Then he plunged deep inside her, whispering mine in her ear and taking her to heights she'd only dreamed of before he'd come barging into her life.

Riley drove to work the next morning, on a high from how well Ian and her stepmom had gotten along. Ian had charmed Melissa and had a long after-dinner drink with her husband, David, while Melissa gushed over the new man in Riley's life. In her mind, Ian was the perfect catch, and she heartily approved. With her husband being a Thunder fan, the two men had had plenty to talk about.

The only downside to the night, in Ian's mind, was that not only had Melissa not heard from Douglas Taylor, she'd offered him no new insight into why he'd suddenly started hara.s.sing Riley.

For Riley, however, this was good news. The best, really. It meant that, in all likelihood, she didn't have to worry about her father going after Melissa, and now that both she and David were aware of the possibility, they could take steps to protect her, just in case.

That Ian had invited Melissa over spoke volumes about his unspoken feelings for her, Riley thought. Although she knew she loved him, she'd remained silent on the subject. She might be changing, but she was old-fashioned at heart, and she wanted, needed him to say it first.

Mine, while possessive and arousing, wasn't the same thing. She needed the words. In her mind, saying them was the ultimate vulnerability. For as much as he'd given her, as much as he was learning to compromise-and laugh-as much as she believed in his feelings for her, him saying those three little words would be the ultimate gift. The final breakdown in that wall they'd each erected to protect their hearts.

Once in her office, she settled in to work, and the morning pa.s.sed quickly.

Her phone rang, and she a.s.sumed it was either Dylan or Ian, ready to go out for lunch, and she answered on the first ring. "Riley Taylor."

"You're not a big shot to me," a familiar voice from her past said.

Her blood ran cold, and she sat up straighter in her seat. "What do you want?" she asked the man she'd hoped to never hear from again.

"To tell you that you don't impress me. You're just playing dress up, little girl. I know you're not worth a d.a.m.n. You never have been. And now that you're with that hotshot, I have leverage."

"I don't know what you mean," she said, gripping the phone so hard her fingers ached.

"I mean, I don't have to worry about your football player and his threats anymore. Even if he manages to find me, I can do plenty of damage to your new boyfriend's reputation before he does."

So Alex was right when he'd worried about those photographs with Ian. Nausea filled her, and she fought the swirling sensation in her stomach.

"Leave him alone. In fact, go back into whatever hole you crawled out of."

"Then do something for me."

She began to shake. "What do you want?"

"Money. Thanks to you, I lost my wife, my house, I have nothing left, and I've just been waiting for the right time to collect."

"I don't have any money," she said, her throat dry.

Her father let out a mean laugh she remembered from her childhood, from the times she'd curl in a ball while he used it on her mother. Before he slapped her around.

"The whole city knows how much money your boyfriend's got. You make sure I get my share, and I won't show up everywhere he goes and make a scene."

"Ian won't care," she whispered, hoping she was right.

"But you do. You never liked to be the center of attention. Never liked it when people looked at you. Because you're trash, and everyone knew it."

"Because I had an alcoholic father who beat the c.r.a.p out of my mother," she shouted at him.

"Don't blame me for your failings. I'll be in touch by the end of the day. Get me money, or I'll call the news and create enough scandal for Ian Dare to drop you like the trash you always were."

Tears leaked from her eyes. "What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?" she asked, but he'd already hung up.

She slammed the phone down, missing the cradle. So she banged it again and again, sobs wracking her body. By the time she pulled herself together, her head pounded, and she was sure she looked like roadkill. She grabbed her compact mirror and fixed herself as best she could, not wanting to alert anyone at work to her personal problems.

Her father wanted money, she thought. The one thing she didn't have. The two men in her life both did, but she discounted going to each, for very different reasons.

Alex was out for two reasons. The first being she'd promised Ian she'd always go to him first, and she meant to keep that promise. The second being that Alex would find her father and beat him within an inch of his life. As appealing as that thought was-and Riley refused to dwell on what kind of person that made her-she couldn't allow him to ruin his career and his life over her. He'd done enough for her over the years, and she wouldn't repay his friendship and love by knowingly destroying him.

Which left Ian. Without a doubt, she knew he'd react the same way as Alex, and she wouldn't put him in that position either. Both men had too much at stake professionally, both were public figures, and both deserved more than to lose everything because her father had tripped their anger.

In her heart, she didn't believe Ian would care if her father did his best to humiliate him in public, but Riley would. She also couldn't subject his family-his mother and sisters especially-to her father's hostility and venom. They didn't deserve the fallout sure to come from Ian being a.s.sociated with Riley.

G.o.d, she hated the man. He was forcing her to lie to Ian, the one thing she didn't want to do. She mentally replayed her conversation with Ian. "You either trust me or you don't. You either instinctively come to me first or there is no us. On that, I can't compromise."

She honed in on the word 'first.' She promised would come to him first, which implied she'd go to him over Alex. She was parsing, she knew. Playing word games to justify not telling him about her father's call and threats. Word games were all she had.

She couldn't go to him about this, not because she didn't trust him, but because she did. She trusted him to take care of things, to either kill her father or agree to pay him off. She couldn't allow the former, and the latter? She shook her head. She might be learning to accept things from him, but this was out of the question. Her father would only keep coming back for more, over and over again. He'd never be out of their lives. She shuddered at that.

Somehow, Riley needed to handle her father herself. No matter how scared she was, and her stomach cramped with pain at the thought, she needed to handle him alone.

She played with the necklace dangling against her chest, finding small comfort as she touched the pendant, and thought about how to proceed.

What to do.

