Hot Property (Hot Zone 4)

He grabbed his keys from the bowl by the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He narrowed his gaze. “Where do you think? I’m taking you home.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. It’s broad daylight now.”

“And I’ll feel better knowing that your doorman is willing to let you inside the apartment without your key.” His tone left no room for argument. Neither did the fact that he picked up a garment bag in which he’d obviously hung her outfit. He handed her shoes to her and waited while she slipped them on.

“I feel silly,” she muttered as she followed him into the hall.

“Adorable,” he corrected her. Placing one hand on her back, he led her to the elevator. A moment later, the door opened and they stepped inside.

People joined them at various floors, leaving no time for conversation, and Amy was relieved. She tried not to feel as if she was sneaking out of a man’s apartment in last night’s clothes, but she wasn’t a pro at this. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t slept with him, she was embarrassed, anyway. She couldn’t help but feel people were looking at her—and him—and staring.

Because John was famous in this city and was certainly well known in his own apartment building, Amy figured it wasn’t her imagination, nor was she being paranoid. By the time the elevator came to a halt on the ground level, she practically ran toward the revolving doors.

Roper watched Amy teeter on those silly heels, which made her look both sexy and cute at the same time. He wanted to yell out and tell her they could take his car instead of a cab, but he figured that would call even more attention to her, something she obviously didn’t want.

He could understand her need to escape. She wasn’t used to strangers gawking at her the way he was. Since most women—heck, all the women he’d dated up until now—liked the fact that being with him put them in the spotlight, this was but another facet of her personality that made Amy unique. And special.

Ironically he was more convinced than ever that he’d done the right thing by not having sex with her last night. Now she would appreciate his sense of decency. No matter how hard it had been and how much sleep it had cost him.

Instead of following her through the revolving doors, he hit the handicapped automatic door and caught up with her outside on the sidewalk.

Just in time for the paparazzi to greet them with flashing lightbulbs and microphones shoved into their faces.

ROPER FENDED OFF THE vultures by answering their questions about who had spent the night in his apartment with deliberately chatty nonanswers, giving Amy time to escape.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her flag and get into a yellow cab before the press could stop her. He still held on to her clothes but decided not to worry about that now. No matter how hard he prodded, nobody in the group of reporters was willing to divulge their source or tell him why they’d chosen this morning to stake him out. It made no sense. Despite his recent notoriety, he was small-time news for a New Year’s Day morning.

Eventually he returned to his apartment, which felt emptier somehow without Amy in it, and he spent the day watching Bowl games with some teammates who showed up uninvited. He was grateful for the company and even ordered pizza as a show of goodwill. He might have cooked to impress Amy, but the guys could damn well eat takeout.

He called her to apologize and to make sure she’d gotten home okay, but her voice recording picked up. He didn’t know whether she was deliberately not answering the phone or if she had plans for the day. He left a message along with his number.

She never returned his call, which left him feeling surprisingly bummed out.

He awoke the next day, a Tuesday, feeling as if he’d never slept at all. Not a good sign. He’d hoped the coming year would be kinder than the last.

He had a meeting with Micki scheduled at the Hot Zone offices that morning—at her request. He figured he could pump her for information about Amy then. Roper hadn’t wanted to bother her yesterday, because he knew how rare her time with her husband and daughter actually was. After his New Year’s Day incident with the press, Roper could understand the appeal of solitude.

“Maybe I ought to buy myself an island,” he muttered. “Oh, that’s right, I can’t. I’m frigging cash poor and tapped out.” Okay, he knew that was an exaggeration.

He’d made damn good investments with his money and had prepared for the future from day one of his first big contract. He never wanted to be one of those athletes who pissed away their money and were left with nothing to show for it after their successful career was over. But his family was spending cash like water and he was the spout. He had no choice but to keep an eye on things—in case his career ended sooner than planned. He rubbed his shoulder and hoped the rehab and physical therapy would do the trick.

He finished his cappuccino, brewed in a state-of-the-art machine he’d bought last year, and decided he couldn’t wait to meet with Micki later this morning. He picked up his cell phone, needing to talk to his best friend now.

Roper wanted nothing more than some basic information on how to win Amy over. Who better than Micki, who’d rented Amy her apartment, to fill him in?

Roper already figured a girl like Amy might be intimidated by his status and celebrity. Last night he’d questioned the wisdom of getting involved with her once he’d discovered she was living and working in New York. One evening in her company had shown him how different she was from the other women he’d dated. He could no longer just walk away. He was determined to show her he was worth the hassle that came along with him, because he realized they could have a good time together.

And Roper believed in good times. Man, he could use some….

THE WOMAN LOOKED SPOOKED, he thought, watching as she ducked into the nearest cab, running from the paparazzi he’d notified. She wore sweats, a sweatshirt and high heels. A ridiculous combination, he thought. Just as ridiculous as the fact that her outfit from last night still dangled from Roper’s hands. He snickered. It’s about time Roper looked ridiculous.

He intended to make sure the media continued to know where Roper was and when, keeping him in the news, maintaining the negative press.

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he turned and walked down the street, away from the luxury building. He had no doubt the swarm of paparazzi would continue to circle and create trouble for John Roper.