Carly Phillips: Hot Property

Well, hell. She got to him. “You wound me,” Roper said.

“You’ll live.”

He laughed hard, something he hadn’t done in way too long. “I suppose I deserved that.”

She grinned. “You supposed right.” Her hand lingered. Her pink fingernails were short and blended with the color of his shirt.

His flesh burned hot underneath the material. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her delicate fingertips lingering so close to the buttons that would let his skin touch hers.

She followed his stare, glanced down, realized she hadn’t removed her hand and snatched it away, leaving him to wonder if she’d felt the same searing heat.

She cleared her throat. “Well, your shirt’s clean so I assume you’ve been a good boy. You haven’t ticked off your date, at least not yet. So where is she? Ladies’ room? Buffet table?”

They were bantering easily and he was glad. But he’d like for her to get to know him better so he could erase the bad first impression he’d made. “If I admit that was tacky and I apologize, can we start over?” he asked.

“That depends.” She narrowed her gaze, assessing him in silence, but assessing him nonetheless.

Roper decided the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off him was a good thing. At least it was mutual. He couldn’t stop staring at her, either. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she’d be good for him. A welcome break from physical therapy for his sprained shoulder and from wondering whether or not he’d return in time for spring training.

“I didn’t come with a date,” he admitted, refocusing on Amy. “Lesson learned the hard way.” Thank God.

She inclined her head. “That’s a start,” she murmured.

“What if I told you I was so taken by you at the wedding that I couldn’t help myself, date or no date?”

She swiped her tongue over her lightly glossed lips. “I’d say you were pushing it and would be better off with just the apology.”

“Even if I was telling the truth?”

“Especially then,” she said, her voice huskier than before.

He stepped closer, so close he could examine each freckle on her nose and cheeks. “Come on, give me another chance. Let’s start fresh.” On impulse, he reached out and ran his finger down the tip of her nose. Skin touched skin and his hand sizzled on contact.

Her eyes widened with awareness, but she didn’t back away.

Pleased, he tipped his head even closer. “So what do you say?”

She bit down on her lower lip, pausing in thought.

The seconds that he waited were the longest of his life.

“For the sake of peace, why not?” she finally said.

He had the second chance he’d sought, he thought with relief. “Can I get you some punch?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’m going to stay away from alcohol. Besides, I should really get-”

A loud bell-like sound clanged, drowning out her voice.

“What’s that?” Amy yelled over the noise.

“Sounds like a fire alarm.”

And he must have been right because the guests, talking loudly among themselves, headed for the front of the offices leading to the hallway.

“Let’s get moving,” he said.

“Are you serious? We’re twenty floors up!” Panicked, she grabbed for her heels.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to take off my shoes so I could run downstairs easier!”

He swallowed a laugh, knowing her fear was real. “In my experience, more often than not it’s a false alarm.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Haven’t you ever seen The Towering Inferno? ”

He chuckled aloud this time. “It’s a bad seventies movie, not reality. But you have a point. Let’s get going. If the shoes don’t hurt, you can keep them on. We’re not going to be running. Just moving quickly.”

She nodded.

“Shoes on or off?” he asked, talking loudly to compensate for the clanging bell.

“On. The heels aren’t that high. I’ll be fine.”

Before she could make a run for the stairs or push through the crowds, Roper slipped his hand into hers and took control. He led her to the fire exit along with the rest of the guests and they maneuvered the long walk down in silence, punctuated by the alarm but with no hint of smoke or fire. Finally they stepped into the front lobby and were greeted by firemen in uniform directing people to the sidewalk across the street.

From what Roper could gather, the fire chief thought it was a false alarm, but until they checked out the building, they couldn’t be sure. Everyone needed to evacuate.

Outside, he caught up with one of his teammates.

Jorge Calderone lifted a hand in greeting. “Someone say Yank Morgan trip on his Noodle and accidentally pull on the fire alarm,” he said in his heavy accent.

Roper shook his head and laughed. “You’re kidding. Was the old man hurt?”

“He’s fine. But Sophia mucho angry that he ruined the party.”

Roper thought of perfectionist Sophie and said, “I just bet she is.”

“I’m not staying to freeze my ass off out here. See ya, mi amigo. ” Jorge strode away without looking back.

Roper turned to Amy. “I’d have introduced you to my friend but he took off too fast.”

“Not a problem.” Her voice shook as she spoke and she had wrapped her arms around her upper body as she shivered in the below-freezing temperatures.

He slipped his sport jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She smiled appreciatively. “Thanks. I left my jacket at the coat check when I arrived, and my body is used to much warmer temperatures.”

“I should have figured as much. Can I take you somewhere for dinner? I know a nice place with good food.” The party might be over, but he wasn’t ready to part ways with Amy just yet.

“No thanks. I really should just go home, change and get warm. Oh, no.” She swung around and glanced back at the building.

“What’s wrong?”

She shut her eyes, frustration clear in her expression. “I left my key in my coat pocket.”

He shoved his hands into his front trouser pockets for warmth. “I’m sure the hotel would issue you another one, unless your ID is in your pocket, too?”

“No. But I’m not talking about a hotel key card. I’m talking about the actual key to my apartment.”

“Wait, you live here? In New York?” Suddenly he was wary. Earlier when he’d pursued her, somewhere in the back of his mind was the knowledge that Amy was in town for a short time. No hopes, no expectations to add to his burdens. Except, apparently, he was wrong.

“I just moved here. I’m subletting Micki’s apartment since it’s too small for her whole family and they stay at Damian’s when they’re in the city, anyway.” Amy hopped from foot to foot in order to keep warm. “I take it Micki didn’t mention it?”

Roper shook his head. He was going to strangle his best friend for the omission. If he’d known Amy was a permanent resident, he wouldn’t have restarted his flirtation. He was looking for a quick fix and a good time. Not a relationship with a woman nearby who, though she kept her distance now, would undoubtedly begin to expect something more eventually. He’d had enough of that already.

“I could talk to Sophie or Yank and see if they have an extra key, but they look tied up with the firemen,” she said, glancing over his shoulder. “I guess I’ll just wait.”

Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed red from the cold and her curls were tousled around her pretty face. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Even if he had known she’d moved to town, he’d have had a hard time staying away. Besides, he wasn’t going to over-think this, just make the most of it.

She shivered and he stepped toward the curb, hailing the first yellow cab that appeared and opening the door so she could get in first.