Hot Property

by Carly Phillips

  Amy walked over and put her hand on Roper’s shoulder for support. He surprised her by covering it with his own.

  “Weddings are stressful,” Amy said. “Perhaps there’s a way you all can sit down and talk and really hear one another,” she suggested.

  Cassandra swirled around. “I never did find out what exactly you are to my son. You mentioned working for the Hot Zone, his public relations firm?”

  “Officially Amy’s my go-to person at the Hot Zone.” Roper jumped in and spoke for her, something Amy didn’t want or need him to do.

  “You see, Cassandra, the Hot Zone felt that given Roper’s current situation, he could use someone to help keep him on track with his physical therapy before the start of the season,” Amy said, eager to speak for herself.

  “Sort of like a handler,” Cassandra said.

  Amy nodded. “Exactly.”

  His mother studied Amy for a long while, enough to make her uncomfortable. But she held her ground and refused to fidget even though Cassandra didn’t hide her blatant attempt to take stock. “So you’re here with him today because he needs help handling his family?” Hurt suffused Cassandra’s tone.

  Amy’s heart constricted. She didn’t want wounded feelings. “I’m just here for support,” she said, deliberately backing off.

  She saw Roper’s dilemma so clearly now. His aging mother was unsure of her place in Hollywood and in her children’s lives. It wasn’t Amy’s place to butt in. She could guide Roper, but she couldn’t tell his family what to do. She realized that now.

  Amy turned to Roper. “Don’t you have an appointment with the doctor and then with the physical therapist today?”

  He glanced at his watch. Surprise at how fast the morning had gone registered on his face. “I do, but my family needs me right now. I’ll call Aaron and reschedule.”

  She might as well start handling him now. “No, you won’t. Your shoulder might heal on its own, but you won’t get your strength back without hard work.”

  “Amy’s right, John,” his mother said, shocking Amy.

  If the stunned look on Roper’s face was any indication, he agreed.

  “I’m tired. I’ve upset your sister and obviously overstayed my welcome. I’m going to go back to the hotel. First I’ll go talk to Sabrina and make peace. We can pick up the wedding talk another time. I still say they’ll regret a small wedding later.” With a wave, his mother headed in the direction Sabrina had gone, leaving Roper and Amy alone.

  Roper leaned against the wall and let out a low groan. “She gave in,” he said, relieved.

  “For now. And only because I backed off first,” Amy said.

  “You are amazing.” She’d been astute enough to realize that his mother might perceive her as a threat. Roper shot her a look filled with admiration and gratitude.

  She shrugged. “Years of experience at the retirement community, I guess. I just sensed she needed to feel in control of things.”

  “Well, it worked.” Roper knew another reason why Amy had been able to get his mother to step aside for today, at least—because his mother was astute enough to sense there was more to Roper’s relationship with Amy than business. She’d said as much on the phone after meeting Amy at the apartment the other day. Cassandra thought her son had a thing for Amy, which worked to Amy’s benefit because his mother played nice to Roper’s girlfriends.

  She had spelled out her reasons to him the one and only time he’d brought a girlfriend with him to L.A. The woman hadn’t had nearly Amy’s intelligence and she’d grated on his mother’s nerves, but Cassandra had been the gracious hostess, giving in to all the other woman’s requests—to go shopping on Rodeo Drive, to tour Paramount Studios—all because, as she’d told Roper later, she knew he’d grow tired of her quickly.

  And he had. He always did. The women he met and dated up until now didn’t have enough substance to make him want them in his life long term.

  “Time for the doctor,” Amy said.

  He rolled his eyes at her bossy tone. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t in charge. That he could make his own decisions. That he was the man.

  Until he realized that if she hadn’t been here, he would have canceled his appointment. She’d done her job, keeping him on schedule. Damn, but he liked her take-charge personality.

  “Amy, do you want to join us for a late lunch this afternoon?” Sabrina called out as she and his mother walked back into the room.

  Amy paused, then said, “Love to.” She shot him a satisfied grin.

  Knowing Amy, she figured keeping his mother and sister busy would enable him to work uninterrupted.

  She was right.

  But he’d have the last laugh. Because while he was going to his appointments, she’d be getting grilled by his inquisitive family.

  He ought to tell her, then decided against it. Amy could handle herself.

  “Can we talk before you take off?” Amy asked.

  He nodded and she walked him to the door.

  “Ready to rethink the lodge?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “So far you’ve got things well under control. When you don’t, we’ll talk.” He threw down the gauntlet, knowing she’d work doubly hard to prove she could corral his family.

  No escape necessary, or so he hoped.

  “Promise?”

  He nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “I promise.” He couldn’t hold back his grin.

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” she said, pointing at him for emphasis.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.” He grabbed her finger long enough to stop her and glanced at her satisfied smile.

  He could think of just one way to wipe the smug grin off her face. He leaned forward, brushing a long, lingering kiss over her lips before turning around and walking out. Leaving them both wanting more.

