Hot Property (Hot Zone 4)

“They need to go through the computer. Since I had a key, they aren’t going to press charges against me for taking it. And I don’t understand any of the legalities, you know, like whether or not they can use it as evidence. But they’ll see what they find on it and go from there.”

Roper drew a calming breath. He glanced at Ben and tried to see the baby brother he’d always loved. “We’ll have to do the same.” Roper walked over to his brother and threw an arm around his shoulder. “We go on from here,” Roper said.

Ben inclined his head, meeting Roper’s gaze. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing. We’re family and—”

“Hey, isn’t that Amy?” Ben asked, jerking a finger toward the TV.

Roper glanced up, took one look at Amy in the pantsuit she’d worn the day they’d met at Sparks Steak House, and he grabbed the remote control to raise the volume.

He lowered himself onto the couch and watched her, interviewed in the comfort of her own living room by none other than Buckley the Bastard, himself.

“I thought it would be entertaining for my listeners to hear about a day in the life of John Roper from the woman in charge of handling his affairs for the past month,” Buckley said.

“You do have a way with words,” Amy said, shaking her head and laughing. Her curls fell over her shoulder in sensual disarray as she flirted with Buckley.

Roper couldn’t believe his eyes.

“She’s playing him,” Ben said, easing himself back on the couch beside Roper.

“But I appreciate the chance to tell my story,” Amy said.

“She’d better be playing him and not exposing my life for public consumption.” Or his fears and insecurities to a world that already thought he was a washed-up loser. In a few weeks he’d prove them all wrong.

“Relax, man,” Ben said. “I know a con when I see one. Buckley’s so happy to have her talking, he doesn’t realize she’s the one using him.”

“So the pictures that recently surfaced were doctored?” Buckley asked.

“That’s right,” Amy said with certainty. She didn’t even flinch at the subject.

“Can you prove it?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Rumor has it the police have a lead.” Buckley leaned in close.

Amy shrugged delicately. “I haven’t heard anything about that.”

Roper glanced at his brother. “You stole that laptop. Aren’t you worried?”

“No. In all likelihood, the police can’t use the evidence against Dave. But at least I’ll have planted doubt in the public’s mind about those pictures. It’s the best I can do.”

Roper nodded.

He listened as Buckley questioned Amy about Roper, his habits, his dedication, his talent, trying to trip her up or get her to admit that Roper was more of a player than a dedicated athlete. He failed. Not once did Amy speak in terms other than respectful and in a way that built him up in the public eye.

She was every inch his publicist.

She was every inch the woman he loved.

“I was hoping for some juicier information when I set up this interview,” Buckley said. “So far you haven’t given up anything.”

“I’m a publicist. My job is to be behind the camera, not in front of it.”

“Yet you’re here. You agreed to talk with me.”

“Technically, you conned two elderly women into letting you come here to dig up dirt on John Roper. Isn’t that the truth?” Amy asked.