Hot Property (Hot Zone 4)

“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. Tel

l 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.