CHAPTER ONE
One month later
Sports agent Yank Morgan sat in the backseat of his Lincoln and rubbed a hand over his scruffy beard. Scruffier now since his wife, Lola, had thrown out his razor to prevent him from accidentally slitting his throat. Dang woman had also somehow discovered where he’d hidden his spares. Apparently an almost-blind man had no privacy in his own bathroom.
Normally he’d be angry, but considering his eyesight had gotten worse, he was forced to admit Lola had a point. Macular degeneration was messing with the balance of power in his marriage. Telling a woman she was right about anything, though, especially his woman, would be the equivalent of relinquishing his throne. And that wasn’t happening at home or at work.
“We’re here, Mr. Morgan,” J.D., the ex-football player he’d hired as his driver, said. “Want me to walk you inside?”
Yank shook his head. “No, thanks. It’s bad enough you had to drive me here. I don’t need you as my guide. I got Noodle for that.” His Labradoodle sat beside him and Yank patted her furry head. He’d got the dog when she was a pup, but now she was the size of her standard poodle mother.
“Be careful. I don’t want to end up at the emergency room again because you tripped over something you and the mutt didn’t see.”
“She’s not a mutt, she’s a mix of two pure breeds,” Yank said proudly as he opened his car door.
“I still say you should have bought a real guide dog and not a pet.” J.D. came around and met him.
Yank frowned. “Keep sounding like my wife and you’ll have to find yourself a new job.”
J.D. merely laughed. “You say that every day,” he said as he helped Yank out of the car.
Yank did his best to ignore the indignity of needing aid at basic tasks. A man accepted what a man had to accept. “You remind your father we’re playing poker tonight,” Yank said.
Nobody asked how Yank played without being able to see the cards, and Yank refused to discuss it. He’d rather lose money every month than give up the things he loved. And J.D.’s father, Curly, had been in Yank’s poker game for years, even before Yank had become his nieces’ guardian when they were little girls.
J.D. scratched Noodle’s fluffy fur and helped Yank pull the dog out of the car. “You think I need to remind Dad of something he’s been doing every month for most of his life? At least now with Lola around I know he won’t be smoking. You and my father. Neither one of you listen to your doctors,” J.D. muttered.
“Wait till you get older before passing judgment. I’ll only be about fifteen minutes.” Yank pulled his heavy jacket tighter around him and let the dog lead him toward the door of the gym.
Part Labrador retriever, part poodle, completely dense when it came to being in charge, Noodle wasn’t the guide dog Yank should have gotten, but he enjoyed the pretense. It was fun making people think he was a little bit crazy. There were worse ways to spend his life, he thought, laughing.
He made his way to the weight room in the back of the gym. The trainers and employees were used to him visiting clients and bringing Noodle along. He headed for where he knew he’d find John Roper, letting years of experience lead the way. The main part of the gym was noisy and crowded, but as he approached the private rooms in the back, Yank could hear that there weren’t as many people there.
Which Yank figured was the reason his not-so-star baseball player client John Roper chose to work out here and now. Unfortunately, the televisions were on and the sound coming from the speakers told Yank that morning sports talk-show host, Frank Buckley, was spouting off at the mouth as usual.
“Spring training is around the corner and this New York Renegade fan still hasn’t gotten over John Roper’s disastrous last season or his role in the Renegades Game 5 World Series loss. Call in and let me know if your lack of expectations match mine for the highly overpaid hero. The Buck Stops Here, folks.”
The television station went to commercial at the same time Roper yelled aloud, “Somebody shut that damn thing off before I rip the speakers off the wall.”
When nobody moved, Yank added his two cents. “Can’t you hear the man? Shut off the noise or we’ll sue you for intentional infliction of emotional distress.”
The weights clanged hard as Roper dropped them to the floor. “Morgan, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Visiting the dumbbells.” Yank laughed at his own joke.
Roper didn’t.
“You still upset over Buckley the Bastard’s tirade? Grow up and get over it,” Yank said. He’d already tried coddling Roper through his rough patch and it hadn’t worked. He was moving on to tough love.
