CHAPTER FOUR
New Year’s Day in a new town was a bummer, Amy thought, staring at the walls of her small apartment. She could pass the day alone, cooped up inside, or she could brave the cold and hit the department stores. She’d already gone shopping with Sophie and Annabelle for a new work wardrobe, but she still needed heavy sweaters and clothes for the change in climate. Even if shopping hadn’t been a necessity, keeping busy was. Anything to stop her from thinking about John Roper and the media circus that was a part of his life.
She could fall hard for the man, that much she knew. Never mind that he had one hot body and he’d singed her with kisses that left her wanting more. He was sensitive and he cared for his family, he cooked, for goodness’ sake, and he’d decorated his own apartment. Yet what should be a perfect start to a possible relationship wasn’t. Everything about John Roper and his life was detrimental to her goals and needs.
She’d grown up with a father who instilled in her the need to make a difference in the world, and her short career as a social worker had been a sure way of doing just that. She understood she was idealizing her dad, but even her mother always spoke of what a good man he’d been. Make your father proud, Amy. She’d tried.
She’d failed.
She’d been let go from her job as a social worker for the state because her mother’s antics, captured in the paper with Amy by her side, contradicted the necessary level of decorum her boss insisted went with her job. Instead of looking for other employment, she’d moved back home and taken the position of social director at her mom and aunt’s retirement community to watch over them. Surely her father had been nodding in approval over that move.
Her dad had been a stabilizing influence in Rose Stone’s life, but after he died, she’d gotten more wild. Uncle Spencer had never tried to control his sisters. They were extremely close to him, as was Amy, but he believed in letting people make their own mistakes. Besides, considering he lived in New York, Amy knew there wasn’t much he could do even if he’d tried. So Amy had stepped in, taking over where her father had left off. She could be stern when she needed to be, and she’d had things in Fort Lauderdale well in hand.
She’d bailed her mother and aunt out of the local jail more times than she could count for being a public nuisance. From raucous parties to turning the water in the fountain in the local mall pink in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Amy’s mother and aunt had indulged in an array of bad behavior.
The only reason none of the arrests had resulted in anything more serious than a warning, a fine or community service was because their local judge had a crush on Aunt Darla and Rose baked for the police officers, allowing them to avoid the greasy doughnut shops during their downtime. Amy wasn’t a complete stick-in-the-mud and she did find her relatives amusing at times, but she’d always had to be the rational one, the savior. Like Roper, she was the responsible caretaker of the group.
But she had the chance now to make a career for herself even if it wasn’t a world-changing job. She needed to make herself, her mother and, by extension, her late father, proud.
Amy sighed and shook her head. She hated being the center of attention, which was why she was so thrilled to be working at the Hot Zone. She’d be the person behind the celebrity. Even if she wanted to give a relationship or even an affair with Roper a chance, his lifestyle demanded anyone in his personal sphere succumb to the media attention. And that was something she wasn’t willing to be a part of, especially in the big way his life demanded.
She’d just have to push her intense feelings for the man aside in favor of focusing on work and creating a life for herself here in New York.
* * *
The day after New Year’s, Amy sat in the conference room of the Hot Zone offices. All seats around the table were filled and she fidgeted in her seat, ready to begin.
Yank cleared his throat. “The weekly meeting of the Hot Zone and Athletes Only will now come to order.” He slammed his gavel down on the table, missing the rubber padding made to cushion the blow. The wooden hammer hit the conference table and Amy felt the vibrations rippling throughout her body. She jumped up from her seat, then discovered she was the only one who had. Micki, Annabelle, Sophie, Lola and even her Uncle Spencer had already slid their chairs back, away from the table in anticipation of Yank’s move.
Amy’s cheeks burned as she lowered herself slowly back into her chair.
“Sorry. We should have warned you he has no aim.” Micki, tanned from her time on the island, re-settled herself in her chair and the rest of the group did the same.
“And he doesn’t care that he’s scarring an expensive table,” Sophie added.
“Stop talkin’ about me like I’m not in the room,” Yank muttered. “I’m the one in charge. The meeting’s been called to order. As you all can see even if I can’t, we have a new member of the team. Amy, we’re happy to have you.”
