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.