“Someone dropped off a Roper bobblehead doll with my doorman. Damn thing had a knife stuck in the shoulder.”
Yank groaned. The fans wouldn’t let Roper forget his nightmarish last season. He hadn’t been able to hit or throw, and to make things worse, he’d sprained his shoulder in a failed attempt to stop a game-winning home run by slamming it into the center field wall. This in addition to striking out earlier when the bases were loaded and the Renegades had a chance at the go-ahead run. Their team had lost, the fans needed a scapegoat, and they’d chosen the highest-priced center fielder in the game to sacrifice. Not that the man wasn’t in a slump, but losing had been a team effort.
Now Buckley insisted on continuing the torture in the off-season. Roper had every right to be pissed. He didn’t need Buckley riling up the fans against him in his daily tirades.
“Are you sure Buckley doesn’t have a personal grudge?” Yank asked.
Roper rose to his feet, looming large over Yank. “I screwed his ex-girlfriend. She just didn’t see fit to mention she was no longer his ex on the night in question.”
Yank chuckled. “He oughta let it go.”
“She’s his wife now,” Roper said.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Roper agreed. “You do realize that if this was a lesser market, nobody would pay attention to anything Buckley said?”
Yank shook his head. “But it isn’t a lesser market. It’s New York.” And that said it all.
Athletes were like movie stars here, back-and front-page news and fodder for gossip. “You used to love the attention,” Yank reminded him.
Prior to his funk, Roper had been known for being a high-maintenance outfielder. ESports TV, Magazine and Radio named Roper among the top metrosexual athletes of the year. Yank didn’t get why grown men like Roper spent good money on the best clubs, gyms and hairdressers. What normal man had his back waxed? Yank had no idea. But Roper’s good-looking mug had made them both a boatload of money, so Yank wasn’t about to complain.
“I did love the attention,” Roper said. “Until my talent went south.” Roper leaned forward on the bench, elbows on his knees, and stared ahead at nothing in particular. “So what are you really doing here?” Roper asked.
“I came to cheer you up. I don’t want the media to see you down and I sure as hell don’t need you taking a swing at one of them, no matter how much they provoke you.”
“That sounds like a message from Micki.”
Yank’s niece, Michelle, was Roper’s close friend, as well as his publicist. She was the resident expert at the Hot Zone for keeping her high-maintenance client out of trouble and out of the press.
Then again, maybe some good press was exactly what Roper needed. “I have a present for you. Here’s a gift certificate.” Yank pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Go get yourself a massage and a manicure.”
“Not in the mood.”
Yank didn’t know what else to do in order to help his dejected client. “Don’t you want to look your best for the annual Hot Zone New Year’s party?”
“I’m not going.”
Yank smacked him upside the head. “You sure as hell are. You’re going to hold yourself up and make like life’s grand. Attitude is everything and right now yours sucks.”
Yank couldn’t see well but he figured Roper was scowling at him about now. “I’m sure you’re having a rough time after the series, but obviously, something more has you bent out of shape. The happy-go-lucky guy I know wouldn’t be sulking like a pansy.”
Roper rose and Yank felt the other man’s height close beside him.
“You want to know what’s bothering me? Where should I start? I could live with last year’s disaster if I thought I was definitely coming back, but we both know the shoulder’s not healing the way it should. That means my career may be shorter than we’d anticipated. Not a financial problem given my huge contract, right?”
“Unless you pissed it away…” Yank said, not at all serious.
“You know me better than that. But my family’s working hard at doing it for me.”
Yank blinked. “Ever hear just say no?”
“You try telling them that.”
Yank wasn’t worried about Roper’s future. The younger man had come to him for investment advice and Yank knew he’d diversified wisely. But if his career was shortened due to injury and his family was going through his money like water, Yank could understand the man’s distress. “Slow ’em down, then,” Yank suggested.
“Yeah, I’m trying,” Roper muttered. “Do me a favor? Tell Micki I need time to myself. If she doesn’t quit worrying and sending you around to check on me, I’m going to let the Hot Zone go. Who knows? If I can’t play this season, I may not need a PR firm at all.”