“Thank you,” Amy said, touched.
“No thanks necessary,” Annabelle said.
“Besides, change is good.” Lola patted Yank’s hand.
“Even if it means I’m getting older and blinder?” he asked.
“Even then,” Lola said softly.
“Amen,” Uncle Spencer said, probably because he was aging along with his friend, something Amy preferred not to think about too long or too hard.
She remained silent instead, sensing it was the wrong time to interrupt. Even the three sisters remained quiet, letting Yank be comforted by his wife.
Of course, the silence didn’t last long. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Yank asked, all bluster once more. “First order of business. Michelle?” he asked, calling Micki by her given name.
The first half hour of the meeting consisted of a run-through of current clients, assignments and status updates, along with banter most often begun or finished off by Yank. Amy found the dynamic interesting, considering the family-run business operated smoothly despite it all.
“Now, on to the new assignments,” Yank said.
“Amy, we have your first client all lined up,” Micki said. “After Spencer came to us with the idea of hiring you, one of the things that impressed us most was your organizational ability. After all, you’ve spent the past few years single-handedly running the activities at a retirement community where the older residents are cantankerous at worst and difficult at best.”
Amy couldn’t hold back a laugh. “That’s a better description than any I could have come up with.”
“Hey, are you picking on us old folks?” Yank asked.
Uncle Spencer rolled his eyes. “It takes one to know one.”
“Look who’s talking,” Yank said to his best friend.
Annabelle rose from her seat. “Grow up, both of you! Micki, go on.”
Sophie and Lola applauded while Annabelle re-seated herself.
“Okay, as I was saying, when this assignment came in, we immediately chose you because of your ability to micromanage.”
“I’m grateful for your faith in me.” Amy rubbed her hands together, the idea of digging into her new job exciting her. “So tell me more.”
Micki nodded. “We have a client, a baseball player, who is having serious career issues and who needs to focus completely on both the game and on his life. Unfortunately, he has family complications that are distracting him.”
Amy shook her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were talking about John Roper,” she said, without really meaning it.
But every last person at the table turned their gaze her way.
Oh, no, Amy thought. Not Roper. Somehow she managed not to say the words aloud. She couldn’t. Whoever the client was, Amy had no choice but to accept him with a smile. It was her first day, her first assignment, and she could not afford to act like a prima donna.
“So it is John Roper?” Amy asked.
All heads at the table nodded.
“Okay, then.” She pasted on her brightest smile. “At least it’s someone I already know.” Thank goodness nobody at the table knew just how well she’d almost come to know Roper.
“That’s what we thought,” Micki said, obviously pleased with the business pairing.
“Although, if you aren’t comfortable…” Sophie’s voice trailed off, her offer clear. The other woman obviously sensed now, as she’d indicated at the party the other night, that Amy’s history with Roper might make it uncomfortable for her to work with him.
Amy shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Nobody at the table knew she’d spent the night at Roper’s place New Year’s Eve.
A knock sounded on the conference-room door and her Uncle Spencer’s secretary, Frannie, walked in. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I have news that can’t wait.”
“Come on in and let’s hear it,” Annabelle said, gesturing with her hands. “Something juicy, I hope?”
Micki leaned over and whispered to Amy. “Frannie gets the morning papers and fills us in with anything we need to know about our clients that the press got their teeth into first.”
“Got it,” Amy said, nodding.
“You, my dear, have arrived.” Frannie strode over to Amy, taking her by complete surprise. “Photograph and articles.”
“Excuse me?” Amy asked, confused.
“Page Six in the New York Post!” Frannie exclaimed.
“Get out! What are you holding back?” Annabelle asked Amy. At the same time, Micki snatched the paper from Frannie’s hands and began riffling through it.
The other woman, Amy noticed, had a second copy beneath her arm.
“What is on Page Six?” Amy finally managed to ask.
“Only the premier source of celebrity gossip in New York City,” Lola pointed out, her voice calm in the midst of the sisters’ excitement.