  ROPER WALKED OUT OF THE office of the team’s orthopedist, the best in the city, and barely felt the cold winter air. He’d gone from a euphoric high, leaving Amy with a stunned expression after that kiss, to this. He’d just gotten the results of an MRI he’d had taken last week and the news wasn’t good. Despite his workouts and physical therapy, his strength wasn’t returning as quickly as he’d hoped. The MRI didn’t show anything that would impede his progress, but the doctor also said that sometimes healing didn’t occur at the pace a patient wanted. He’d have to listen to his body or risk further damage.

  The doctor was warning him. Spring training might start late for him.

  Or not at all.

  Roper had seen many players who never bounced back after surgery, and in his case, he wasn’t coming off a stellar season to start with.

  Mentally he’d needed good news today. Promising news. He hadn’t gotten it.

  “A delay ought to go over well with the already-pissed-off fans,” he muttered, kicking uselessly at an empty coffee cup littering the sidewalk. On the city streets, nobody spared him a second glance.

  Someone talking to himself wasn’t unusual here. He was just lucky there were no reporters around to let the world know he was losing it.

  At least, since he’d seen the team doctor, he didn’t have to call his coach. The doc would do it for him, which took one load off his shoulders. Roper had a couple of hours before his physical-therapy appointment, so he headed home to unwind.

  As he passed the front desk with a wave to Stan, the doorman, called him back.

  “What’s up?” Roper asked Stan, who’d been on the day shift ever since Roper had bought the place two years ago.

  “Another delivery for you.” He held out a box with a familiar scrawl.

  “The guy doesn’t give up,” Stan said, lifting his cap and scratching the top of his head.

  Roper began to shrug, and the immediate soreness reminded him of his already shitty day. “He’s a Renegades fanatic who doesn’t think I’m earning my keep. At the moment he’s got a valid point.”

  Stan frowned. “Maybe if he showed you some
support, you’d get your groove back faster.”

  Roper appreciated the man’s backing. “Thanks. Not much I can do but ignore it.” Still, the thought of how much he’d disappointed the fans, his teammates and himself gnawed at his gut.

  “I still don’t like that he knows where you live.”

  Roper forced a laugh. He didn’t like it much himself, but again, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. “Half of New York City knows where I live. It’s not a national secret. But I appreciate your concern.”

  “Yeah, well, it just doesn’t sit right. I mean, the guy doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. He just sends you things that don’t fit in the mailboxes and have to come through me. You need to get these things screened.”

  He waved at an older woman passing by. “Afternoon, Mrs. Davis,” he said.

  “Hello, Stanley.” She smiled warmly and kept walking.

  “Anyway, I don’t like it,” he said, turning his attention back to Roper.

  “It’s his way of getting my attention.” As if Roper could or would ignore the upset-fan letters still trickling into the stadium addressed to him.

  “Why don’t you open it down here? That way I can get rid of it for you afterward,” Stan offered.

  Roper recognized his curiosity but also his point. Who wanted more reminders of his shitty season hanging around his apartment? “Why not?”

  Stan pulled a box cutter from beneath the desk. “Do you want the honors?”

  Roper shook his head. “You can have them.”

  Stan neatly slit the box and opened the flaps, then Roper took over. He reached inside and pulled out a Ziploc bag, sealed shut.

  For good reason. The contents defied description.

  Roper looked, blinked and stared again. “Holy—”

  “What the hell?” Stan asked, narrowing his gaze and staring at the bag in disbelief. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Roper held the bag with two fingers, keeping it far away from him. “It sure is, Stan. It’s a bag of shit.” Probably dog shit.

  And written on the bag in permanent marker were the words You Stink.

  Roper’s stomach roiled in a combination of nausea and humiliation.

  “The nerve of some people. You get on upstairs and take it easy. I’ll get rid of this.” Stan pulled the bag from Roper’s hand, stuffed it in the box and stormed away, heading for the back of the lobby where the trash was located.

  Appreciating Stan’s discretion, Roper nodded. Shaken, he headed farther into the building and took the elevator upstairs. He’d just reached the kitchen and lowered himself into the nearest chair when his cell phone rang.

  He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced down and groaned, answering it despite knowing better. “Hi, Mom,” he said, hearing the exhaustion in his voice.

  “Hello, darling. What’s wrong? You sound down. What happened at the doctor’s?”

  “Just some frustrating news,” he admitted. “I’m not getting better as fast as I’d hoped.” He didn’t even think of upsetting her with the news about his recent package in the mail.

  “What’s up?” he asked, for the first time almost grateful for his family to focus on.

  His mother paused. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m calling about Ben. I visited with him after lunch and I’m horrified by where he’s living. Did you know he’s crashing on a friend’s couch? He gave up his apartment because he couldn’t pay the rent.” Her voice rose in panic. “I had no idea things were so bad. He never told me.”

  Obviously Ben had managed to lie about where he was living until faced with his mother in the flesh.

  Roper massaged the back of his suddenly stiff neck. “Mom, Ben’s a big boy. There are any number of jobs he could take that would bring in a weekly salary so he could keep an apartment. He chooses not to apply for them. Just like he chooses to ignore my phone calls or discuss potential coaching jobs.”

  Just like his mother chose not to take acting roles she believed were beneath her. The difference was that Ben had lost enough of Roper’s money that Roper no longer felt obligated to help his brother.