Yank frowned. “Micki’s not worried about you as a client, you ass. She’s worried about you as a friend.”
“I know that,” Roper said, sounding more subdued and apologetic. “I appreciate her concern, but there’s nothing she can do unless she’s got a magic cure for the shoulder.”
Even Yank knew when to give a man space, and John Roper needed it more than Yank had realized. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said to the man he both liked and admired.
“What’s that?”
“Come to the party and I promise nobody will be talking business. You could use some time to relax. No media invited. What do you say?”
Roper remained silent for too long.
Obviously, the man was tense and strung tight if he couldn’t bring himself to say he’d come to a party. “When was the last time you got laid?” Yank asked, voicing the first question that came to mind.
“None of your damn business.”
Yank chuckled at the quick answer. “Then it’s been too damn long.”
Yank had seen the symptoms in other good men, as well. Men who spent too much time alone and needed a woman in their lives. Not that he’d know… No sir, but he knew Roper needed a distraction from focusing on his World Series screwup or the start of spring training in February.
Too bad Yank had already hooked up his three nieces with solid men. But just because his girls were taken didn’t mean Yank couldn’t work his magic with Roper and another woman.
But who could he find to put up with a man who liked things orderly and neat, designer and upscale? He went through the women in his office, then smacked himself for being so dense. He should have thought of the female solution to Roper’s problems sooner.
Amy Stone, the niece of his partner, Spencer Atkins. She was feisty, pretty and single, and only an idiot could have missed the sparks between Amy and Roper at Sophie’s wedding. Roper’s date had been a bimbo but not an idiot, Yank thought, recalling the drink she’d spilled down Roper’s shirt and their immediate exit right afterward. And since Amy had just moved to the city and taken a position at the Hot Zone, she didn’t know many people in town. Yes, sir, Amy was his answer.
He didn’t intend to tell Roper, though. Yank loved surprises. “Come to the party,” Yank insisted.
“You’ll leave me alone if I do?”
Yank nodded. “Scout’s honor,” he said, raising his hand.
Roper shrugged. “Okay, then. Why the hell not?”
Yank tugged on Noodle’s leash, and as they walked out the door, Yank whistled, pleased with his handiwork.
J.D. met him by the car. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
“Because I’m not a Boy Scout and I never have been,” Yank said, laughing. John Roper was about to benefit from Yank being a lying, meddling son of a bitch.
* * *
Amy loved Florida. She enjoyed the warm weather all year, the ease of never having to wear a winter jacket. It was one of the reasons she’d stayed down South instead of going away to college. She also was a person who appreciated comfortable surroundings, and her home and family in Florida represented the familiar.
Her father had died of a heart attack when she was young. But thanks to her mother and aunt, and her uncle’s frequent visits, she’d never felt alone or neglected. Still, she’d been old enough to remember her father and she’d always felt his absence in her life. While her mother was wild, spirited and free, her father had been more reserved, the epitome of good manners.
When she was a kid, she’d had some wild antics of her own, like when her father had insisted they give the puppy she’d found to the pound. Granted it was a no-kill shelter, but she’d wanted that dog, and to prove her point, she’d picketed—with signs—from the garage roof below her bedroom window. He had insisted she come down before she fell off, making his disapproval with her technique clear along with his fear for her safety. He preferred she use traditional, safe methods to make her point instead of alerting the neighbors and causing them to panic and call both him and 9-1-1.
She laughed at the memory, because it had been one of the few times she’d made use of her mother’s genes—the ones she usually kept hidden inside her. From that point on, she’d tried to please her father and rein in any wildness. Even after he was gone, Amy had never stopped trying to please him.
Being a social worker, helping out others in need, was something she knew her father would have been proud of. When she’d lost that job, thanks to one of her mother’s more outrageous stunts, she’d been devastated and she’d retreated home to lick her wounds. While there, she fell into the habit of looking out for her mother and her friends, again something her father would have approved of. She’d ended up as the social director of the seniors’ community and she had to admit the job had been a good fit for her.