Amy thought she might throw up. “Celebrity?” A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as the memory of the flashing cameras outside Roper’s apartment came back to her, more vivid than ever.
“Liz Smith and Cindy Addams’s columns are featured there,” Sophie said. “What does it say about Amy?”
“Quit keepin’ it to yourself,” Yank ordered.
Their curiosity piqued, everyone seemed oblivious to Amy’s anxiety. Everyone except her Uncle Spencer, who glanced at her through worried eyes.
Micki began to read aloud. “What troubled Renegades player needs a distraction from his problematic moves on the field? On New Year’s Eve, hottie John Roper forgot his troubles with a lady friend who is surprisingly not of the garden-variety sexpots he normally dates. Who is she and is it serious? Considering this photo was taken outside Roper’s apartment building on New Year’s Day and the woman was wearing very comfortable clothes, anything is possible. Stay tuned.”
At least they hadn’t mentioned her by name, Amy thought.
“Anything else?” Annabelle asked.
She wanted more?
“The Daily News picked up the piece and ran with it.” Frannie pushed her glasses farther up on her nose and began to read. “‘John Roper is numbing his pain in the arms of a woman. Amy Stone, a Florida transplant and the newest member of the Hot Zone team, was caught sneaking out of his apartment building New Year’s Day wearing nothing more than sweats and high heels from their aborted soiree at the Hot Zone the night before. A new year, a new relationship and maybe a renewed career. I say, “Go for it, Johnny!”’”
Yank snickered.
Amy winced. She’d been trying to forget the incident, going so far as to give up on the outfit she’d left with him. Thanks to the New York press, she was big-time news. She might even have outdone her mother and aunt, and that was saying something.
“What’s the original source?” Sophie asked.
“Gawkerstalker.com.” Frannie offered her copy of the paper to Amy.
She shook her head.
“Even though we didn’t invite the press to the party, I’m guessing someone saw Roper outside the office after the fire alarm went off and called it in. Either they were followed back to Roper’s apartment or they found the information on the Web site and staked out his building hoping for a story.”
“Well, they got one,” Amy muttered. “What is gawkerstalker.com?” she asked.
“A celebrity-sighting Web site. People e-mail, text message or call in celebrity sightings,” Micki explained.
“You’re kidding. I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“Celebs are big news, and in New York, athletes are prime targets, too. In fact, there’s one more mention,” Frannie said.
“Let’s get it over with, please,” Amy said, resigned.
The older woman cleared her throat and silence settled over the room. “We’re not the only ones who keep up with Page Six. Frank Buckley picked up the story, too.”
“Buckley is Roper’s number-one nemesis,” her uncle explained.
Frannie nodded. “I downloaded his comments from his Web site. He says, ‘Premier sports agents Spencer Atkins and Yank Morgan may have one helluva time unloading Roper to any team this off-season, and not just because of his poor playing skills. But if his New Year’s Eve activities are any indication, Roper’s only interested in one kind of game.’”
“Poor playing skills, my ass,” Spencer said, jumping up from the table. “The man still had a batting average of 290, thirty-five home runs and 121 RBIs, even with his problems. He’s got a no-trade clause and he’s not going anywhere,” he said, then lowered himself back into his seat.
That was her uncle, Amy thought. Yank might bluster but Spencer spoke when he had something deliberate and calculated to say. She wondered what he’d have to say to her. Then again, considering his hands-off approach to her mother, maybe he’d forgo the lecture.
Sophie spoke, calming the room. “I suggest we all settle down and discuss things calmly and rationally.”
Lola grabbed the gavel before Yank could second the motion with a smashing blow.
“Does anyone else have anything to add?” Sophie asked.
Yank rose to his feet again, and for the first time Amy realized his brightly patterned shirt clashed with his brown pants. He must have fought Lola on helping him, she thought. Pride was a valued commodity and Amy could understand holding on to it at any cost.
Right now, hers was in shreds.
“Uncle Yank, it’s your turn,” Sophie said, obviously having taken control of the meeting.
Amy wondered if she did the firing. The memory of losing her social-worker job was still clear in her mind.
