Amy met John’s gaze over his mother’s head. He winked at her, but in his eyes, she saw the plea for help. She had to admit being needed by him was seductive, even if it was her job to keep his mother out of his way.
She’d planned on talking to him about his brother, but she could adapt to the unexpected. Surely even a famous actress had to be easier to deal with than the perpetually naked residents she dealt with back in Florida.
“I’m exhausted after traveling all night. Would you mind if we got to know each other later? I need to lie down.” Without waiting for a reply, Cassandra started for the guest room down the hall.
“Wait!” Amy strode up to her. “You don’t want to stay here, do you? John gets up early in the morning. Wouldn’t a hotel suite be more comfortable? You’d have room service day or night, turn-down service in the evening and a full staff to make you more comfortable,” Amy said, finishing on a winded breath.
Cassandra’s eyes lit up at her suggestion. “That’s a wonderful idea. John, wherever did you find her?” his mother asked.
Amy glanced at Roper, whose tight smile had turned into a full-fledged grin. A sexy grin, not that she wanted to admit as much.
“I work for the Hot Zone,” Amy said.
He walked over and slung a casually draped arm over her shoulder. “Isn’t she the best?” Roper asked.
“I must admit she’s got more on the ball than the usual women you associate with.” Cassandra looked Amy over with practiced ease.
She tried not to fidget under the scrutiny or imagine how she came up short compared to the other women in Roper’s life. A New York makeover could only go so far….
As if sensing her discomfort, Roper pulled her closer. His body aligned with hers, bare chest and all. Heat shot upward as his masculine morning scent wrapped around her, making her tingle.
She swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. “Well, why don’t I go make that hotel reservation?”
“Good idea, but not the Ritz Carlton or the Waldorf. I prefer the London NYC. Their staff is my favorite. Book me one of their specialty suites.”
“Mother, you do not need twenty-two-hundred square feet of space for a short stay. Book her a Vista Suite.”
“A two-bedroom,” Cassandra countered.
“Fine,” Roper said through clenched teeth.
Obviously this was a vintage performance by his mother.
“Please ask if Chef Gordon Ramsay is in town. If so, invite him to dinner. We’re old friends,” she said, as if Amy were her assistant.
Amy accepted the direction with a nod, and his mother continued to instruct Amy on her likes and preferences. She wished she had her pen and paper ready.
“When you call, you may tell them who I am, but put the reservation under John’s name and ask them not to let anyone know I’m there.”
Amy nodded. Another celebrity quirk she assumed. One that would get Cassandra Lee the perks due her by virtue of her name but assure her some privacy at the same time.
Desiring anonymity with the media was something Amy could understand. “No problem. Anything else?”
Cassandra shook her head. “No, I’ll talk to them when I arrive and make sure I have what I need, but thank you. You’re a doll.”
Roper squeezed Amy’s forearm lightly, which she took as a show of appreciation.
A few phone calls and no less than three interruptions later, Amy had arranged for a Vista Suite that overlooked Central Park with extra-special service to compensate for the fact that the two-bedroom rooms were booked, lucky for Roper. She hired a limousine to pick Cassandra up and drive her over, with a stop at Saks on the way so she could pick up some clothes to tide her over until her suitcases were found.
And thirty minutes after that, Roper’s mother was gone in a flurry of air kisses and promises to call after she’d napped and taken a refreshing bath. It was only 10:00 a.m.
Roper collapsed on the couch in the living room, patting the space beside him.
“Your mother is a living, breathing tornado,” Amy said, flopping down next to him.
“Welcome to my world. Yet you handled her like a pro.” Awe tinged his voice as he tipped his head to one side.
She met his gaze and tried not to read more into the molten stare than gratitude, but it was hard. The problem for Amy was more than attraction. She liked doing things for him. She enjoyed helping him and being successful at it. And she definitely liked it when he looked at her with those bedroom eyes that held promises she just knew he was capable of keeping.