But she’d spent enough time watching over her mother and she missed being with people her own age. Amy had woken up on her birthday and realized not only hadn’t she accomplished her old dreams, she’d forgotten to make new ones. Uprooting herself from the familiar was the first step in forging a new life. One that included a new career—with the Hot Zone, thanks to her Uncle Spencer and the generosity of the Jordan sisters in giving her a chance.
Now, on New Year’s Eve, she stepped off the elevator at the Park Avenue offices of the Hot Zone and glanced at the guests, the male ones in particular, and an immediate feeling of déjà vu swept over her. Just like at Sophie and Riley’s wedding, she felt out of her element. Would she ever get used to being surrounded by buff, hot men? She hoped not, she thought, as she glanced around at her new normal.
The coat-check woman greeted her and took her jacket. A server offered her a glass of champagne, which Amy declined. She wanted a clear head for all the new faces and names she’d encounter, as well as access to her memories of those she’d already met at the wedding. Those memories were vivid. Especially the ones of John Roper and how disappointed she’d been by his deception. Of course, maybe he’d have told her about his date given more time.
And maybe he hadn’t leaned close enough to kiss her cheek, she thought, still disappointed by the outcome. No matter how much she wanted to believe he’d been as blindsided by their attraction as she’d been, that he couldn’t help but act on it, date or no date, she knew she was deceiving herself. In all likelihood, the man was exactly what he seemed to be—a guy trying to juggle more than one woman at a time.
The man was a superstar athlete, a celebrity who was probably used to women falling at his feet. Amy had grown up listening to her uncle’s stories of his famous clients. And Amy had inadvertently played the role of doting admirer. But that wasn’t who she was. Amy wasn’t into the glitz, glamour and fame celebrity brought.
She exhaled a stream of air, annoyed at herself for giving Roper any thought at all. She forced herself to focus on the holiday decorations that lingered from Christmas and the pretty silver balls hanging from the ceiling. A professionally decorated tree sat in the corner twinkling with lights that were sure to be taken down soon after the first of the year. The decor outdid anything she, her mother and aunt back in Florida had managed to set up in the clubhouse each year.
“Amy?”
She turned at the sound of her name above the noise of the happy crowd. Sophie Jordan approached quickly, a warm smile on her face. No matter how many times Amy saw Sophie, she was always shocked by her beauty and perfection. Tonight her honey-blond hair was pulled back in a neat knot, her face beautifully made up.
Amy hugged Sophie, the sister who was the organizer behind the Hot Zone. She had met Sophie for the first time in Florida last year. Though Sophie wasn’t as touchy-feely as Amy, she hugged right back.
“You look happy. Marriage to my cousin must agree with you,” Amy said, taking in Sophie’s glowing face.
Sophie grinned. “Well, marriage to Riley is pretty darn good.”
“I just bet it is. Where is my cousin, anyway?”
“He’ll be here soon.”
“And your sisters?” Amy glanced over Sophie’s shoulder. “Are they around here somewhere?”
“Unfortunately, Micki’s still on the island—her husband, Damian, owns a slice of paradise. Her daughter had a respiratory infection and Damian insisted on taking the family to a warmer climate for a little while. From what they say, it seems to be helping. But Annabelle is here working the crowd. I’m sure you’ll see her soon.”
Amy nodded. “Well, please send Micki my love.”
“I will. And you can do it yourself at the first staff meeting in a few days.”
Amy already knew she was stepping into a high-profile, high-pressure place with loyalty and dedication in spades, and she wanted to play a successful part. Nepotism might have gotten her the job, but only proving herself would keep her here. She was definitely ready for the challenge.
“Well, look who’s here!” a booming male voice said. Her uncle’s partner, Yank, pulled her into a big hug at the same time Amy caught sight of his wife, Lola, standing behind him.
Amy waved to the other woman, who smiled right back.
“Just tell me your crazy mother and aunt are still at home in Florida,” Yank said as he stepped back.