  “You never did understand how frustrating it is for Ben to live in your shadow,” she said.

  Roper let out an angry groan. “I’ll tell you about frustrating. I just had a doctor’s appointment where I learned that despite all the work I’ve done in the past few months, my shoulder isn’t strong enough for spring training. I’ve been killing myself and it just doesn’t matter. So I can’t summon much pity for Ben at the moment. He’s brought his problems on himself.”

  A long pause followed, which Roper took to mean his mother finally understood how serious he was about not wanting to discuss Ben. “Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked, her voice softening.

  “No, thanks. I’ll be fine. I want to grab something to eat before my P.T. appointment, so I need to get going.”

  “Okay. But just one more thing? I have a situation,” she said.

  Roper narrowed his gaze. Did it ever end? “What kind of situation?”

  “It seems that Harrison Smith followed me to New York. In fact, he’s staying in the same hotel. He wants me to take that role I told you about and he’s being very persistent. He sent me roses. Not real roses, mind you, but mink roses. Flowers made from fur. They are simply gorgeous. But that’s not the point.”

  “What is?”

  “He insists on having dinner tonight and I can’t deal with him alone. It’s getting harder and harder to resist him.”

  “So don’t.” Roper exhaled hard. “A meaty role would be good for you. Why don’t you just take the part?”

  “Darling, I couldn’t do that. Just do me a favor and join us for dinner tonight. I’ll be forever grateful.”

  “Ask Sabrina and Kevin.”

  “I did, but they have one of Kevin’s business dinners. I need you, darling.”

  “No—”

  “And bring that delightful young woman, Amy, with you.”

  “Delightful young woman?” Just what had happened at lunch, anyway? She hadn’t said.

  “Well, yes. We got to know each other earlier and she’s a joy. I’d love for her to join us at dinner.”

  He’d love to see Amy, too, but not at a family dinner with a Hollywood director. “Mom, I’ve had a rough day and it’s not over yet. I’m not in the mood for a long dinner.”

  “Good! We’ll make it short. Better for me.”

  He glanced heavenward. She wasn’t listening. If he didn’t show up, he’d never hear the end of it. Maybe having dinner out would be better than eating alone in his apartment, thinking about his recent package in the mail or the doctor’s report. Besides, he knew when he’d been beat.

  At least there was a silver lining. His day had sucked. He deserved a break. And he needed to see Amy.

  “Where and when?” he asked.

  She mentioned Kelly’s, a small, casual restaurant he’d been to a couple of times. “Oh, listen, that’s my call-waiting,” his mother said. “Your brother’s on the other line. I’ll see you tonight at seven.”

  Roper nodded, hung up, then called Amy.

  After spending the day with his family already, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d said no to dinner. But surprisingly, she agreed to join them. She even said she’d meet him at his apartment because he’d just be getting back from the physical therapist—where, after today’s news, he realized he’d have to put in one hundred and fifty percent. He needed to focus on his career, not his family. And not on the beautiful woman who’d agreed to be his salvation at dinner tonight.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AMY WAITED IN THE KITCHEN for Roper to finish dressing. She hadn’t planned on seeing him again today, but he’d sounded so down, she couldn’t resist coming along to dinner tonight to make sure he was okay. And considering his mood when he’d answered the door, she was glad she’d agreed. She’d watched his mother in action this morning and again
at lunch and realized how wearing the woman was on those around her. Cassandra Lee expected the world to fall at her feet. No doubt she’d become used to it in the heyday of her career. And then afterward Roper had ensured she always had everything she needed, Amy thought.

  But who made sure Roper had everything he needed? she wondered.

  The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she glanced up to see Roper join her wearing a pair of black jeans and a light blue Burberry shirt. Amy wasn’t into designer clothes. But the Jordan sisters were trying to change that, and thanks to them, Amy recognized the classic plaid. She had to admit, she liked that she could hold her own with Roper, a man who was always immaculately groomed, no matter what his mood.

  “You look good,” Amy said, the words out before she could stop them. A heated blush rushed to her cheeks.

  His gaze bore into hers. “Thank you. You’re looking pretty hot yourself.”

  She blushed deeper.

  “We have a few minutes before we have to leave. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Perrier?” A smile tugged at his lips. “You see? I heard you when you said you didn’t want to drink around me.”

  “Those weren’t my exact words,” she muttered. She’d only said no to a drink last time. But he’d read her mind. Which probably meant he understood her reasons. He was hard to resist when she was sober. Give her a drink and she’d succumb to his charm in an instant. “No, thank you. I’ll wait until we get to the restaurant.”

  “Okay, then. Let me just straighten up and we’ll head on over. With a little luck, Mom and Harrison Smith will be early, too, and we can get this meal over with,” he said, sounding even more preoccupied than usual.

  “Why do I have the feeling that you’re worried about more than spending the evening with your mother?”

  He shrugged, eyeing her as if deciding whether or not to talk. “I’m just sick of hearing from disgruntled fans. They’re entitled to their feelings, but it would be easier if I didn’t have to deal with it at home, too.”