Hot Property (25 page)

She’d looked to Harrison, expecting him to laugh. Instead he’d nodded thoughtfully and he’d
agreed.
Cassandra had lost it then. Even though she’d played into Harrison’s hands, she’d stood up in the middle of the restaurant, in front of the maître d’ and everyone, and announced there was nobody better to play the role than she.

Harrison had whipped out a contract and she’d
signed.
She’d signed without her agent, without her attorney, on principle and acting in anger. Next thing she knew, Harrison had called his assistant and the news had hit the press.

They’d conned her and she’d allowed herself to be conned.

Suddenly she heard Buckley’s voice loud and clear again. It had turned quiet and she realized Harrison had stopped banging on the door.

“Whew.” She hadn’t thought he’d give in and walk away so easily.

And though it was what she’d wanted, she found herself disappointed in him, anyway. She lowered herself to the couch and five minutes later, the key card sounded in her door and housekeeping let him inside.

“Your room,” the maid with a heavy accent said, smiling shyly up at him before she walked away.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Harrison inside Cassandra’s room.

She jumped up from the couch. “Well, of all the nerve!” she said, striving for her most indignant tone.

He walked forward, toward where she stood by the couch. His masculine, sensual cologne wrapped around her, touching her inside and out.

“Cassie, Cassie. When are you going to stop fighting the inevitable?”

he asked.

He was as handsome now as he’d been back then, while she’d had to endure Botox and Restylane and even a face-lift. She resented it. “I believe I stopped fighting the moment you tricked me into signing that contract.” She fluttered her eyelashes and spoke too sweetly.

He laughed. “If you think you were tricked, sue me.” He grinned but didn’t say one gloating word.

Damn him. At least then she could have snapped right back.

He placed folders on the table by the couch. At least he hadn’t lied about wanting to do business.

“Besides, I’m not talking about you giving in on the role. I’m talking about giving in on us. We’re inevitable.”

Her heart fluttered inside her chest. Perhaps he’d only used business as an excuse to make his way into her room. She feared her heart would be next. “No, we’re not.”

He shook his head in that determined way he had, his jaw clenched.

“I’ve waited long enough for you and I’m not about to walk away now.”

He reached a strong, tanned hand toward her face.

She turned away before she could give in. She was afraid. Afraid of doing as he suggested and ending up as the wife of the most powerful director in Hollywood. He’d turned from movies to television and hadn’t looked back. He wanted her to do the same. Then where would she be?

At his beck and call.

At his mercy.

She’d have no protective barriers left because he understood her better than any man ever had, and he got her to do things she knew weren’t right for her. Or maybe they were exactly what she needed, but she feared losing control of her life—which she’d lived on her own terms for so long. She just didn’t know anymore.

“Why don’t we look at the head shots?” he suggested, backing off personal subjects.

Grateful, Cassandra turned back around and they settled beside each other on the couch. He opened the folder and revealed the next crop of young, beautiful perfection. They sought fame and fortune in Hollywood. She’d been like them once, wide-eyed and innocent, ready to make it big.

She was too old to consider them her competition. Rationally she understood that, but she couldn’t help but be a touch envious that the hardships of life hadn’t touched their youthful faces yet.

“I was thinking…” Harrison paused to flip through the photographs.

“I’ve had so many e-mails and phone calls asking me when I was going to touch on my favorite least-favorite subject, John Roper.”

Buckley’s voice carried through the television, John’s name capturing Cassandra’s attention.

“One minute,” she said to Harrison, and grabbed the remote control to raise the volume.

Buckley adjusted the microphone in front of his face. “It’s been frustrating for me to have no gossip to report on Roper since he unceremoniously disappeared. Or should I say ran away?” the disgruntled man asked.

“His harassment helped drive John underground,” Cassandra said bitterly. At least that was what Yank and Micki told her. That John needed time for himself or else there would be no next season for him.

He needed, they’d said, a break from the media, the fans and, yes, even his family. That remark had hurt.

Maybe because she could understand why he’d need to get away.

