Carly Phillips - Hot Property

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 cell phone 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 snapped his phone shut 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.

AMY WALKED THROUGH SPARKS, the steak house chosen by Roper for their lunch, and found herself taken in by the old-boy charm of the establishment. She appreciated the decor and she tried to focus on that-on anything except the man watching her intently as she approached.

Roper rose as she came closer and waited until she was seated and they were alone before settling back in. “I’m glad you could join me,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming.

“I’m glad, too.” She placed her napkin on her lap and took a second to cover her stomach with her hand, hoping to ease the butterflies inside, made worse because the car ride had taken longer than it should have. The vice president was in town, roads were closed and gridlock was the word of the day. “I’m sorry I’m late. The traffic was horrendous.”

“Not a problem. It gave me time to relax a little first.” He glanced down and pulled his phone from a holder at his waist. “Excuse me. Phone call.” He answered, had a quick conversation that sounded much like the one she’d heard New Year’s Eve with his mother, before meeting her gaze once more. “Sorry, that was my sister,” he said, placing his phone on the table.

“No problem.” She clasped her hands together, thinking that his family most definitely was his problem.

“Where was I? Oh, yes. I’m glad you’re here and I ordered us champagne.” He inclined his head to the side of the table, and for the first time she noticed the ice bucket and the bottle chilling inside.

Memories of New Year’s Eve rose quickly and vividly in her mind before she could shut them out. But she couldn’t concentrate on business if she was busy remembering how soft and moist his lips had felt on hers or how the intoxicating scent of his cologne had wrapped around her, enveloping her in heat.

She cleared her throat. “It’s a working lunch,” she reminded him, hating that she sounded stiff, but knowing it was necessary.

“And we will work. But first-” he treated her to a sexy smile “-I’d like to toast our new relationship.”

“Relationship?” The word came out more like a squeak.

“Working relationship.” A teasing sparkle lit his gaze. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

She exhaled hard. “I’d love to toast. I just can’t promise to drink.”

“Still recovering from New Year’s?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m over it. I mean-”

“I understand what you meant.” He laughed and leaned forward in his seat. “And if you’d just relax around me, I won’t even ask why you haven’t returned any of my calls.”

Her cheeks grew uncomfortably hot. “I needed to distance my work and my personal relationships.”

“Which I might have understood if you’d called me back and explained. Or if you’d told me you were working at the Hot Zone to begin with.” He gestured to the waiter, who began to unwrap, uncork and pour the champagne.

“The subject of where I was working never came up. But I admit not returning your phone calls was a little cowardly of me. I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry about the reporters and the articles in today’s paper.” His normally easygoing smile disappeared, replaced by obvious regret. “I have no idea how they zeroed in on us after New Year’s and I certainly never thought they’d make us newsworthy. I took a private booth back here, so hopefully we’re safe from prying eyes.”

His cell phone buzzed suddenly, shaking on the table and breaking the connection subtly flowing between them. Although he’d set the phone to vibrate, the intrusion was just as noticeable.

Shooting her an apologetic glance, he picked up the phone. This time, however, his tone was different, brittle even. “Bad time. I’m busy. I’ll call you later.” He disconnected the call and placed the phone back on the table.

She met his gaze. “Your brother.”