Lola groaned. “Ignore him. He’s had a drink or two and doesn’t know what he’s saying.” She smacked her husband on the shoulder.
“I’m stone-cold sober. You’ve been watering down my drinks all night.” He leaned closer to Amy. “She thinks just because I can’t see, my taste buds have gone, too.”
And he thought Amy’s relatives were crazy? She shook her head and laughed. “No problem, Lola. I’ve heard from Uncle Spencer that Yank says whatever’s on his mind.” She shot the older man a grateful look. “Thank you for giving me a chance here,” she told him.
Yank grinned, obviously pleased. “You see? The only one who’s got a problem with me is you,” Yank said to his wife.
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay, you said your hellos, Uncle Yank. How about giving me a chance to introduce Amy to some other people at the party?”
“I’d like that.” Amy rubbed her hands together.
“Why not start with someone she knows and ease her in. John Roper’s over there in the corner,” Yank said without much tact.
Amy’s stomach flipped. “Oh, I think we can skip over him,” Amy said, only partially meaning it. A traitorous part of her wanted to get a glimpse of him again.
“Nonsense. Amy wouldn’t want him to think he was avoiding her, considering he’s been eyeing her since she walked into the room,” Yank said.
“He has?” Amy asked, then wished she could bite her tongue and take it back. Still, she had to admit it stroked her ego to know Roper’s eyes had been on her since she’d arrived. She had to force herself not to glance at the corner and look over at him.
Lola scowled at her husband. “Leave Amy alone,” she instructed.
“Lola’s right,” Sophie said. “But tell me something. Just how would you know where Roper is, considering you can’t see well enough to identify anyone?” Sophie perched her hands on her hips and eyed her uncle warily.
“She’s got your number, old man,” Lola said, laughing.
“Who are you calling old?” he grumbled.
Lola ignored him, meeting Sophie’s gaze instead. “Actually, Yank’s been checking up on Roper ever since he arrived. I feel like the man’s personal GPS system.”
“Speaking of guides, where is Noodle?” Sophie asked.
“One of the staff took the dog out for a walk.” Lola gestured toward the windows overlooking the city. “They’ll be back soon.”
Sophie nodded. “Gotcha. Well, I can understand your concern for Roper. We’ve all been worried about him lately. The papers have been brutal.”
Despite her better judgment, Amy’s curiosity got the better of her. “Why? What’s going on?”
The other three stared at one another, wide-eyed and surprised.
“I guess New Yorkers forget that not everyone else’s world revolves around sports,” Sophie said, realization dawning. “You know that the Renegades made it to the World Series?”
Amy nodded. She just hadn’t kept up with the details since the opposing team hadn’t been from Florida.
“Roper went into the post season in a serious slump,” Sophie said in a low whisper. “He didn’t play well at all in the series, struck out in the clutch and injured his shoulder in an attempt to stop a home run. The team lost the series and Roper became the media scapegoat.”
“Ouch.” Poor man, she thought, then caught herself. The poor man didn’t need her pity, that much she knew for sure.
Despite herself, Amy’s gaze came to rest on the sexy guy who had made her pulse kick up a notch and her mouth go dry.
And he still had a female cozying up to him just like the last time.
“He doesn’t look happy,” Sophie murmured.
She was right. Despite the attention of a woman who appeared to be hanging on his every word, Roper appeared dazed and bored.
“How odd,” Lola said. “Normally Roper loves every bit of attention he can get, female or otherwise.”
Amy pursed her lips and kept silent. She’d once been all too happy to shower him with that attention. Thanks to the scene made by his date at the wedding, everyone here knew it.
“Must be today’s paper that’s getting to him,” Yank said. “Lola read it to me earlier. The News ran a list of New Year’s resolutions. Said if Roper didn’t get a renewed dose of talent from Santa, he should resolve to take a one-way ticket to Siberia as his contribution to the team.”
“That’s awful,” Amy said, shocked by the brutal treatment despite her feelings about Roper at the moment.
“That’s New York,” Sophie replied. “Something you’ll be getting used to, I promise.”