“I don’t like none of this,” he said, shaking his head.
Here it comes, Amy thought, nausea rolling through her.
“There’s no reason for the reporter who wrote that article to give me second billing to that yahoo,” Yank grumbled, pointing at Spencer. “Athletes Only’s a Morgan Atkins production. Not vice versa.”
“Sit down and shut up,” Lola said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back into his seat. “This isn’t about you and your mammoth ego.”
“No, it’s about me and I want to apologize to all of you,” Amy said. “I know I’ve humiliated this firm by getting involved with a client. If you want to let me go, I completely understand.”
Without warning, Yank burst out laughing. “What’s to apologize for? You didn’t do anything different from any of my other girls.”
All three sisters nodded in agreement.
“Amy,” Micki said, walking over and placing an arm around Amy’s shoulder. “You didn’t cause trouble for the firm. In fact, you single-handedly changed public opinion about John Roper.”
“How so?” she asked, now thoroughly confused by their reaction.
“I’ve been trying to get Roper to act up again and take the spotlight off the World Series disaster. You did it without even trying! And the paper is right. You’re nothing like the bimbos he usually hangs out with, which lets people see him in a new light. A more respected light, even.” Micki’s grin said more than her words ever could about how she felt about the situation.
There were murmurs of agreement from around the table.
Amy narrowed her gaze, confounded by the entire morning. She didn’t understand New York celebrity at all, but she’d better get a handle on it, and fast, because her job depended on just that.
“Amy, your client is waiting for you in your office.”
She blinked, the pronouncement taking her off guard. “You still want me to work with Roper?”
“Of course! You’re still perfect for the job,” Micki assured her.
“Uncle Spencer?” Amy glanced at her uncle, needing his affirmation more than ever.
He nodded. “You’re our girl,” he said with confidence.
Her heart filled, thanks to their support, but pounded hard in her chest with the knowledge that she’d been firmly placed in Roper’s universe. Still, no matter how difficult she’d find keeping her distance from the man on a personal level, compartmentalizing was what she did best.
She had no doubt she could handle the job of organizing his life. She only hoped she could handle John Roper.
* * *
After the meeting adjourned, Micki followed her uncle to the break room. Refusing help, he’d had his assistant bring Noodle to him and let the dog bark and woof her way to where the food was located before Micki took charge and led them both to his office. They sat side by side on the comfortable couch he’d had since she was a little girl who’d come to live with him when her parents died. Unlike her sisters, she’d follow him around, and even insisted he bring her to work. This place had always been in her heart.
“Well, well, well,” Uncle Yank said. “Exciting morning.”
Micki nodded. “Poor Amy. She doesn’t understand New York and what it means to be an athlete here.”
Micki herself had been baptized by fire into the New York PR world. Micki felt awful about the unplanned coverage, but if Amy was going to survive here, she’d have to weather storms like this. Especially if she was going to get involved with Roper. The man was a media magnet.
Not that Micki knew the extent of their relationship. Roper hadn’t mentioned that Amy had spent the night at his place New Year’s Eve, but Micki understood why. Roper was nothing if not a gentleman.
She turned to her uncle. “Roper never mentioned the papers when he stopped by early this morning, so I’m sure he hasn’t seen the articles yet.” Because he’d been solely focused on Amy, Micki thought.
“He probably figured a bigger story would hit and make him old news before the photos were ever published,” Yank said.
“Probably.” Micki stood and paced the office, taking in the awards on the walls and photographs of her uncle and famous athletes he’d represented over the years—including one of Roper the day he’d signed his multimillion-dollar contract with the Renegades. “I feel bad that Amy’s upset, but you have to admit that the media talking about Roper’s love life and not his career is exactly what he needs right now.”
Yank snickered. “The boy needs more than that. But you’re right. It’s a good start. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinkin’.”
Her uncle was referring to his notion of setting up Roper and Amy. After he’d decided on that course, he’d gone to Micki for help. But having been on the receiving end of her uncle’s matchmaking schemes, Micki had refused, despite the fact that she believed the two would make a great couple. Micki wanted nothing more than to see her best friend settled and happy, just as she was with Damian.
