldn't think of one good reason for her father to surface, or what he could imagine she owed him.

ELEVEN.

The next morning, no sooner had Olivia picked up Riley than she informed her they were spending the day being pampered. She should have said pampered, ma.s.saged and hot-stoned, plucked, waxed, blow-dried, and made-up. Her nails and toes were soaked and perfectly painted, a far more perfect job than she did herself. Olivia, it seemed, treated herself to this often. For Riley, it was a brand-new experience, and she surprised herself by enjoying every minute.

Before she knew it, she was dressed and ready and allowing Ian's driver to help her into the limousine. Ian waited in the back seat, looking extremely handsome in his black tuxedo. Clothes didn't make this man; he was too imposing not to be noticed, no matter what he wore. But with his hair perfectly styled, his silver-gray eyes focused on her, he was every inch the man she couldn't get out of her mind...or, she feared, her heart.

"You take my breath away," he said, his eyes darkening with his words.

Never before had she been the focus of such intense scrutiny.

"Thank you," she murmured. "You look pretty hot yourself."

"I'm not the one they won't be able to take their eyes off of."

She ducked her head and felt herself blush.

He lifted her chin with one hand. "I'll be the luckiest man there tonight. I want you to know that."

He trailed a finger down her neck and across her collarbone, his touch intimate and seductive. Her nipples beaded, and she trembled.

"I think that dress needs a little something more." With his free hand, he reached behind him and held out a long box.

"Ian, no." She'd already compromised her usual beliefs by letting him buy her this dress and the shoes, not to mention the complete spa day.

His eyes lost some of their earlier sparkle. "Let me give you this, please. It makes me happy. I want you to have something that...when you wear it, you think of me."

She swallowed hard. "I always think of you."

"Then let me in." He leaned in and pressed his lips against that sweet spot behind her ear, and she let out a soft moan. "Let me do things for you." He took her hand and placed it on the box. "Please."

She could see and feel how much this meant to him. It was a gift, and she'd hurt him if she didn't accept it. "Okay."

His expression transformed, his pleased smile making her happy she'd given in.

He snapped open the box, revealing a delicate, teardrop-shaped, diamond necklace set in white gold.

She sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by the piece. It wasn't ostentatious or over-the-top. It didn't make a statement or scream money, though she had no doubt the item had cost him a lot. Instead, it was simple, elegant, and every inch something she'd not only pick out herself but wear. And not just tonight at the fundraising gala, but every day.

He'd chosen the perfect gift, picked with her taste and feelings in mind.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"You'll wear it?" he asked.

The vulnerability in the question touched her. "I'd be honored." She lifted her hair away from her neck and turned.

He placed the necklace on and hooked it in place.

She swiveled back to face him.

He smoothed her hair over her shoulders, surrounding the delicate piece of jewelry. "It's perfect. Just like you."

She opened her mouth to argue. She wasn't perfect, and she had the past to prove it. Her father's reemergence had never been far from her mind, and she'd wanted to hide it from Ian for as long as possible. But he obviously cared about her, and he was showing her in so many ways, which meant it was time to trust him with her secrets.

"Ian, I need to talk to you."

"Later." He pressed his mouth to hers, gliding his tongue over her lips, encouraging her to open for him.

His masculine taste flooded her senses. Her eyelashes fluttered closed, and she parted her lips, taking him in. He devoured her, kissing her as if she were the only thing that mattered. He gripped the back of her neck with one hand while he swirled his tongue in her mouth, round and round, over and over.

She returned the kiss, the fervor behind it, and the need they both shared, until the car came to a halt and a knock sounded at the side window.

Ian groaned and pulled back, his hand never leaving her nape, his forehead touching hers. His breathing ragged, he dragged in gulps of air while she did the same.

She reached for her small purse and took out the tiny mirror she'd fit in, somehow managing to wipe away the lipstick smudges and reapply. Her lips still looked puffy, her mouth well kissed, but there was nothing she could do about that.

She eyed Ian, dabbing at her lipstick marks on his lips and face until she'd cleaned him up too.