“It’s what I’m paid to do,” she reminded herself, and him. Too bad she wasn’t listening.
“And you did it well.”
She didn’t miss the sudden drop in his tone. The husky sound had her heart skipping a beat.
“Now, about that date…”
The one she’d refused to think about since he’d mentioned it at lunch the day before.
He stretched his arm over the couch, not so subtly reaching her shoulders with his fingertips. She recognized the practiced move for what it was and shot him a knowing look he ignored.
She wished she could do the same with his suggestion they go on a date. “It isn’t a good idea to mix business with pleasure,” she told him.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She grew immediately wary. “You agree with me?”
He nodded. “Of course I do. Business is business. That’s what you did for me this morning and that’s what we’ll discuss in a few minutes. Our date will be personal. We won’t mix the two at all.”
She rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a laugh. “That’s ass-backwards logic.” But a damn good attempt at manipulating her into saying yes, she silently admitted.
He chuckled. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eight?”
“I don’t remember saying yes.”
“I don’t remember you saying no, either. So tell me, what brings you by?” he said as if that settled that.
But switching subjects gave her time to compose herself. She started filling him in on her plan to manage his life, starting with his brother. She informed him of the progress she’d made in getting Ben interviews at various schools in the northeast, leaving Roper to figure out how he’d approach Ben.
Amy then suggested he win Cassandra over to the idea first. Getting his mother on his side would all but ensure Ben’s agreement. But she knew convincing his mother that coaching wasn’t beneath her son was the equivalent of convincing Cassandra that television wasn’t a step down from the big screen. It was a daunting task and they both knew it.
And all the while they talked business, Roper’s invitation lay between them. Knowing she should say no to dinner was one thing. Actually doing it was something else. She had few friends in town, and like it or not, Roper was one of them.
Deep in her heart she knew she’d made her decision. Besides, dinner was harmless. Wasn’t it?
CASSANDRA GENEROUSLY TIPPED the doorman, who had brought up her many purchases and deposited the bags in the foyer. Shopping usually brought her inner peace, but not today. She was running as fast as she could from L.A. and she wondered how long she could hide the reason from her son.
John always saw through her, more so than any of her other children. She couldn’t let him know she was running not just from a role he’d demand she take, but from a man she’d once loved. She’d lived on her own for so long, she was afraid of the pull this man had over her.
All the drama she lived for in acting was suddenly part of her life, and she wasn’t ready to face it. Instead she’d decided to go to New York to help her children.
And they needed her, Sabrina and her wedding, Ben and his inability to find himself and John and his career problems. The fact that a big city like New York was the perfect place to hide from Harrison Smith was merely a bonus.
AFTER AMY LEFT, ROPER picked up the envelope she’d delivered. Just as he’d thought, his Season Ticket Holder fan had written yet again. This time he went bey
ond expressing his displeasure with Roper’s performance last season. Thanks to the recent spate of news coverage, his fan had another gripe. He said in his computer-generated note, “Instead of spending your money on women and entertainment, I suggest you work harder at digging yourself out of the hole you’re in. Otherwise instead of the Hall of Fame, you’ll be looking at the Hall of Shame.”
Roper groaned and tossed the paper into the garbage. The guy wasn’t even original. He was just a pain in the ass.
Roper spent the next two days taking care of his daily workout regimen, then either refereeing his mother and sister or spiriting his mother around Manhattan, during which time she refused to discuss her life in L.A., the role she was avoiding or job possibilities for Ben.
She dismissed a future for her younger son in coaching as squarely as she did the role Harrison Smith wanted her to take. She felt it wasn’t fair to make Ben feel any more belittled than he already did with all the failed enterprises behind him. Roper knew better than to argue with a woman who had made avoiding conversations she didn’t like an art form.
