For good reason. The contents defied description.
Roper looked, blinked and stared again. “Holy—”
“What the hell?” Stan asked, narrowing his gaze and staring at the bag in disbelief. “Is that what I think it is?”
Roper held the bag with two fingers, keeping it far away from him.
“It sure is, Stan. It’s a bag of shit.” Probably dog shit.
And written on the bag in permanent marker were the words
You
Stink.
Roper’s stomach roiled in a combination of nausea and humiliation.
“The nerve of some people. You get on upstairs and take it easy. I’ll get rid of this.” Stan pulled the bag from Roper’s hand, stuffed it in the box and stormed away, heading for the back of the lobby where the trash was located.
Appreciating Stan’s discretion, Roper nodded. Shaken, he headed farther into the building and took the elevator upstairs. He’d just reached the kitchen and lowered himself into the nearest chair when his cell phone rang.
He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced down and groaned, answering it despite knowing better. “Hi, Mom,” he said, hearing the exhaustion in his voice.
“Hello, darling. What’s wrong? You sound down. What happened at the doctor’s?”
“Just some frustrating news,” he admitted. “I’m not getting better as fast as I’d hoped.” He didn’t even think of upsetting her with the news about his recent package in the mail.
“What’s up?” he asked, for the first time almost grateful for his family to focus on.
His mother paused. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“I’m calling about Ben. I visited with him after lunch and I’m horrified by where he’s living. Did you know he’s crashing on a friend’s couch? He gave up his apartment because he couldn’t pay the rent.”
Her voice rose in panic. “I had no idea things were so bad. He never told me.”
Obviously Ben had managed to lie about where he was living until faced with his mother in the flesh.
Roper massaged the back of his suddenly stiff neck. “Mom, Ben’s a big boy. There are any number of jobs he could take that would bring in a weekly salary so he could keep an apartment. He chooses not to apply for them. Just like he chooses to ignore my phone calls or discuss potential coaching jobs.”
Just like his mother chose not to take acting roles she believed were beneath her. The difference was that Ben had lost enough of Roper’s money that Roper no longer felt obligated to help his brother.
“You never did understand how frustrating it is for Ben to live in your shadow,” she said.
Roper let out an angry groan. “I’ll tell you about frustrating. I just had a doctor’s appointment where I learned that despite all the work I’ve done in the past few months, my shoulder isn’t strong enough for spring training. I’ve been killing myself and it just doesn’t matter. So I can’t summon much pity for Ben at the moment. He’s brought his problems on himself.”
A long pause followed, which Roper took to mean his mother finally understood how serious he was about not wanting to discuss Ben. “Is there anything I can do for
you?
” she asked, her voice softening.
“No, thanks. I’ll be fine. I want to grab something to eat before my P.T. appointment, so I need to get going.”
“Okay. But just one more thing? I have a situation,” she said.
Roper narrowed his gaze. Did it ever end? “What kind of situation?”
“It seems that Harrison Smith followed me to New York. In fact, he’s staying in the same hotel. He wants me to take that role I told you about and he’s being very persistent. He sent me roses. Not real roses, mind you, but mink roses. Flowers made from fur. They are simply gorgeous. But that’s not the point.”
“What is?”
“He insists on having dinner tonight and I can’t deal with him alone.
It’s getting harder and harder to resist him.”
“So don’t.” Roper exhaled hard. “A meaty role would be good for you. Why don’t you just take the part?”
“Darling, I couldn’t do that. Just do me a favor and join us for dinner tonight. I’ll be forever grateful.”
“Ask Sabrina and Kevin.”
“I did, but they have one of Kevin’s business dinners. I need you, darling.”
“No—”
“And bring that delightful young woman, Amy, with you.”
“Delightful young woman?” Just what had happened at lunch, anyway? She hadn’t said.
“Well, yes. We got to know each other earlier and she’s a joy. I’d love for her to join us at dinner.”
He’d love to see Amy, too, but not at a family dinner with a Hollywood director. “Mom, I’ve had a rough day and it’s not over yet.
I’m not in the mood for a long dinner.”
“Good! We’ll make it short. Better for me.”