"We'll pick this up where we left off," he said, the promise in his voice as seductive as his kisses.

"I'll hold you to that." She managed a grin, ignoring the pulsing in her body and the niggling guilt that she was holding back about her father.

Why that had suddenly begun to matter, she didn't know. Her fingertips went to the delicate teardrop at her throat. Something about this gift had broken down the last wall she'd erected to keep Ian out. Suddenly, she wanted to let him in.

"Ready?" he asked, his hand on the door lever.

She nodded.

He grasped her hand, and they stepped out of the car.

She supposed she should have expected the photographers, given that the Thunder players were attending as well, but the flashes of light caught her off guard.

Sensing her distress, Ian tightened his hold and pulled her against him, wrapping a protective arm around her waist as he led her inside.

Hours into the event, Ian couldn't wait to get Riley home, peel the dress off her body, and explore her inch by inch, first with his hands, then with his mouth. She was easily the s.e.xiest woman here, not to mention the cla.s.siest. Her one-shoulder dress, black with silver trim, slit up one side, revealed an elegant expanse of tanned leg and an incredibly hot, ridiculously high-heeled shoe. His mouth watered, and his c.o.c.k hardened and approved.

Knowing he had to remain at least through the speech portion of the evening, he'd settle for having a few minutes with her alone. His family had been monopolizing her time ever since they'd arrived. Since they were in public, he'd suffered through each of his brothers dancing with and probably grilling her, but she'd laughed and smiled and obviously enjoyed.

He bit back his jealousy over other men touching her; they were his brothers, after all. He'd settle for killing them over a Sunday basketball game with well-placed elbow jabs and points scored. He wasn't any more pleased with Olivia, her plunging neckline, and clear attempts to make Dylan Rhodes jealous by dancing with other men while eying him to make sure he was watching. At least Avery seemed to be behaving herself...so far.

Even his mother seemed to be enjoying herself, dancing with one man in particular all evening. That was something he intended to question more thoroughly. In fact, he made it a point to interrupt both of his sisters and at least find out what they were up to.

With Riley occupied by Tyler, Ian headed onto the dance floor, where his mother and a silver-haired gentleman were dancing and had been for quite some time.

"Mind if I cut in?" Ian asked.

"Michael, this is my son, Ian. Ian, this is Michael Brooks. His insurance company is a big donor for tonight's auction."

Ian nodded.

The other man extended his hand, and Ian took it. "I've been hearing about you all evening. Your mother is your biggest fan. And I'm impressed with all you've done for the team during your tenure."

"Thank you." Ian hoped the other man wasn't trying to impress him for his mother's sake. He hated suck-ups.

"Unfortunately, I'm a Breakers fan," Michael said with humor and honesty.

"That's a d.a.m.n shame." So much for his concerns, Ian thought, admiring the man's truthfulness even if his taste in football teams sucked. "And my mother's dancing with you anyway? I'm surprised."

"I've won her over with my charm," Michael said. "She's a lovely lady. Well worth the effort."

"I agree."

"I'll let you have some time together. I'll wait for you at the bar, Emma."

His mother smiled. "I'll see you soon."

"Nice to meet you, Ian." Michael tipped his head and walked away.

His mother followed the other man with her gaze.

"Have you met him before tonight?" Ian asked her.

"We're both on the Juvenile Diabetes Board that planned tonight's event," she said.

Ian pulled her into his arms, and they swayed in time to the slow music. "I'll look into him," he told her.

"You will not. I'm a big girl and-"

"What the h.e.l.l are they doing here?" Ian asked, interrupting her as he caught sight of his father and Alex walking into the ballroom. Savannah was beside them.

"Who?" His mother glanced toward the entrance.

"My father, his wife, and Alex," Ian said, any peace he'd been feeling this evening evaporating at the sight of them.

Ian had stopped dancing, but his mother pulled him back into their earlier positions. "Don't let them rattle you or interrupt your evening," she said firmly.

He acquiesced to her demands and forced himself to both relax and continue their dance. "I don't understand how you do it."