Instead he tried to call his brother to set up a meeting. He figured a face-to-face discussion might help Ben understand why Roper didn’t want to invest more cash in any more get-rich-quick schemes. Then he could pump up his brother’s ego by explaining all the good he could do by coaching kids. It wasn’t that Ben didn’t have baseball talent. He did. He just didn’t have major league talent.
Roper had thought Ben would appreciate the chance to plead his case for the gym money, if nothing else. But Roper couldn’t reach his brother. Ben had no phone other than his cell, where Roper’s number would show up. And since Ben refused to return Roper’s calls, it was obvious Ben was avoiding him—which led Roper to believe that his mother had tipped Ben off.
Which left Roper more frustrated than ever.
AMY SPENT THE NEXT TWO DAYS familiarizing herself with the New York press and media, their names, as well as those of other Hot Zone clients. Roper was her first assignment, but she wanted to show she was on top of things and ready to go at a moment’s notice.
She also was learning to check the papers and relevant Web sites each morning, and for the second day in a row, she clicked on Frank Buckley’s blog for eSports. Without a doubt, the man had it in for Roper. As she looked back at his daily rantings, each day started off with a line drive aimed directly at the Renegades’ center fielder.
Unfortunately yesterday’s was the worst, at least as far as Amy was concerned. She read aloud, “‘Guess who had lunch at Sparks Steak House yesterday?’”
Amy was outraged, and not just because she’d once again been linked romantically with Roper. “The man calls himself a reporter? He ought to check his facts. It was a business lunch,” she said aloud. And she’d rather any attention she received be for acting as his publicist rather than as his girlfriend.
A knock startled her, and she glanced up from the papers on her desk to see Annabelle standing in the doorway, an amused smile on her face.
“You heard me talking to myself?”
The other woman nodded. “Want some advice?”
“Gladly.”
“You can ignore the rantings or you can send a professional letter correcting him. My vote would be to ignore it. I wish I could say that it would make it go away, but at least it’ll keep you calm. Mind if I come in and say hi?” she asked.
Amy waved her in. “Of course not. I could use the break.” Amy put her pen down and pushed her chair back so she could relax. “You’re right. I’m going to ignore it. I wonder how Roper does.”
Annabelle seated herself in a chair across from the desk and smoothed her short skirt over her legs. “Frankly, I doubt he does ignore it, which is another reason why he’s so stressed.”
Amy nodded, knowing the other woman was right. “So how’s your daughter?” Amy asked.
“Delicious. She is the sweetest thing.” Annabelle’s expression softened at the thought of her little girl. “I don’t have pictures on me, but they’re in my purse and on my desk. Stop by later and I’ll show them to you,” she said like a proud mother.
Amy smiled. “I can’t wait to see them.”
“What about you? How have your first few days been?” Annabelle asked.
“Oh, a little like trial by fire,” Amy said, only partially joking. “Between the newspaper incident the first day and Roper’s mother showing up unexpectedly yesterday, I have my hands full. Short of getting him out of town—” No sooner had she said the words than she realized she had the solution. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?” Annabelle leaned forward in her seat.
Amy bit down on her bottom lip, wondering if her idea was pushing it. “Well, I realize Roper’s family issues can’t be solved overnight, but spring training is around the corner. He’s got to do something—and I just realized taking him out of town is the key. Getting him away from his family to a place where he can work out, where he can do his physical therapy and focus solely on getting his game back is exactly what he needs.” She glanced at the woman across from her. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s brilliant. Of course, who knows how Roper will feel, but he’s dedicated enough to his career to like the notion.” Annabelle nodded. “Yep, the more I think about it, the better I like it. And I have the perfect place for him to escape to.”
Amy grabbed her pen and a fresh piece of paper. “Where?”
“Vaughn’s place in Greenlawn,” she said of her husband’s lodge.
Amy had heard about the Upstate New York retreat from her uncle Spencer. Next to his wife and daughter, the place was Vaughn’s pride and joy. “Tell me some more.”
