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Authors: Carly Phillips
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anyway. She couldn’t help but feel people were looking at her—and him—and staring.
Because John was famous in this city and was certainly well known in his own apartment building, Amy figured it wasn’t her imagination, nor was she being paranoid. By the time the elevator came to a halt on the ground level, she practically ran toward the revolving doors.
Roper watched Amy teeter on those silly heels, which made her look both sexy and cute at the same time. He wanted to yell out and tell her they could take his car instead of a cab, but he figured that would call even more attention to her, something she obviously didn’t want.
He could understand her need to escape. She wasn’t used to strangers gawking at her the way he was. Since most women—heck, all the women he’d dated up until now— liked the fact that being with him put them in the spotlight, this was but another facet of her personality that made Amy unique. And special.
Ironically he was more convinced than ever that he’d done the right thing by not having sex with her last night. Now she would appreciate his sense of decency. No matter how hard it had been and how much sleep it had cost him.
Instead of following her through the revolving doors, he hit the handicapped automatic door and caught up with her outside on the sidewalk.
Just in time for the paparazzi to greet them with flashing lightbulbs and microphones shoved into their faces.
ROPER FENDED OFF THE vultures by answering their questions about who had spent the night in his apartment with deliberately chatty nonanswers, giving Amy time to escape.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her flag and get into a yellow cab before the press could stop her. He still held on to her clothes but decided not to worry about that now. No matter how hard he prodded, nobody in the group of reporters was willing to divulge their source or tell him why they’d chosen this morning to stake him out. It made no sense. Despite his recent notoriety, he was small-time news for a New Year’s Day morning.
Eventually he returned to his apartment, which felt emptier somehow without Amy in it, and he spent the day watching Bowl games with some teammates who showed up uninvited. He was grateful for the company and even ordered pizza as a show of goodwill. He might have cooked to impress Amy, but the guys could damn well eat takeout.
He called her to apologize and to make sure she’d gotten home okay, but her voice recording picked up. He didn’t know whether she was deliberately not answering the phone or if she had plans for the day. He left a message along with his number.
She never returned his call, which left him feeling surprisingly bummed out.
He awoke the next day, a Tuesday, feeling as if he’d never slept at all. Not a good sign. He’d hoped the coming year would be kinder than the last.
He had a meeting with Micki scheduled at the Hot Zone offices that morning—at her request. He figured he could pump her for information about Amy then. Roper hadn’t wanted to bother her yesterday, because he knew how rare her time with her husband and daughter actually was. After his New Year’s Day incident with the press, Roper could understand the appeal of solitude.
“Maybe I ought to buy myself an island,” he muttered. “Oh, that’s right, I can’t. I’m frigging cash poor and tapped out.” Okay, he knew that was an exaggeration.
He’d made damn good investments with his money and had prepared for the future from day one of his first big contract. He never wanted to be one of those athletes who pissed away their money and were left with nothing to show for it after their successful career was over. But his family was spending cash like water and he was the spout.
He had no choice but to keep an eye on things—in case his career ended sooner than planned. He rubbed his shoulder and hoped the rehab and physical therapy would do the trick.
He finished his cappuccino, brewed in a
Because John was famous in this city and was certainly well known in his own apartment building, Amy figured it wasn’t her imagination, nor was she being paranoid. By the time the elevator came to a halt on the ground level, she practically ran toward the revolving doors.
Roper watched Amy teeter on those silly heels, which made her look both sexy and cute at the same time. He wanted to yell out and tell her they could take his car instead of a cab, but he figured that would call even more attention to her, something she obviously didn’t want.
He could understand her need to escape. She wasn’t used to strangers gawking at her the way he was. Since most women—heck, all the women he’d dated up until now— liked the fact that being with him put them in the spotlight, this was but another facet of her personality that made Amy unique. And special.
Ironically he was more convinced than ever that he’d done the right thing by not having sex with her last night. Now she would appreciate his sense of decency. No matter how hard it had been and how much sleep it had cost him.
Instead of following her through the revolving doors, he hit the handicapped automatic door and caught up with her outside on the sidewalk.
Just in time for the paparazzi to greet them with flashing lightbulbs and microphones shoved into their faces.
ROPER FENDED OFF THE vultures by answering their questions about who had spent the night in his apartment with deliberately chatty nonanswers, giving Amy time to escape.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her flag and get into a yellow cab before the press could stop her. He still held on to her clothes but decided not to worry about that now. No matter how hard he prodded, nobody in the group of reporters was willing to divulge their source or tell him why they’d chosen this morning to stake him out. It made no sense. Despite his recent notoriety, he was small-time news for a New Year’s Day morning.
Eventually he returned to his apartment, which felt emptier somehow without Amy in it, and he spent the day watching Bowl games with some teammates who showed up uninvited. He was grateful for the company and even ordered pizza as a show of goodwill. He might have cooked to impress Amy, but the guys could damn well eat takeout.
He called her to apologize and to make sure she’d gotten home okay, but her voice recording picked up. He didn’t know whether she was deliberately not answering the phone or if she had plans for the day. He left a message along with his number.
She never returned his call, which left him feeling surprisingly bummed out.
He awoke the next day, a Tuesday, feeling as if he’d never slept at all. Not a good sign. He’d hoped the coming year would be kinder than the last.
He had a meeting with Micki scheduled at the Hot Zone offices that morning—at her request. He figured he could pump her for information about Amy then. Roper hadn’t wanted to bother her yesterday, because he knew how rare her time with her husband and daughter actually was. After his New Year’s Day incident with the press, Roper could understand the appeal of solitude.
“Maybe I ought to buy myself an island,” he muttered. “Oh, that’s right, I can’t. I’m frigging cash poor and tapped out.” Okay, he knew that was an exaggeration.
He’d made damn good investments with his money and had prepared for the future from day one of his first big contract. He never wanted to be one of those athletes who pissed away their money and were left with nothing to show for it after their successful career was over. But his family was spending cash like water and he was the spout.
He had no choice but to keep an eye on things—in case his career ended sooner than planned. He rubbed his shoulder and hoped the rehab and physical therapy would do the trick.
He finished his cappuccino, brewed in a
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