Hot Property (Hot Zone 4)

Roper decided the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off him was a good thing. At least it was mutual. He couldn’t stop staring at her, either. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she’d be good for him. A welcome break from physical therapy for his sprained shoulder and from wondering whether or not he’d return in time for spring training.

“I didn’t come with a date,” he admitted, refocusing on Amy. “Lesson learned the hard way.” Thank God.

She inclined her head. “That’s a start,” she murmured.

“What if I told you I was so taken by you at the wedding that I couldn’t help myself, date or no date?”

She swiped her tongue over her lightly glossed lips. “I’d say you were pushing it and would be better off with just the apology.”

“Even if I was telling the truth?”

“Especially then,” she said, her voice huskier than before.

He stepped closer, so close he could examine each freckle on her nose and cheeks. “Come on, give me another chance. Let’s start fresh.” On impulse, he reached out and ran his finger down the tip of her nose. Skin touched skin and his hand sizzled on contact.

Her eyes widened with awareness, but she didn’t back away.

Pleased, he tipped his head even closer. “So what do you say?”

She bit down on her lower lip, pausing in thought.

The seconds that he waited were the longest of his life.

“For the sake of peace, why not?” she finally said.

He had the second chance he’d sought, he thought with relief. “Can I get you some punch?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’m going to stay away from alcohol. Besides, I should really get—”

A loud bell-like sound clanged, drowning out her voice.

“What’s that?” Amy yelled over the noise.

“Sounds like a fire alarm.”

And he must have been right because the guests, talking loudly among themselves, headed for the front of the off

ices leading to the hallway.

“Let’s get moving,” he said.

“Are you serious? We’re twenty floors up!” Panicked, she grabbed for her heels.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to take off my shoes so I could run downstairs easier!”

He swallowed a laugh, knowing her fear was real. “In my experience, more often than not it’s a false alarm.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Haven’t you ever seen The Towering Inferno?”

He chuckled aloud this time. “It’s a bad seventies movie, not reality. But you have a point. Let’s get going. If the shoes don’t hurt, you can keep them on. We’re not going to be running. Just moving quickly.”

She nodded.

“Shoes on or off?” he asked, talking loudly to compensate for the clanging bell.

“On. The heels aren’t that high. I’ll be fine.”