Obviously this was a vintage performance by his mother.
“Please ask if Chef Gordon Ramsay is in town. If so, invite him to dinner. We’re old friends,” she said, as if Amy were her assistant.
Amy accepted the direction with a nod, and his mother continued to instruct Amy on her likes and preferences. She wished she had her pen and paper ready.
“When you call, you may tell them who I am, but put the reservation under John’s name and ask them not to let anyone know I’m there.”
Amy nodded. Another celebrity quirk she assumed. One that would get Cassandra Lee the perks due her by virtue of her name but assure her some privacy at the same time.
Desiring anonymity with the media was something Amy could understand. “No problem. Anything else?”
Cassandra shook her head. “No, I’ll talk to them when I arrive and make sure I have what I need, but thank you. You’re a doll.”
Roper squeezed Amy’s forearm lightly, which she took as a show of appreciation.
A few phone calls and no less than three interruptions later, Amy had arranged for a Vista Suite that overlooked Central Park with extra-special service to compensate for the fact that the two-bedroom rooms were booked, lucky for Roper. She hired a limousine to pick Cassandra up and drive her over, with a stop at Saks on the way so she could pick up some clothes to tide her over until her suitcases were found.
And thirty minutes after that, Roper’s mother was gone in a flurry of air kisses and promises to call after she’d napped and taken a refreshing bath. It was only 10:00 a.m.
Roper collapsed on the couch in the living room, patting the space beside him.
“Your mother is a living, breathing tornado,” Amy said, flopping down next to him.
“Welcome to my world. Yet you handled her like a pro.” Awe tinged his voice as he tipped his head to one side.
She met his gaze and tried not to read more into the molten stare than gratitude, but it was hard. The problem for Amy was more than attraction. She liked doing things for him. She enjoyed helping him and being successful at it. And she definitely liked it when he looked at her with those bedroom eyes that held promises she just knew he was capable of keeping.
“It’s what I’m paid to do,” she reminded herself, and him. Too bad she wasn’t listening.
“And you did it well.”
She didn’t miss the sudden drop in his tone. The husky sound had her heart skipping a beat.
“Now, about that date…”
The one she’d refused to think about since he’d mentioned it at lunch the day before.
He stretched his arm over the couch, not so subtly reaching her shoulders with his fingertips. She recognized the practiced move for what it was and shot him a knowing look he ignored.
She wished she could do the same with his suggestion they go on a date. “It isn’t a good idea to mix business with pleasure,” she told him.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She grew immediately wary. “You agree with me?”
He nodded. “Of course I do. Business is business. That’s what you did for me this morning and that’s what we’ll discuss in a few minutes. Our date will be personal. We won’t mix the two at all.”
She rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a laugh. “That’s ass-backwards logic.” But a damn good attempt at manipulating her into saying yes, she silently admitted.
He chuckled. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eight?”
“I don’t remember saying yes.”
“I don’t remember you saying no, either. So tell me, what brings you by?” he said as if that settled that.
But switching subjects gave her time to compose herself. She started filling him in on her plan to manage his life, starting with his brother. She informed him of the progress she’d made in getting Ben interviews at various schools in the northeast, leaving Roper to figure out how he’d approach Ben.
Amy then suggested he win Cassandra over to the idea first. Getting his mother on his side would all but ensure Ben’s agreement. But she knew convincing his mother that coaching wasn’t beneath her son was the equivalent of convincing Cassandra that television wasn’t a step down from the big screen. It was a daunting task and they both knew it.