But she wouldn’t meddle. “I didn’t come around to your way of thinking. I just happen to think assigning Amy to Roper works for the business.” That it would work for them personally, as well, was a bonus. Or so Micki told herself when she’d paired them as a business team—the idea occurring to her just this morning while Roper was questioning her about Amy Stone, his interest clear.
Her uncle laughed. “Either way, the result’s the same. They’re together. Nature can do the rest.”
* * *
Amy walked into her office only to find it empty. She returned to check back with Kelly, the receptionist she shared with one of the other publicists. “Good morning again,” Amy said.
Before she could ask, the woman handed her a stack of pink message notes. “These are for you,” Kelly said with a smile.
Amy narrowed her gaze. “I don’t know many people in town and this is my first day. What gives?”
“You’re experiencing your fifteen minutes of fame. The papers want to interview you. Mind if I give you a suggestion?” the other woman asked.
“I’m all ears,” Amy said, wanting any help she could get.
Kelly leaned closer, her bangs falling over her eyes as she leaned in, and whispered, “Ignore them.”
Amy blinked. “That’s it? That’s the magic formula?”
“That and praying for some other athlete to make a scene or screw up so he replaces you and Roper in the headlines.” Kelly nodded sagely.
“Got it. Speaking of Roper, did he—”
“Leave a message? Yes, he did. Here.” She handed Amy a white envelope with her name written on the front. “He was waiting patiently until he got an urgent phone call. Then he asked for paper to leave you a note and rushed out.” Apparently, her new secretary was the epitome of efficiency.
Amy was grateful something was going right today. “Thank you, Kelly.”
“That’s my job. Oh, you have a lunch date at 1:00 p.m. today at Sparks. It’s a steak house on Forty-Sixth between Second and Third. Since that’s prime lunch hour and we’re farther uptown, you might want to give yourself some time to get there. Would you prefer cab, car or subway?” Kelly asked, pen in hand, ready to tackle anything.
Florida girl that she was, Amy wasn’t ready to take on the NYC subway system just yet. “I’ll just go down and grab a cab.”
Kelly rolled her pen between her palms. “No, never mind, that won’t work. You might not get one at that hour. I’ll make sure a car is waiting.” She placed her hand on the phone, obviously ready to do just that.
“It seems like an extravagance to take a car for lunch,” Amy said.
“We bill it to the client. It’s fine, really. SOP,” Kelly said.
“SOP?”
“Standard operating procedure.”
Amy smiled. “Got it. It looks as if you have everything covered, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” Kelly glanced up at her, surprised.
“Who am I meeting for lunch?”
Kelly tapped her head with her hands. “I didn’t mention that? Roper. It’s all in the note he left. Since he couldn’t have his business meeting with you due to a family emergency, he said he wanted to take you for lunch and do it there.”
“Aah.” Family emergency. Amy glanced at her watch. At 11:00 a.m. in the morning. Apparently, Roper needed her even more than she realized.
“Take a paper and pen to lunch,” Kelly said. “Make notes so you don’t forget anything. Not that I’m suggesting you’re forgetful, but if it were me having a business lunch with that perfect specimen, I’m sure I wouldn’t remember anything he said. And I’m pretty on-the-ball,” Kelly said, laughing.
Amy grinned. “That you are, and something tells me I’m going to need your expertise during this transition period.”
“Did anyone tell you that Rachel, the other publicist I work for, is out on maternity leave? I’m all yours for the next three months.”
And Kelly seemed eager to help, for which Amy was grateful. “That’s even more good news.”
“Do you need me to join you at lunch?” Kelly asked hopefully. “I could hold Roper’s hand. I mean, I could hold your hand.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief and Amy chuckled.
“I think I can handle it,” Amy said.
Those words were becoming her mantra.
“You’re definitely lucky. The man is one hot property,” Kelly said, returning her focus to her ringing phone.
Amy remembered his lips on hers and merely nodded in agreement. Hot property. Yep, Roper was definitely that and more. Keeping her mind on business during lunch was going to be very difficult.
