“Well, come in,” she ordered, obviously agitated.

Carefully, afraid she might jump up and run down the hall screaming rape, he walked across the orange carpet and eased himself onto the foot of the bed.

“Jason sent you?” she asked, reaching onto the nightstand for a crumpled pack of cigarettes propped against a half-finished drink. She shook out an unfiltered Pall Mall and her hands only trembled a little as she struck a match and lit up. “Why?”

“He, um, he had to stick around. Dad wanted him there.”

She arched a fine black brow as she drew on her cigarette again and finally lifted it from her lips. “But he didn’t want you?” she asked skeptically.

“Jason’s the oldest,” Zach said, as if it explained everything, which it did. Jason had been groomed from the day he was born to be heir to the Danvers fortune. Nothing had changed just because Witt had sired a second son.

The hooker smiled. “So he’s the favorite.”

“London’s the old man’s favorite.”

“Ahh. Jason’s talked about her. The little kid. What is she, about three?’

“Almost five.” Zach didn’t see that London’s age mattered at all, especially considering the situation. He was in a hotel room with a prostitute and they were discussing his baby sister! Well, hadn’t Jason said she liked to talk? Somehow he’d expected the conversation to be a little more sensual.

Sophia set her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedstand, then picked up her drink. Swirling the melting ice cubes with one long finger, she stared at Zach, letting her eyes rove up his half-buttoned shirt to his windblown hair.

“Jason wants you to take his place?”

“That seemed to be the plan.”

She took a swallow from her glass and the tip of her tongue rimmed her wet lips. “Are you a virgin, Zachary?”

The question hit him like a slap in the face. “Of course not.”

“Mmm. Then you’ve had…a lot of women?” She sipped her drink, trying to smother a smile.