Hot Property (12 page)

“What’s really going on?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you mean. But I do need coffee.” She headed for the kitchen, leaving him no choice but to follow after her. “I took the red-eye and I’m exhausted,” she said, speaking with dramatic effect as she always did.

She blamed her original drama coach. Roper blamed her love of drama.

She made herself at home in his kitchen, looking through cabinets in her search for caffeine. Finally he took pity on her and opened the correct canister, removed the beans and ground them. Maybe once she had her coffee she’d tell him why she was really here.

Out of habit, he switched on the radio and Buckley the Bastard’s voice sounded around him. Though he cringed, he believed in dealing with life as it came. He needed to know what was being said about him if he was to deal with it.

He handed his mother a steaming mug. “So how was your flight?”

“Long.” She wrapped her hand around the cup and sighed. “Then to add insult to injury, the airport lost my bags. Of course they promised they’ll deliver them as soon as they find them, but who knows when that will be.” His mother paused to take a sip of coffee. “Mmm. You always did have the touch.” She lowered herself into the nearest chair, obviously exhausted.

But only one word rang in his ears. “Your
bags?
Plural?”

“Well, yes, bags.” She tucked her set blond hair behind one ear, the shoulder-length strands somehow managing to look sophisticated on her and not at all too young despite her best attempt. “How else can I stay indefinitely unless I brought enough clothes? Although New York does have the best stores. Better than L.A., even, and that’s saying a lot. I think I’ll call my favorite personal shoppers and have them start putting things away for me,” she mused.

“What do you mean, you’re staying indefinitely?” Roper felt a blinding headache coming on.

She placed her cup down and stared at him as if he were the crazy one. “Darling, your sister is getting married and she needs her mother to help her. And of course, you’re going through a career crisis of your own.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” he muttered.

“Not to worry. Mother’s here.” She treated him to her brightest smile.

That’s what he was afraid of.

“This just in.” Frank Buckley’s voice spoke into the silence. “Guess who had lunch at Sparks Steak House yesterday? Nice that our friend John Roper has time for wining and dining his new lady when he should be getting ready for the season.” The man waited a deliberate beat.

“But that’s a high-paid athlete for you. No sense of responsibility. The Buck Stops Here, folks.”

“Son of a bitch.” Roper bristled at the report and accusation. “Who the hell called it in?” he asked.

“It could have been anyone from a waiter to a patron,” his mother said, rising and putting her arm around him. “You know what it’s like to be a celebrity. You grew up under a microscope. Let it go.”

He twisted his neck from side to side, releasing tension. He wished it was as easy as his mother said. “I just don’t like feeling as if my every move is being tracked and scrutinized,” he muttered.

“It’s part of the life,” his mother said.

“The difference between us is that you enjoy it. I just want to play baseball.”

His doorbell rang, cutting off whatever his mother might have replied.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who knows you’re here?” Roper asked her, resigned to more company. “Ben? Sabrina? One of your actress friends you charmed the doorman into letting up without my okay?” He saw his privacy going down the drain.

His mother shrugged, her gaze wide-eyed and innocent. “Actually, no one. When I couldn’t reach you, I packed and headed straight for the airport.”

He headed back to the front door and peered through the viewer, needing advanced warning of the person he’d be dealing with next. One look and his mood lifted. This was someone he didn’t want to disappear.

Roper opened the door, welcoming Amy, an addition Roper himself had made to his doorman’s list. “Thank God,” he said, pulling her inside.

He needed someone on his side when dealing with the steamroller he called his mother.

“Strange welcoming but I’ll take it.” Her smile broadened, easing his strain.

“Not so strange. You aren’t a member of my family, so I’m glad you’re here.” He shut the door behind her and drank in the sight of her.

Dark denim jeans covered her legs like a second skin, while a deep indigo top with bell sleeves floated around her, belted at the waist. Only a hint of a lace tank peeked out from beneath the flowing top. Once again she looked work appropriate and yet so damn sexy, he didn’t care that his mother was in the other room.

“So what brings you by?” he asked.

“Well, first the doorman asked me to give you this,” she said, handing him an oversize envelope with a handwritten scrawl he recognized as belonging to his most persistent fan. And not a fan in love with him, either.

Ever since the end of the series in October, Roper had been receiving letters and packages from a fan who called himself Season Ticket Holder, a not-so-veiled reference to the fact that he expected more results for his money than Roper had provided.

“Thanks for bringing up my mail,” he said, not wanting to make a big deal of the letter and draw attention to the fact that he had someone determined to remind him of his failures. He accepted the envelope from Amy and tossed it aside.

“You’re welcome. Now, I’m here because I have a plan.” Amy’s eyes glittered with excitement. “I was up late working on a way to organize your life and give you the time you need. I really think you’re going to be impressed.”

“Who’s at the door?” his mother called, her voice coming closer with every word she spoke.

“Your sister?” Amy whispered.

He shook his head. “Worse.”

At that moment, Cassandra Lee joined them in all her dramatic glory. “John, aren’t you going to introduce me to your—”

“Mom, this is Amy Stone, Amy this is my mother, Cassandra Lee,”

he said, cutting her off before she could draw any conclusions about who Amy was. No way was he playing “fill in the blanks” with his mother.

Amy’s eyes opened wide. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting to find the movie star in the flesh. To Amy’s credit, she recovered quickly and stepped forward, her hand extended. “I’m a huge fan,” she admitted.

“It’s wonderful to meet you. John’s told me so much about you!”

“All of it good, of course?” his mother said, lightly clasping Amy’s hand.

“Is there anything else?” Amy asked, working his mother like a pro.

“I had no idea you were coming to town.”

“That’s because John didn’t know, either. I just love surprises and I missed my children.” Her gaze darted away from Amy’s just enough for Roper to know his mother was lying.

Just enough. Because Cassandra Lee was an accomplished actress, only her son would have caught the slip.

“I’m sure you know John’s sister is planning a wedding and she needs my help,” his mother continued.

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t matter why his mother was here.

Only that she’d arrived and planned on staying. Which meant what little peace and quiet he had, which admittedly wasn’t much, was now over.

He had one source of salvation and she just happened to have arrived at the right moment. He wondered if Amy could save him from his family or if she just believed she could. He supposed he’d know soon enough.

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.