“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.