Amy nodded. “Still, I can’t imagine being the center of such negative press day in and day out.”
Yank shrugged. “In this city, it comes with the territory. The bigger the contracts, the worse the scrutiny and the higher the expectations. Let’s go save him,” Yank said. He practically gave Amy a shove forward, calling Roper’s name at the same time.
So much for steering clear of him, Amy thought. And one glance his way had her wondering why she wanted to.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie whispered, catching up with her.
“Not a problem,” Amy said with a forced smile as they walked forward.
Yank Morgan trailed right along with them until Lola deliberately pulled him away for a scolding.
Amy chuckled at the family dynamic, one to which she could relate. But she had something more important to focus on now than Yank and Lola.
Roper’s gaze locked on Amy’s and her insides twisted with the familiar sense of awareness he’d invoked in her once before.
“Ladies, please come rescue me from wedding talk,” Roper said, reaching out and putting an arm around Sophie’s shoulder.
But he never broke eye contact with Amy.
“Wedding?” Sophie asked, her voice rising. “I didn’t know you were even seeing someone special.”
Wedding? A voice inside Amy’s head echoed and her stomach cramped.
“As in, you and a member of the opposite sex making a permanent commitment? Someone give me a fan. I think I’m going to faint.” Sophie waved a hand in front of her face, mocking him and chuckling at the same time.
“Did you hear that, John? They think you’re getting married.” The woman by his side, a different woman from the last one Amy had seen him with, laughed in real amusement.
When she turned around, Amy realized the other woman was much younger than she’d originally thought. Certainly younger than Amy, and definitely younger than John Roper.
“John’s not my fiancé, he’s my brother,” the other woman explained.
Amy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She wanted to dismiss the wave of relief washing over her, but she couldn’t. Roper wasn’t getting married and she could breathe again. Obviously, despite her frustration with him over their first meeting, the attraction was still there, strong as ever.
“Ah, now that makes more sense.” Sophie nodded in understanding. “I couldn’t see you taking yourself off the market, and I definitely couldn’t see the papers missing out on the courtship.”
“Ha, ha,” Roper muttered.
While they were sparring, Amy took a moment to look at the younger woman with fresh eyes. With the family connection made, Amy saw the resemblance now—the sandy-blond hair, the shape and color of their green eyes and the matching dimples.
“Sabrina, meet everyone here.” Roper inclined his head towards his sibling. “Everyone, meet my sister, Sabrina.” He finished the introductions with a quick wave of his hand.
“Nice to meet you all.” Sabrina smiled, once again reinforcing the family resemblance. “I wish I could stay and hang out, but I’ve got to go find my fiancé.”
“Nice to meet you,” Amy murmured, but Roper’s sister had taken off before she could hear the reply.
Sophie glanced at her watch. “I should follow her lead. Riley should have been here by now.”
“Go on. I’ll take good care of Amy while you’re gone.”
Sophie shot Amy a look of concern, but Amy didn’t want the other woman worrying about her or thinking she couldn’t handle herself with one of Hot Zone’s clients.
Amy put on her brightest smile. “Say hi to Riley and tell him I’ll catch up with him in a few minutes,” Amy said.
“Are you sure?” Sophie’s gaze bounced between Amy and Roper.
Roper pushed off from where he was leaning against the wall and rose to his full, overwhelming height.
“Don’t worry about me,” Roper said, treating Amy to a wink and a grin that caused a tingling straight down to her toes.
“I wasn’t. Amy?” Sophie asked.
“Go find my cousin and give him a kiss for me.” She dismissed the other woman’s worry with an encouraging smile.
Sophie turned to Roper. “You know that Riley will kick your ass if you misbehave, so be good to Amy. She’s new in town.”
He cocked an eyebrow, throwing a sexy look her way. “When am I ever not good?”
Which was exactly what had Amy on edge. But she was a big girl. She could handle herself, as well as John Roper.
Sophie frowned, but after a lingering glance at Amy, took off to find her husband, leaving them alone.
Roper stepped closer. And Amy knew she was in deep trouble.