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Annabelle’s eyes opened wide. “He’s what?”

Sophie shook her head. “There’s no other word for it. He sends her flowers, shows up to take her to lunch, that kind of thing.”

“Do you think he’s really interested in her?”

“I hope so, because she’s falling hard and fast. He’d better not want access to anything business related,” Sophie muttered.

Without warning, Frannie came storming through the door. “You have to see this. Come to the conference room quick.”

Sophie shot Annabelle a worried glance and together they followed Frannie out the door, down the long hall and into the conference room, where they had a fifty-inch LCD screen. To her surprise, there was a clip of Tom Arnold, special correspondent for Fox’s irreverent Best Damn Sports Show Period, talking to Uncle Yank at an airport.

“Where is that?” Annabelle asked.

“Kennedy,” Frannie said.

“I didn’t know he was coming back early from his cruise.” Sophie eased herself into an oversize chair, knowing that whatever happened next, she wouldn’t like it.

“Nobody knew.” Frannie clicked a few buttons and soon they were watching the beginning of the interview.

“Good flight, big guy?” Tom Arnold asked.

“The best,” Uncle Yank said in a voice as loud as his Hawaiian shirt and baggy Bermuda shorts.

“So what’s so important that we came out here to meet you instead of waiting until you could come on the show? Because I know Chris and John were looking forward to talking to you next week.”

“They were?” Sophie and Annabelle asked in unison.

Yank chuckled and slung an arm over Tom Arnold’s shoulder as if they were old buddies. Which they were, but that wasn’t the point. Uncle Yank had a gleam in his eye and Sophie leaned forward in her chair.

“A man can’t wait to brag about his honeymoon, Tom.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a few of those myself.” Tom grinned.

Sophie figured Lola was standing in the background, waiting to throttle her husband.

“So you return to pure chaos at home.”

“Nothing we can’t handle. The draft is all ours next week.”

As far as Sophie knew, nobody had been in contact with Uncle Yank, but obviously she was wrong. “Who’s spoken to him?”

“It must have been Spencer,” Frannie whispered. “Unfortunately, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Your firm’s signed Cashman? Because Miguel Cambias has also mentioned some serious talks with the first-round draft pick.”

“Anybody with half a brain knows there’s no contest between Cambias and Athletes Only. It’s like choosing between a prostate exam and a blow job. What’s an intelligent man gonna pick?”

“Oh God,” Annabelle muttered, covering her face with her hands.

“Why doesn’t he just wave a red flag in Cambias’s face?” Sophie asked.

Once he stopped laughing, Tom leaned in closer to Yank. “Now I have to ask the question everyone’s wondering about. You lose any clients after Spencer got pushed out of the closet?”

“Spencer Atkins is the best damn sports agent, period. Besides me, of course. No fool’s going to leave A.O. because the man prefers receiving to passing.”

“Fair enough. Are you ready to return to work?”

“Damn straight. Get it? Straight.” He belted Tom on the back. “With the draft in a few weeks, I’ve got a boatload of work ahead of me. Not to mention my personal mission.”

“Could that personal mission have something to do with your gorgeous nieces?” Tom asked, as if he’d planned to make this transition.

Goose bumps like warning signals prickled along Sophie’s skin.

“It just so happens it does. You know I’m just coming home from my honeymoon. I waited too long to get hitched, but now that I have, I’m a spokesperson for commitment.”

“Oh, brother.” Annabelle, who’d taken a chair beside Sophie, reached over and grabbed her sister’s hand.

“Two of my nieces, Annabelle and Micki, have also gotten themselves shackled.”

“And that leaves Sophie,” Tom said, nodding slowly as if just catching on.

Sophie’s stomach cramped and she closed her eyes for a brief moment. Of all the harebrained, half-cocked, stupid ideas…

Yank abruptly turned and began waving his arms. “Hey, honey, come on over here and hand me my bag.”

The camera panned to Lola, who looked fit to be tied, as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her husband. “I will not be a party to this spectacle, Yank Morgan. And it’s not too late for you to leave now before more damage is done.”

“Poor Lola,” Sophie said.

Annabelle turned to her, her expression incredulous. “Poor Lola? Poor you!”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’ll survive. I can’t do anything now anyway. What’s done is done. Besides, the man raised all three of us. We’re used to his humiliating comments.”

And it was inadvertent. Everything Uncle Yank did, he did out of love. Unfortunately, he didn’t think before he spoke, which often landed him in the doghouse with those he cared about most.

They turned back to the screen. The camera had panned away from Lola while Yank pawed through his duffel bag, then to Sophie’s complete mortification, he pulled out a photo. Of her.

“She’s sexy, smart and single,” Uncle Yank was saying.

“He’s making me sound desperate!” Sophie’s cheeks burned with humiliation. “And I’m going to kill him.”

“I thought you said, what’s done is done,” Annabelle reminding her, trying to suppress a laugh.

“He’s done. And if he’s smart, he won’t show his face around here anytime soon.” Sophie rose and headed for the door, passing a silently sympathetic Frannie as she departed in search of a brown paper bag to put over her head.

In fact, maybe she’d wear it for the rest of her life.

AFTER HER HUMILIATION on TV, Sophie had taken a mental step back and decided to cool down before confronting her uncle. The difficult thing about getting angry at Uncle Yank was that he always had good intentions. His way of going about things was much more questionable.

She’d decided to stop at the gym for the early-evening yoga class in order to relieve stress, before heading to his apartment for a long talk. Now as she stepped off the elevator onto Yank’s floor she heard Noodle’s high-pitched bark. Apparently her uncle and Lola had already picked up the pooch from Cindy, who’d taken over doggie duty.

She rang the doorbell and immediately smacked her hands over her ears in time to block out the worst of his extraloud chimes. Uncle Yank had installed them before he’d married Lola. He hadn’t wanted to miss a visitor. After almost going deaf the first time she’d visited and heard the noise, Sophie had learned her lesson and protected her hearing.

She turned and shot a covert glance at the door across the hall, expecting his neighbor to stick her head out and complain about the racket as she always did.

“She’s off visiting her daughter,” Uncle Yank said from behind her, tapping her on the shoulder at the same time.

Sophie swirled around. She hadn’t heard him open his apartment door. “You drove her away, huh?”

He shook his head. “Don’t go giving your uncle a hard time. Give me a big hug instead.”

Despite her anger and frustration with him, Sophie loved the man and wrapped her arms around him tight. “I missed you, you old coot.” She stepped back. “But I’m still going to kill you,” she told him.

“Hey, it’s my job to see you’re taken care of.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you think prostituting me to every man with a TV set is taking care of me?”

“If you’d just settle down like your sisters, I wouldn’t have to worry about what’ll happen to you when I’m gone.”

Sophie grabbed her uncle’s weathered hand, a knifelike pain settling in her heart. “Nothing’s going to happen to