* * *
Roper arrived at Sparks a few minutes early and the maître d’ led him to his favorite table, a private one in the corner where he and Amy wouldn’t be disturbed by prying eyes. It was bad enough his sister had called crying, begging him to meet her at her apartment. She’d been beyond upset. He couldn’t understand the reason for her hysteria, but he’d scrawled an apology note for Amy all the same and headed to the SoHo loft she shared with her fiancé, Kevin. There he discovered the breakdown had been caused by a distraught message from their mother, threatening to come to New York and take over the wedding plans if Sabrina didn’t start returning her calls.
Roper could understand his sister not wanting their mother in control of her life. Even more, he could relate to Sabrina’s fear of having Her Highness show up on their doorstep. Roper adored his mother, but he loved the fact that she lived in L.A. even more. She still managed to do her share of driving him crazy, but at least it was from a distance. Still, as much as he understood Sabrina’s feelings, he wished she’d called Kevin home from work for sympathy instead of him.
She’d pulled him away from Amy. Roper hadn’t known Amy was working at the Hot Zone. In fact, the more he thought about his night with her, the more he realized he’d been the one to reveal things about his family and his life while she’d listened, not giving away much about herself at all.
He was glad. For one thing, she remained a mystery he could unravel at his leisure. For another, if he’d known she would end up in his life in such a big way, he’d probably have had second thoughts about getting involved. This way, he was already hooked and he wanted her too much to back out now.
He owed his best friend for assigning Amy as his handler, although he hadn’t thought he really needed one. Then again, he did need someone to organize his life, lightening his load so he could concentrate on recovering enough to make it to spring training in February. Micki had made the right call by assigning him Amy. A win-win situation, just the way he liked it.
Not knowing whether she liked red wine or white, he decided on champagne. He thought twice about splurging on Dom Pérignon, then decided his bank account could take the hit. Amy was worth it. The champagne on ice was waiting for her when she joined him at the table.
He wasn’t surprised, when his iPhone rang, to find his mother was on the other end. “Good morning,” he said, refusing to let his good mood dissipate.
“Hi, darling, how are you?”
“Not bad, considering I spent the morning calming Sabrina down. Do you think you could let her plan her own wedding?” He didn’t hold out much hope he’d get through to her, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
“What daughter doesn’t really want her mother involved in the most important day of her life?” his mother asked.
He leaned back in his seat. “She wants you involved, not taking over.”
“I’m just making helpful suggestions.” She sniffed. “It’s my only daughter’s wedding. Can’t you just talk to her and explain I love her and want what’s best?”
“What’s best is what makes Sabrina and Kevin happy.” He looked up and saw Amy at the front of the restaurant, handing her coat to the check girl. “I have to go, my lunch date’s here.”
“Not that crazy agent of yours?” his mother asked.
She’d met Yank on one of her trips to the city. There’d never been two different people placed on this planet, he thought, laughing. “No, with Amy Stone.”
“Your Page Six girl!”
He winced. “I didn’t know you read the New York Post in L.A.”
Her light laugh traveled through the phone line. “Darling, you rushed me off the phone New Year’s Eve and Ben sent me the Post. I put two and two together. You should have told me you were in a new relationship. Where are you taking her?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes and raised a hand, waving at Amy as she approached. “I’m at Sparks. On business. Bye, Mom. Love you.” He put his iPhone away and rose to greet Amy.
“Hi, there,” he said, taking in her business attire and trying not to drool at the sight.
She wore a cream-colored pantsuit that accentuated her tanned skin, and though she’d clipped her hair back, soft curls framed her face, giving her a tailored yet sexy look. Micki had mentioned that Annabelle had taken Amy shopping for a New York work wardrobe and he applauded both women’s taste. On Amy, the pantsuit looked feminine, especially when paired with pointy-toed shoes peeking out beneath the hem of the slacks. Beneath the tailored suit jacket, instead of a blouse she wore a V-necked three-button vest cut low enough to tempt and dazzle, but covered enough to be appropriate for work. Business casual and chic—Amy had made the transition from Florida native to New Yorker in no time.
And even dressed for the office, she managed to turn him on.