Which didn’t mean she wasn’t going to scold him the next time she got her hands on him for a hug. He’d abandoned her to Harrison’s clutches.

“Well, I finally have a big reveal,” Buckley said proudly. “Right after this message from our sponsors.”

“Are you okay?” Harrison asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He understood how she felt about John abandoning her.

She wished he didn’t. She wished he wouldn’t be so kind or make leaning on him so easy.

Cassandra nodded and bit the inside of her cheek.

After a short break, during which neither Harrison nor Cassandra spoke, Buckley returned. “Many have been looking for our friend, John Roper, the Renegades’ highest-paid coward, and
People Magazine
finally got the inside scoop.”

Cassandra leaned in closer, her anticipation rising. Just where was her son?

“Inside this week’s issue is a cell-phone photo taken from the Web site of pop diva Hannah Gregory in the restaurant of the exclusive lodge in Greenlawn, New York, owned by Brandon Vaughn.”

A grainy but clear enough to be recognizable shot of John and the singer with her lips against his cheek showed on the television screen.

Buckley continued. “John Roper isn’t away rehabilitating his shoulder and getting ready for the season. He’s making time with a hot star on the Renegades’ dime. Wonder what happened to Amy Stone. Our boy Roper really gets around.” Buckley cleared his throat. “The phone lines have just lit up like a Christmas tree,” he said, laughing. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I just report the truth, folks. I’ll take calls next.

The Buck Stops Here!”

Cassandra hit the off button on the remote. “Damn the man for being so rude to John,” she said as she rose to her feet. “But thank God he was persistent and found him.”

“Where are you going?” Harrison asked, jumping up to step around her and block her way.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. Men could be so dense. “I am going to see my son!” She darted around him. Now that she knew where John was, she was going to find him.

Ever since Ben and Sabrina’s father had left—and good riddance—

John had stepped up as man of the house. She’d come to rely on him.

He was her rock. And now, when she was bound to Harrison and close to being seduced by him again, she needed her son’s level head to steady her. It was what she was used to in times of crisis. And this was her own personal crisis.

Still, she wasn’t surprised when Harrison hooked his arm through hers and said, “I’m going with you. I’ll call my driver and he’ll meet us downstairs in twenty minutes.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Does that give you enough time to pack?”

She dug her heels into the floor. “Why? Why are you coming with me?” She needed to hear his reasons.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry you need to ask. Because I love you, silly woman. And you need to see your son. Where else would I be?”

Her throat filled. Fear warred with an emotion she didn’t want to name. An emotion, she feared, that was close to love.

“Now, I asked if you have enough time to pack.” He didn’t push her to reciprocate his words, she realized.

“Yes, yes, I do,” she said, grateful for him. She knew that with her behavior, she didn’t deserve him. She needed to get her head on straight or she’d drive him crazy.

She grinned.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll go throw a few things together, too. Don’t even think about leaving without me.”

“I won’t,” she promised, meaning it.

He strode to the door.

“Harrison?” she asked, stopping him.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Thank you.” From the bottom of her heart, Cassandra thought.

ROPER FELT AS IF A SOAP OPERA
was playing around him and he might as well watch the episode until his own reality intruded. Which he figured shouldn’t be too long.

Hannah’s mother had taken a room at the lodge, even though Hannah refused to deal with Big Mama until she accepted her daughter’s relationship with Mike. The drummer, meanwhile, refused to speak to Hannah because she’d gone behind his back and informed her mother of their relationship before he was ready to go public.

He feared for his career, and if Roper’s hunch was right, he also feared for the relationship. Roper felt sorry for all parties involved except for Big Mama, who, true to her name, was larger than life and intrusive to a fault, like some other mothers he knew too well.

