Hot Property (24 page)

She caught sight of him and smiled, waving as she joined him. “I can’t believe you sent me all of this!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, her hug of gratitude so warm and genuine, his heart beat even faster in his chest.

“My pleasure.” He held out his hand and she placed hers trustingly in his.

Amy’s reaction to her clothing was the same as another woman might react to diamonds or jewels. A gift from the heart, he thought.

And he refused to ponder deeper.

The snow fell softly as they made their way outside. One glance at Amy in her winter gear had him on fire. It didn’t matter how cold the temperature, nor did it matter that they’d made love last night. Nothing stopped the wanting. Her bright smile and genuine appreciation for the simple things was something he needed. Something he’d been unaware of until she took control.

He trusted her.

She said his family was being taken care of and he believed her.

And thanks to that trust, he sensed a shift in his own outlook on the future, in his devotion to his career and his craft. All because he’d taken a time-out from his life. He no longer fought the guilt, no longer felt the desire to find a phone and check on his mother and sister. His own needs had to come first, and for once he was putting his priorities in order.

“Wow, this is way better than looking at things through the window,” Amy said, bringing him back to the present.

They’d reached the back of the lodge, the place they’d viewed from the solarium where they’d also…He yanked his thoughts away from their first sexual encounter before he tackled her into the snow and had his way with her
here.
She pulled her hand from his and spun in circles, laughing and appreciating the cold winter air and the snow around their ankles. Coming to a stop, she waited while the dizziness wore off, then turned and stared off at the expanse of pure white landscape behind them.

“I can’t believe I missed out on this growing up.” She shook her head, staring in awe.

“Definitely something everyone should experience,” he agreed.

She nodded. Without warning, she took off running—or running as best as she could run while laden down with winter wear.

“Very graceful,” he called out wryly.

She paused and stuck her tongue out at him. Then, laughing, she bent down and picked up a handful of snow, packing it into a ball. “The snow is so much softer than I thought it would be,” she said.

“And harder to keep together. It depends on the kind of snowfall you get, whether or not you can pack a solid snowball,” he explained.

“Ben and I used to build forts and have snowball fights all the time on our Colorado vacations. We’d be outdoors for hours on end.”

Funny, but he hadn’t thought about Ben as his fun-loving little brother in a long, long time. Age had divided them, Roper thought. Age and talent—or lack thereof.

Amy stepped closer. “Hey. What’s on your mind?”

He shrugged. “I’m just thinking about how relationships change.”

And not for the better.

She placed her hand on his shoulder in understanding. “They could change back if you wanted them to. Or at least you could try to reach out to Ben without any expectation and see what happens. Maybe you need to try an approach you haven’t used before. One that doesn’t make him feel as if he’s second-best.”

He met her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed red from the cold, her eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he’d chosen. She looked hot enough to melt the entire field they stood on.

While he was lost in thought, she had trudged through the snow until she was a decent way from him, then she wound up, took aim and threw the snowball, hitting him squarely on the shoulder.

She wiped her hands together, obviously pleased with herself. “Not bad for a rookie.”

He bent down for some snow and packed a weapon of his own.

“You’d better watch out because I’ve had a lot of practice at this,” he warned her.

“Throwing or making snowballs?” she asked as she stepped backward. And back some more.

He grinned and narrowed his gaze. “Both.” He pitched his ball at the same time she took off at an awkward run, so he ended up hitting her squarely in the back.

He took off after her, catching up in no time. He tackled her to the ground, bringing both of them onto the soft but thick snow. He rolled her onto her back to discover she was laughing. Having fun. Doing exactly what he’d wanted for her when he’d purchased all this winter apparel.

She gazed up at him, smiling.

His heart swelled even bigger. He cleared his throat. “Hey. Do you want to make your snow angel before you get too cold to stay out here much longer? After all, your blood is much thinner than mine, what with you being from down South and all.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. You northerners and your pasty skin, you make a pretty pathetic sight if you ask me.”

He shook his head and laughed. He liked teasing her because she took it so well. “Pasty skin, huh? You say
that
like I’m unattractive and don’t turn you on. Don’t forget I have seen, felt and tasted some pretty distinct evidence to the contrary.” With each word he spoke, he leaned closer, until his lips pressed down hard on hers.