“Well, during the summer it’s a camp for underprivileged kids, but during the winter it serves as a retreat. The price tag is high, but that’s because he wants to attract a clientele who will help him fund the summer camp for the kids.”
“That’s such a wonderful thing,” Amy said.
“That’s Vaughn. He just gets what these kids need.” Annabelle’s pride in her husband was unmistakable as her blue eyes softened. “But for guests like Roper, there are rooms and suites. Each has a fireplace. There are a variety of restaurants for meals, room service for privacy and a state-of-the-art gym. And it’s about an hour and a half from the city, which can be a hassle if you need a physical therapist to travel there, but since Vaughn’s football buddies make use of the place, we’ve managed to locate a really good P.T. nearby. I’m telling you, it has everything you need.”
Amy’s mind was reeling with the possibilities. “It sounds as if it does.”
“The best part is the people who can afford it understand the idea of privacy. Nobody will bother Roper at all.” Annabelle spoke with animation in her voice, her hands waving in the air as her excitement grew.
“Will it be booked now? It is a winter resort….”
Annabelle shook her head. “Yes and no. Yes, it’s booked, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for Roper. The Hot Zone reserves a suite each year for clients or family members who need the break. No one’s using it now that I know of.”
Wow. Roper could escape, and while he was preparing mentally and physically for the season, Amy could help him with anything his family needed here in the city. She liked the idea. A lot.
After jotting down the name of the lodge and its location, Amy glanced up. “Sounds perfect. The only question is whether I can convince Roper to leave without telling his family exactly where he’s going.” And seeing how Cassandra had reacted when he’d ignored a phone call, Amy knew she could be courting disaster. “There’s another issue, too.” A big one, Amy thought.
“What is it? I’m sure we can figure out a solution.”
“Money. Although Roper doesn’t discuss it much, Yank told me to keep his expenses low because his family isn’t only soaking up his time, they’re a drain on his cash flow, as well. He’s hardly broke, but what’s liquid goes fast. And if his rehab doesn’t go
as planned, he’ll take a big hit. I don’t know if he’ll agree to spend money on the lodge when he has a gorgeous Manhattan apartment sitting empty.”
“Hmm.” Annabelle’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Well, the Hot Zone has already paid for the season. And he is our client…” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll clear it with Uncle Yank.”
Annabelle rose and Amy stood to walk her out. “Thanks for stopping by. Talking to you helped me flesh some things out,” Amy said.
Annabelle grinned. “My pleasure. That’s what we do around here, help one another any way we can. Remember that and feel free to knock on my door anytime.”
“I’ll do that,” Amy said.
Annabelle paused. “You work on Roper and let me know when he wants to go.”
Amy nodded. She couldn’t possibly commit to a time frame yet. Coming up with the idea had been the easy part. Convincing Roper to take her up on spending the rest of his off-season at Vaughn’s lodge in Greenlawn would be her greatest challenge.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED quickly and too soon, and Amy had to head home and get ready for her dinner with Roper. He picked her up as planned and drove her in his Porsche to a small restaurant called Leto’s in Little Italy.
He’d taken over an entire restaurant where his friend was the owner and chef, ensuring their privacy. When she’d questioned the expense, he’d assured her his friend owed him a favor. Then he’d gone on to regale her with amusing tales of his baseball exploits and time on the road. She’d engaged him with her crazier stories about the residents at her mother’s retirement community and the fun she’d had trying to keep them out of jail.
Roper at his most charming left Amy without any defenses to resist. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to impress her before. It wasn’t the fact that he’d arranged to shut down an entire restaurant that struck a chord with her, but the fact that he cared enough about her desire for privacy to bother. She forgot her resolve to keep her distance. During dinner, he covered her hand with his and she let him, enjoying the contact. She promised herself she’d turn the discussion to business and her idea for him to go into seclusion, but instead, she let herself be swept away by his charm, and not once did the subject of work come up.
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