Hot Property (Hot Zone 4)

AN HOUR LATER, AMY AND Roper had showered—together—and redressed, heading down to the coffee shop for something hot to drink. Amy needed to pick up a few personal items in the shop, while Roper went ahead to get a table and put in their order.

Once seated, Roper ordered himself coffee and Amy a hot chocolate, and settled in to wait for her to return. He barely had time to take in the rustic interior when Hannah stopped by.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, and in her usually friendly fashion, didn’t wait for an answer before sliding into the booth beside him.

The waitress place their drinks down.

“Do you want something?” Roper asked Hannah.

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I just was hoping to give you a message for Amy.”

“

If you wait five minutes you can tell her yourself. She’ll be back anytime now.”

The other woman shook her head. “I need to make myself scarce.” She glanced around as if looking for someone. Nervously looking for someone. “Just tell Amy that Big Mama’s here and it isn’t pretty. She’ll understand,” Hannah whispered right into Roper’s ear. “Tell her to use my personal cell to reach me. I need to talk.”

Roper nodded. “Who’s Big Mama?” he asked, obviously too loud for Hannah’s liking, because she smacked her hand right over his mouth.

“Shh. Ask Amy. She’ll explain.”

Women. He would have rolled his eyes but he didn’t want to insult Hannah. “Whatever you say,” he told Hannah.

She smiled. “You’re as great as Amy thinks you are.”

Amy thought he was great? Now, that was something Roper could live with, he thought wryly.

“Thanks, Roper.” Hannah leaned in and placed a grateful kiss on his cheek.

At the same time a small cell-phone camera captured the moment.

Everything that came next happened in a fast-moving blur. A security guard tried to grab the phone, but the woman holding it, an Amazon by anyone’s definition, ducked and ran toward the door.

Hannah yelled and took off after the woman, shrieking for her to come back. By the time security had stopped the female photographer and her phone, Roper had a hunch the photo had already been sent to the highest bidder or whoever was in place ready to receive and run with it.

He didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. He had to do damage control. He groaned and swiped his hands over his eyes. Drawing a deep breath, he reached the door, coming face-to-face with Amy, who appeared stunned by the commotion around them.

“What in the world is going on?” she asked.

He explained the situation as quickly as he could, hoping she’d take it in the spirit in which he relayed the tale. He wasn’t worried about himself. He was worried about Amy and her reaction to photographers. To one catching him with Hannah in what the tabloids would call a “canoodle.” To their idyllic time here being over.

“Typical photographer bullshit,” he said. “Hannah and the security guard went after the woman. Hannah seemed way more upset than I was.” He was so used to the unwanted photographs and the way reporters twisted reality, he could ignore it with the best of them.

And the lighter he made the situation, the lighter Amy would hopefully react. Because as he’d come to realize earlier today, he wasn’t ready to give her up yet. Or for his lifestyle to intrude and yank her away before he’d had a chance to cement the bond building between them.

Amy bit down on her lower lip, obviously upset. “Do you think Hannah was worried that Mike might think the two of you are more than friends? Is that why she was so upset?” Amy asked.

She was worried about Hannah and not them? Typical Amy, caring for others almost to a fault. He assumed the realities of their situation hadn’t hit her yet.

“I’m not sure what had Hannah so crazy, considering she’s as used to the press as I am. But she did have a message for you right before the photographer took that picture.”

Amy raised her eyebrows. “What did she say?”

“She told me to tell you that Big Mama’s here and it isn’t pretty. Or something like that. She wants you to call her on her private cell,” Roper said.

And then he remembered something else. “When Hannah ran screaming after the woman who took the picture, she called her Mama.” He narrowed his gaze. “That big woman photographer was her mother?”

“Sounds like it. They do call her Big Mama. I guess now we know why. Was Hannah okay?” Amy asked.