He nodded. “You’re astute.”

“I just remembered what you told me the other night. Where does he live?”

“Nowhere permanent. Right now he’s staying with a friend not too far from here.”

“So all three of you are in the city.”

He nodded. “We love our mother, but distance seems to work best for all of us,” he said, laughing.

“Speaking of your mother, I suppose she’s going to call next?” she asked.

He groaned. “Probably, but I’d rather not think about her right now. So back to New Year’s…I’m sorry for the press showing up like that. If I’d known, I’d have taken you out the back or used my car so they never would have gotten a shot of you in the first place.”

“Apparently I need to get used to the New York media. According to the rest of the office, the articles about us did you a favor by directing everybody’s attention to your personal life instead of your career.” She raised an eyebrow, curious about his view on their joint minutes of fame.

He burst out laughing, a response she didn’t expect.

“That’s rich,” he said. “Eight months ago, those same Hot Zone people wanted my personal life out of the papers. Now they’re applauding the coverage.” Without warning, he reached over and placed his hand over hers.

The heat was immediate and intense.

“But you don’t deserve the publicity.” His voice grew low and husky. “So I am sorry.”

“I thought, as a publicist, I’d be remaining behind the scenes. But it’s fine. Really.” She waved away his apology, trying to act in control and, oh, so nonchalant over the incident, which at the moment affected her less than the man himself.

Ever since their first meeting, it didn’t take more than a touch to remind her of how easily he could seduce her with a look, a glance or a simple gesture. She’d never had such an immediate connection with a man before and she didn’t know how to ignore the sparks that sizzled between them now.

“Okay, then, it looks as if once again we’re starting over,” he said, pleased. He lifted his hand off of hers and raised his glass.

Relieved he wasn’t touching her anymore and disappointed at the same time, she lifted her glass.

“To us,” he said simply.

Unable and unwilling to argue, she repeated his words. “To us.”

She took a polite sip and placed the champagne back on the table. They looked through the menu, then listened to the daily specials. She ordered a mixed green salad and rainbow trout, he chose oysters on the half shell and prime sirloin steak.

She studied him as he spoke to the waiter. Roper was a man comfortable in his own skin and too handsome in his tan-and-white-striped dress shirt, opened at the throat. He might be suffering personally and professionally, but he hid it well. She guessed his years of dealing with the press had given him a thick skin. Personally, she’d never had one herself. She wasn’t surprised he’d ordered steak and opted not to read too much into his choice of appetizer, assuring herself it was only her mind that was on aphrodisiacs and sex, not his.

After the waiter walked away, she folded her hands and decided to hit on the reason for their lunch. “I understand you need my services to clear out the clutter in your life so that you can better focus on your career.”

He tipped his head and nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Micki had told her she’d be his handler, but somehow she didn’t think he’d appreciate the term, which implied he needed babying. “Well, you’ll be happy to know I’ve given your situation some thought already.”

It helped that she’d spent New Year’s with him and seen his family dynamics firsthand. The phone calls today had merely cemented her earlier impression. Taking her secretary’s advice, she pulled a notepad and pen from her large handbag. “Let’s start by listing the things or people in your life causing you to get sidetracked. If we tackle and eliminate them one by one, that will leave your mind clear for baseball.”

Roper raised an eyebrow, amused by her suggestion. “You think you can take on my family and eliminate their issues?”

“If they’re the sole source of your distraction, I know I can.” Her eyes were on fire with determination.

He pictured Amy, petite in stature but not personality, dealing with his larger-than-life, never-take-no-for-an-answer mother, and he glanced heavenward for strength.

“You start talking. Tell me more about each family member and their main problem, why they need your attention constantly each day. I’ll take notes and put together a plan.” She raised her pen, ready to write.

No sooner had he chuckled than his cell phone vibrated once more. He glanced at the number, shot Amy a you-were-right look, and felt more certain than ever that not only was Amy outnumbered, but she’d be outmaneuvered in a matter of days.

He spoke quickly, then disconnected the call.

“Third call in…” She looked at her watch. “Ten minutes. No wonder you can’t find time to get healthy. You’re mentally and physically drained by the forces around you.”

“Force is a good word to describe my mother,” he mused.

She held out her hand. “Give it over.”

“What?” He hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.

“Hand the cell phone over. And the BlackBerry.”

“It’s a Treo and you may not have either one,” he said, shocked by her gall.

She withdrew her hand. “Fine. Then shut them off. Vibrate’s not cutting it. You’re at a business lunch and common courtesy dictates you keep your mind on business.”

He grinned, finally getting it. “Aah, it’s my attention you want,” he said in a cocky tone. “I can assure you that even if I answer the phone, my thoughts are solely on you, babe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you forget why we’re here? To organize your life. To make sure you learn how to compartmentalize and make baseball your priority again. So it’s your choice. Shut them off or hand them over,” she insisted, not backing down.

Roper glanced at Amy’s fiery brown eyes and determined expression and realized she was deadly serious. Who knew the woman was a ballbuster?

Who knew he’d like that in a woman?

The last female who’d demanded that he put her first had been pushing for a ring. And since he’d been as interested in a commitment with her as he’d been in the blond highlights his hairdresser had been trying to talk him into, he’d bought her a diamond bracelet goodbye gift and broken things off.

“Well? Choose one or I’m walking away from this assignment.” And in case he wasn’t sure she meant business, she turned and reached for her purse hanging from the back of her chair.