Warmth surged through him, licking at him like flames on logs in a fireplace. She opened her mouth, letting him slip his tongue inside to delve deep and swirl around and around, devouring her because he couldn’t get enough. Making him wonder if he ever would.

By the time they broke apart, panting and out of breath, he was ready to curse the confining clothing.

But she wasn’t finished playing in the snow. She gave him a playful shove so he fell onto his back, carving out more room for herself. She lay down on her back and began to swipe her arms and legs in broad strokes, creating the snow angel she’d talked about earlier.

He watched her, realizing she was his angel. And despite how much time they’d spent together here, he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet.

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.

“Last time I saw her she was running after her mother, so I’m really not sure.”

“Do you think anyone retrieved the camera before the picture was sent?” As she spoke, Amy was pulling out her BlackBerry from her purse.

Funny how, now, she was the one in contact mode. Or maybe it wasn’t so hysterical after all, Roper thought. “You do realize it doesn’t matter whether or not the photo was retrieved before it was sent,” he said.

Amy’s eyes, which he’d grown used to seeing full of laughter and delight, now dimmed. “I know. Big Mama knows where her daughter is and that she’s been with you. It won’t be long before the world knows it, too.”

Her voice dropped along with the light mood he’d been savoring for days. They were both keenly aware of the fact that their idyllic time together was at an end.

CASSANDRA PACED THE FLOOR
of her hotel room in bare feet. The rooms had been renovated and hardwood floors replaced what had once been plush carpet. She appreciated the chic modern look, but the last thing she needed or wanted was for her next-door neighbor to hear her and know she was back in her room. She still didn’t know who Harrison had bribed to place him in the suite next to hers, but if she ever found out, she’d make sure that person was fired.

She marched to the window and back, her silk loungewear sweeping the floors. At this rate she could save the hotel money on vacuuming and dusting. A glance at the iHome clock radio/stereo on the shelf told her that it was time for Buckley’s show.

Since her son’s sudden departure, she’d taken to listening to Buckley the Bastard, hoping he’d hear about Roper’s whereabouts before she did. He had spies everywhere. But since Roper and Amy had been gone, all Buckley had done was call John a coward for leaving town. The man was all about name-calling. Yet he was persistent, and somehow, someway, he’d find out where her son had gone.

And she’d be listening when he revealed all. She flipped on the cable station that broadcast his radio show simultaneously.

The man droned on about hockey and she sighed.

A knock sounded at her door. She assumed it was Harrison and she sat quietly, hoping he’d go away. He knocked again.

“I died and went to heaven,” she called out to the person on the other side of the door. Her stomach flipped like a schoolgirl’s. Like the schoolgirl she’d once been the last time they were together, when she’d been head over heels in love with him.

She’d been in love since, but she’d never had the depth of feeling she’d had—
still
had—for Harrison. But those feelings scared her because he was as strong a personality as she was. And she’d been on her own for so long, she feared his ability to twist her to his whim would cause her to lose herself. And even if his whim suited hers, she didn’t want him to know he was in control. In essence, her feelings for him and the influence he wielded over her, scared her.

“You’d be in heaven if you’d just let me in,” he yelled back, his voice deep through the closed door. “We have business to discuss. I have some head shots of actors and actresses I want to screen-test for the show.”

Business or not, she didn’t want to be alone with him. “I’m sleeping,” she called back.

“You signed the contract, Cassie. You’re in this project. Working with me. So open the door.” He banged harder.

She cringed and hoped the guests in the neighboring rooms didn’t call and report them.

Yes, she’d signed the contract. She’d been tricked. She just wasn’t sure who’d done it. One minute she’d been having lunch with Yank Morgan and Harrison, who’d insisted on coming along. She’d been certain she could charm John’s whereabouts out of Yank. The next minute the subject changed from her son to the TV series and Cassandra’s resistance to the project. Yank had declared he had the perfect replacement for Cassandra. An unknown. A woman who’d never acted a day in her life. He’d suggested Lola, his wife, a lovely although plain woman, who couldn’t hold a candle to Cassandra, not in her heyday, and not now.