The idea, when it came to her, was simple. It also devastated her. But most important, it would buy her time and protect Ian and his family from her father until she could figure out a more permanent solution.

FOURTEEN.

Ian's stomach grumbled.

He glanced at his computer screen, his gaze on Riley's instant message window that he kept up and available to him at a moment's notice. He thought of the day he'd taken her in his office, and his c.o.c.k hardened immediately. s.e.x or food, he thought wryly.

Ian: Hungry?

She didn't answer immediately, so he gave her some time to return to her desk.

He called the private investigator he'd put on Riley's father and left the man another voice mail. Ian understood it took time to compile information, but dammit, he wanted answers now.

A few minutes later, with no word from Riley, he decided to go find her. He'd had lunch with her all week, and though they hadn't explicitly discussed today, she'd have let him know if she had a meeting.

He walked through the offices, which were mostly empty, as it was lunchtime, and stepped into her private domain. She wasn't around. He figured he'd leave her a note and go grab something in the cafeteria. Maybe she'd come find him and they could share a quickie for dessert. At her desk, he looked around for a piece of paper, his gaze immediately coming to rest on a notepad.

Cash-In p.a.w.n Shop was scrawled in her handwriting.

Ian narrowed his gaze. What the h.e.l.l would she need to hock and why?

Her father.

Ian didn't know what was going on, but he'd bet his life it had something to do with that b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

He pulled out his phone and saw missed calls from earlier that morning. His half brother had called twice. No message.

s.h.i.t.

He hit redial, and Alex answered on the first ring.

"You're a hard man to get a hold of," Alex said.

Ian scowled. He'd have to get his phone checked. "What do you want?"

"I have the report on Riley's father. I thought I'd share."

Ian narrowed his gaze at his half sibling's unexpected overture. "Go ahead."

"Douglas Taylor has been living on the streets for the last two years. He lost his job and then his house to the bank when the market crashed a few years back. He's flat broke and an alcoholic, to boot. Occasionally he sobers up and gets a job washing dishes, but then he has money for booze, so the cycle starts up all over again."

The words flat broke reverberated in Ian's brain. "Riley left the name of a p.a.w.nshop downtown scrawled on her desk."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," Alex said.

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d's been in touch again. He probably wants money," Ian said.

"But she doesn't have anything of value to sell," Alex said.

Ian thought of the necklace he'd bought her, and the pain of betrayal nearly gutted him. "Yeah. She does."

And she'd chosen that route instead of trusting him. He shook his head, unable to believe it.

"What's the address of the p.a.w.nshop? I'll meet you there," Alex said, breaking into Ian's thoughts.

He shared the address on the paper and disconnected the call.

Riley pulled up to the p.a.w.nshop in a really horrible part of town. Luckily, she got a parking spot out front. She shouldn't be here long, which was a relief, considering the neighborhood gave her the creeps. A man with a cup sat on the ground beside the shop with a sign asking for money. And a gang of kids wearing matching colors hung out across the street.

She shivered and quickly walked inside. The shop was dimly lit, the linoleum on the floor filthy and cracked. There were other people in the store, lingering at the counter and haggling with an older woman near the back.

A middle-aged man greeted her. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

She still wore the necklace, unwilling to take it off until the last possible second. She reached for it, as she'd been doing since she'd made the decision to sell it to pay off her father.

The weight of it gave her comfort, making her feel like she had Ian beside her. From it, she drew strength. "I umm..."

"I ain't got all day, lady. You selling that piece or not?"

"I need a minute," she snapped and turned away from the counter.

He mumbled about indecisive women and turned to help another customer.

She ran her hand over the cool diamond, memories of Ian bombarding her. The vulnerability in his face when he'd asked her to accept the gift, the relief when she had. His placing the pendant around her neck and his huskily spoken words, It's perfect. Just like you.

She clasped the beloved piece tighter, knowing she couldn't do it. She couldn't part with something Ian had given her, and she wouldn't cave in to her father. He'd bullied her throughout her childhood, and she was finished.

Done.

It had taken her coming here to see what a foolish mistake she might have made. Ian would know the necklace was missing, and she couldn't lie to him. She'd promised him she would come to him first and always, and that's what she would do.

"Thanks anyway," she called out to the man, walking at a fast pace out the front door. She reached the sidewalk and breathed in the stuffy, humid air, wanting nothing more than to get into her air-conditioned car.

"Riley."

She turned to see her father climb out of the pa.s.senger seat of a beat-up car that sat behind hers.

"Long time no see."

Her skin crawled at the sound of the voice that had haunted her nightmares for years. He didn't look well. His skin was sallow, his body so thin and gaunt his clothes hung on his narrow frame. Dark circles were heavy beneath his eyes, and red splotches stained his cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I've been keeping an eye on you. Imagine my surprise when you left your cushy job and drove here. I guess I can still get you to do what I say." He gestured toward the p.a.w.nshop behind her.

"You're following me?" Revulsion filled her. "But you can't get into the stadium without permission."

"Don't be an idiot. I waited until you pulled out of the lot."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I don't have anything for you right now," she said and started for her car.

He lunged, grabbing her and dragging her into an alley beside the store.

He backed her into the wall, giving her nowhere to go. The overwhelming stench of alcohol and body odor hit her hard.

"Let's start over." He grabbed her arm so hard she knew she'd have bruises. "We agreed you'd get me money."

"We didn't agree on when," she gritted out.

He shook her hard. His fingers bit into her skin, his frail appearance belying his strength. "Where's the cash?"

"There isn't any. Go ask the guy in the shop if you don't believe me."