Damn, she was cute when she was being bossy.

He shocked himself by turning both his phone and Treo off, pushing them to the side of the table and focusing completely, solely on her. “I’m all yours.”

“Good. That’s how it should be.” She swallowed hard, obviously not as at ease around him as she wanted him to believe.

Their attraction was something neither could ignore. He could let her have the upper hand when it came to their professional relationship, but he had no doubt that sexually, he was in control.

And he intended to make use of the upper hand. When the time was right.

“Let’s hear your game plan.”

The waitress served their appetizers, and while they ate, she outlined her goals. “You have three family members pulling you at all hours of the day. You need to set limits. But first, let’s tackle each one of them. Your mother. What is the main reason she’s been calling you?” Amy asked. She put a forkful of salad into her mouth, then licked a crumble of blue cheese off her bottom lip with her tongue, wreaking havoc with his attention.

He stared at her moist lips, moving as she delicately chewed her food.

She met his gaze. Obviously embarrassed, she cleared her throat. “Your mother?” she reminded him.

“Right.” He paused to suck an oyster from its shell. The food might be considered an aphrodisiac, but Amy supplied all the arousal power he needed. “Other than asking me to lend Ben money?” Which he was sure she would have done again on the phone today if he’d given her more time. “My mother needs a job of her own. Her lifestyle is killing my bank account. And she’s bored. She misses acting, not that she’s willing to admit as much.”

“Hollywood won’t hire her because of all the roles she already turned down over the years?” Amy guessed.

He laughed. “Hell, no. Harrison Smith-he’s a big-time director-sent her a script for a television pilot over three months ago that was tailor-made for her. He even offered her more money than she deserves at this point in her career.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “She said no, but apparently he’s waiting for her to change her mind. For some reason, the man only wants Cassandra Lee for the role and has been pursuing her relentlessly.”

Amy nodded in understanding. “That’s because she’s good,” Amy said. “What will it take to convince her?”

He shrugged. “She won’t change her mind. First, she thinks television is beneath her. But more important, my mother refuses to play the role of a grandmother, no matter how elegant, dignified or perfect the role may be. She thinks spending thousands in plastic surgery and Botox justify her desire to be cast as an ingenue.” He shook his head in disgust and frustration. “Sad thing is, she’s been saying it to herself for so long, she believes it.”

He glanced at Amy, looking for a glimmer of understanding. Heaven only knew why he needed it from her when he’d never wanted it from anyone else. At least she was too busy jotting down notes to realize.

“So tell me more about your brother.”

The busboy had cleared their plates, and the waitress set their lunches in front of them. Talking about his family had killed his appetite. “Ben needs a job and a life.”

“I’ve been there,” she said with more compassion than he’d afforded his brother lately. “I lived at home for so long it became too comfortable. Maybe that’s what’s going on with Ben. He just needs the right incentive to get him moving again.”

Roper had thought the same thing.

“Does he have any job options? I don’t mean investments, but legitimate employment opportunities that you know of?”

Roper took a long sip of water. “His head is so far in the clouds, he wouldn’t know an opportunity if it was handed to him. I’ve offered to make some calls and see if there are any openings as a high school baseball coach in a decent community. He’s good enough to teach, he just wasn’t solid enough to play pro. Ben won’t even consider it.”

“When he runs out of money, he’ll have no choice. Why don’t you give me some leads and I’ll see what I can come up with for him.”

Roper raised an eyebrow.

“It’s my job, remember. Come on.”

He rattled off some old ball players he knew were into coaching who might be able to use a guy like Ben. Although he loved his brother, it rankled to have to call in favors knowing Ben wouldn’t appreciate the effort and would probably turn down any opportunity Roper uncovered because he felt he deserved better.

“Just be prepared. Ben won’t make it easy. He’ll play the guilt card because I had the father with the talent, while his dad had none. He likes living on pipe dreams of what life owes him, instead of what he could actually do to make it on his own.”

Amy jotted down a few more notes. “Delusions of grandeur,” she said without glancing up. Her brows were furrowed in concentration and her lips puckered as she wrote. Lips he still wanted to kiss more than he wanted to breathe. But she was working with him now. There would be time.

Neither one of them had eaten much, but he sensed until she finished dissecting his family, she wouldn’t be interested in food.

“Are you ready to talk about Sabrina?” she asked.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Sure am. She’s the easiest one. My little sister is marrying a great guy. A normal accountant. The wedding is planned for next fall, after my season ends. I’m paying for the big day, but that isn’t a problem. I want to pay. She deserves the best. Problem is, she isn’t in charge of her own wedding, our mother is. Or at least she wants to be.”

“Long distance?”

He nodded.

“Sabrina calls me several times a day with another of Mom’s outlandish ideas, things Sabrina doesn’t want but Mom thinks are best. Sabrina wants me to mediate, but frankly, I don’t want to do any more than write the damn check.”

Amy chuckled. “Typical man.”

He grinned. “I tune them out when possible, but if I don’t answer the phone right away, they hunt me down. Don’t get me wrong. I love them but-”

“They need to live their own lives,” Amy finished for him. “But they haven’t had to since you’ve always done everything for them.” A few more notes and Amy finally put her pen down and met his gaze. “Got it all,” she said, then picked up her knife and fork. “God, I’m starving.” She dug into her meal with a gusto he’d never seen in a female.