Carly Phillips - Hot Property

“I’ve seen them,” he said, his jaw clenched tight. “And I’m going to kill the bastard who doctored them and put them up there.”

“You’ll have to find the person first.”

He inclined his head. “I intend to. But I’m more worried about you.” This composed, sedate woman sitting in front of him wasn’t the Amy he thought he’d find.

He’d figured she’d be angry and fired up. Furious at him just because he was the easiest target.

“I know how you feel about this kind of thing and I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t promise you something like this won’t happen again, but I swear, I’ll do my best to see it doesn’t.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not enough. You are who you are. You’re John Roper, center fielder for the best team in New York. You’re a celebrity, and let’s face it, you love being one. I can’t ask you not to be you.”

Was that a glimmer of deeper understanding he saw? A flicker of hope rose inside him that maybe, just maybe, being in this job, in this city, had taught her to come around. Could that explain the calm aura around her.

“Thank you for that. But you’re you. We can certainly work around both,” he assured her.

He stepped closer, intending to circle around the desk and take her in his arms, but her words stopped him.

“That’s not possible, John, and it’s naive to think it is.” She drew a deep breath. “Being a couple isn’t working for me. The photographers are relentless. Being friends won’t work, either. Even if I were just your assistant, it wouldn’t keep me out of the media spotlight. And that’s just not a place I want to be. So I’ve decided to ask Micki to reassign me. Permanently.” Her voice cracked but her composure didn’t.

The only sign that she was upset was the fact that her knuckles had turned white.

But Roper didn’t have her composure. He snapped, losing his patience. In a heartbeat he strode around the desk and grasped her by the shoulders, spinning her chair around to face him.

She gasped and squirmed, but he didn’t release his grip. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, emotion showing at last.

“You’re wrong. This is wrong.”

“Because I don’t want to sleep with you anymore?” she said without meeting his gaze. “Or because I don’t like your high-profile life?”

“Because you care about me as much as I care about you. You’re using this ‘I hate being in the public eye’ thing as an excuse not to be with me,” he said, his frustration at an all-time high.

She finally met his gaze. “Pardon me if it bothers me to see myself naked on the Internet!” she spat.

“We both know it isn’t your body. I’ll take a freaking billboard in Manhattan if that’s what it takes to convince you I love you!” he yelled at her.

She stilled and stopped pulling away from him. Her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, too,” she said softly.

Relief swamped him. “Then get angry at whoever is doing this to us. React, instead of being this monotone robot without feelings. Fight for us, dammit!”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

He leaned closer. “Why the hell not?” he asked, seeking an answer to the one question he didn’t understand. “We can ignore the press and focus on us. It isn’t easy, but we can do it.”

“You can. I can’t.”

“Because…” he prompted.

“Because when I’m with you, I’m everything I’ve spent a lifetime trying to avoid.”

He gentled his grip on her shoulders. “In English, please. I’m just not understanding.”

She swiped at a tear running down her face. “I don’t want to be the crazy lady arrested by airport security for making a scene. I don’t want to be caught making love to you in front of a glass window by paparazzi with cameras. No, those photos on the Internet aren’t of us, but they could have been! ”

He finally got it and let out a low groan. “You don’t want to end up like your mother, and being with me increases the chances that when you finally let go and act like yourself, you’ll be caught by the press.”

“I lost my job once thanks to her antics. I’ve spent years since making sure that won’t happen again.”

This time he brushed her tears away with his thumb. “You can’t keep running from who you are. You can’t suppress your true self forever and be happy. You aren’t. You won’t be.”

She stiffened her shoulders. “Who are you to say I’m not happy?”

“I’m the man who made love to you in front of that window. I’ve seen you making snow angels for the first time. I saw you dancing and singing in the corner with Hannah when you thought no one was looking. I’ve seen the real you and I’m here to tell you that if you keep running away from yourself, you’ll spend the rest of your life out of the spotlight like you think you want-and you’ll be perfectly miserable.” He lowered his hand from her face.

He looked into her eyes, and although he’d obviously hit a nerve, he hadn’t changed her mind. His heart sank at the thought of walking out of here as alone as he was when he’d walked in.

“I can’t do this anymore. I’ll talk to Micki and she’ll take care of you from now on.”

“Did you hear anything I said? Or did you tune me out completely?”

“I heard you. I just don’t think you’re right about what I need to be happy.” She folded her arms across her chest.

He was through. If Amy couldn’t see she was running away, there was nothing more he could do to convince her. He had a season to prepare for and he was leaving for Florida to join the team soon. “I guess you’re right. You know what you need and what you want. It sure as hell doesn’t seem to be me.”

She didn’t argue.

“It’s ironic, though. You helped me get my shit together with my family but you can’t do the same for yourself.” And until she was willing to try, he had nothing left to say.

Heart heavy, he turned to go.

And she didn’t stop him as he walked through the door and out of her life.

A MY LEFT WORK EARLY .She wasn’t in the mood to deal with people today. She couldn’t look them in the eye with those photographs circulating, and to add insult to injury, she’d lost the man she loved. In fact, she’d sent him out the door without so much as a goodbye because she wasn’t convinced she could handle anything anymore. What a mess.

She was mentally spent, and the last thing she expected to find was her mother and her aunt cooking up a storm in her kitchen. The scene was reminiscent of her childhood. Big meals, family dinners. A warm, fuzzy feeling surrounded her as she realized that maybe this was exactly what she needed. Retreating to the comfort of home and family without the outside world intruding. It had worked for her when she lived in the retirement community. It could work for her now, helping her forget about what it had cost to let Roper go.

“Hi,” Amy said, announcing her presence.

“Oh, you’re home,” her mother said. She wiped her hands on a towel and strode across the room to give Amy a hug. “Your aunt and I were just making dinner. We thought you could use a home-cooked meal and some cheering up. Between those awful photos and you being silly enough to break up with Roper, we decided you needed your family around you.”

“How do you know about my breakup with Roper?” Considering it had just officially happened earlier today.

“He called and said you might need us and suggested we come here. Of course, we pushed for an answer as to why, and when we found out, we just had to wonder what you were thinking!” her mother explained.

“I’m glad you’re here.” But she wasn’t going to argue with them about the wisdom of the choices she made in her personal life. “A home-cooked meal sounds good. Just let me change into something comfortable and I’ll be right back.”