Amy had already informed him that Big Mama’s cell-phone photograph had appeared in
People Magazine’
s Web site the day after it had been taken. Big Mama no doubt chose the magazine on purpose, knowing she wouldn’t have to wait a week to get her daughter’s face splashed in the tabloids. As if Hannah’s fans would forget about her in one short month. As if Roper’s hate club would forget him, either. No such luck. The day after
People Magazine’
s exclusive photo was aired, Roper’s nemesis Buckley picked up on the news. Between
People
and Buckley, he figured Cassandra would arrive anytime and destroy his newfound serenity.

Once again, he was the center of attention. In Hannah’s circles the gossip revolved around Hannah Gregory’s top-secret new lover, baseball star John Roper. In Roper’s circles, the dirt speculated that Roper’s priorities were so far out of whack, he cared more about getting laid by a hot young musician than about recuperating.

Put together, Roper had been made to look like a lazy, inconsiderate, cheating pig who didn’t give a rat’s ass about his new girlfriend, Amy Stone, or his lucrative career. Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth.

He nursed a beer in the lobby bar, thinking about what on earth he could do to help diffuse the current situation, but nothing came to mind. Amy, meanwhile, was busy on the phone arranging an exclusive with
Sports Illustrated
to counter the bad press. Roper didn’t give a damn who the media paired him with romantically as long as Amy didn’t believe the hype.

She didn’t.

But from the moment the picture had shown up in
People,
only to be copied on the Internet and the rest of the free world, Amy had withdrawn. She might not believe he was having an affair with Hannah, but Amy had stopped sleeping with him, anyway. And he knew why.

The world had intruded on their private time, making them fodder for public dissection. And she wasn’t having any of it. It didn’t matter how strong their bond was or how well they understood each other.

She was going to let outside forces drive a wedge between them.

Unless he stopped her somehow.

He raised his glass to his lips at the same time his gaze settled on the front entrance, taking in the two people making their way inside.

His mother and Harrison Smith.

Both in full-length fur coats, his mother wearing a matching fur hat on her head, Harrison in a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. Both dressed in a manner guaranteed to attract attention. Lots of it.

Sure enough, the normally low-key staff grouped around the couple, bowing and scraping as if the king and queen of England themselves had arrived. Roper didn’t know if the staff knew who the famous couple was. Harrison and Cassandra probably just looked important enough to warrant extra attention.

Roper finished his drink in one long sip, placed the glass on the bar and rose to greet his mother.

AMY ARRIVED IN THE LOBBY
at the same time Cassandra Lee and Harrison Smith made their entrance. Her success at securing an appointment with
Sports Illustrated
to interview Roper suddenly didn’t feel like such a coup. Instead all she could do was fear that he’d forget the lessons learned at the lodge about putting himself first and revert to the dutiful son who catered to his mother’s every whim.

“Maybe I don’t give him enough credit,” she muttered.

“Give who enough credit?” Roper joined her at the bar entrance.

She hadn’t meant to speak aloud. “No one,” she murmured. “Have they seen you yet?” she asked, tilting her head toward his mother and the director.

He shook his head. “But it’s only a matter of time.”

“John!”

His mother noticed him. “That was quick,” he muttered.

Amy drew in a deep breath and together they headed toward Cassandra, who was waving madly.

Harrison stepped away, having a conversation with the luggage valet.

“Darling!” Cassandra called.

Amy winced at the long-haired fur she wore, which was really noticeable in a day and age it wasn’t considered politically correct.

“It’s so good to see you!” Cassandra came at him with open arms, enveloping him in chinchilla.

“Isn’t this a surprise,” Roper said drolly, once he’d extricated himself and stepped back.

He tried to sound upset with her, but Amy couldn’t help but notice the warmth and affection in his tone despite his mother’s unwanted intrusion.

“You and I have so much to catch up on. I won’t even scold you for dropping off the face of the earth without so much as a word to your own mother.” Cassandra’s pout was actress perfect.

“I think you just did,” Roper said with a grin.

Ignoring the subtle rebuke, Cassandra turned to her companion.

“Harrison,” she called. He stepped back toward her. “Be a dear and see to our rooms. Plural, remember? That means two. Preferably on different floors or opposite ends of the hall if I have no other choice.”