He glanced heavenward. She wasn’t listening. If he didn’t show up, he’d never hear the end of it. Maybe having dinner out would be better than eating alone in his apartment, thinking about his recent package in the mail or the doctor’s report. Besides, he knew when he’d been beat.
At least there was a silver lining. His day had sucked. He deserved a break. And he needed to see Amy.
“Where and when?” he asked.
She mentioned Kelly’s, a small, casual restaurant he’d been to a couple of times. “Oh, listen, that’s my call-waiting,” his mother said.
“Your brother’s on the other line. I’ll see you tonight at seven.”
Roper nodded, hung up, then called Amy.
After spending the day with his family already, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d said no to dinner. But surprisingly, she agreed to join them. She even said she’d meet him at his apartment because he’d just be getting back from the physical therapist—where, after today’s news, he realized he’d have to put in one hundred and fifty percent. He needed to focus on his career, not his family. And not on the beautiful woman who’d agreed to be his salvation at dinner tonight.
AMY WAITED IN THE KITCHEN
for Roper to finish dressing. She hadn’t planned on seeing him again today, but he’d sounded so down, she couldn’t resist coming along to dinner tonight to make sure he was okay. And considering his mood when he’d answered the door, she was glad she’d agreed. She’d watched his mother in action this morning and again at lunch and realized how wearing the woman was on those around her. Cassandra Lee expected the world to fall at her feet. No doubt she’d become used to it in the heyday of her career. And then afterward Roper had ensured she always had everything she needed, Amy thought.
But who made sure Roper had everything he needed? she wondered.
The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she glanced up to see Roper join her wearing a pair of black jeans and a light blue Burberry shirt. Amy wasn’t into designer clothes. But the Jordan sisters were trying to change that, and thanks to them, Amy recognized the classic plaid. She had to admit, she liked that she could hold her own with Roper, a man who was always immaculately groomed, no matter what his mood.
“You look good,” Amy said, the words out before she could stop them. A heated blush rushed to her cheeks.
His gaze bore into hers. “Thank you. You’re looking pretty hot yourself.”
She blushed deeper.
“We have a few minutes before we have to leave. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Perrier?” A smile tugged at his lips. “You see? I heard you when you said you didn’t want to drink around me.”
“Those weren’t my exact words,” she muttered. She’d only said no to a drink last time. But he’d read her mind. Which probably meant he understood her reasons. He was hard to resist when she was sober.
Give her a drink and she’d succumb to his charm in an instant. “No, thank you. I’ll wait until we get to the restaurant.”
“Okay, then. Let me just straighten up and we’ll head on over. With a little luck, Mom and Harrison Smith will be early, too, and we can get this meal over with,” he said, sounding even more preoccupied than usual.
“Why do I have the feeling that you’re worried about more than spending the evening with your mother?”
He shrugged, eyeing her as if deciding whether or not to talk. “I’m just sick of hearing from disgruntled fans. They’re entitled to their feelings, but it would be easier if I didn’t have to deal with it at home, too.”
She narrowed her gaze. “So why do you? Doesn’t your mail go to the stadium or directly to us at the Hot Zone?” She was pretty sure the stadium mail was automatically forwarded to the Hot Zone, protecting him from unwanted correspondence.
It was just another service the Hot Zone offered to their clients.
Long ago, Micki had made sure that someone screened all clients’ fan mail before being passed on to those athletes who wanted to see it.
The rest was answered by someone at the PR firm with a signed photo or as directed by each client.
“Most of my mail goes the standard route. But even though I’m unlisted, it’s not too hard to find out where someone in the public eye lives. This guy’s been sending me stuff all season.”
“At your home?” she asked.
He nodded. “You brought up a letter the other day,” he admitted.
“But that wasn’t the worst of it.” He twisted his head from side to side, obviously aggravated.
She propped her hands on her hips. “I think you need to elaborate.”
He groaned. “Besides the standard letters, I’ve gotten a bobblehead doll with a knife in its shoulder. And then today’s
package
was something else.”
“A knife in its shoulder?” she asked, her voice rising. “And it was a bobblehead doll of
you?
”
“Calm down.” He stepped toward her, placing a hand on her arm.
Not likely, she thought, a chill sweeping through her body. “What was in today’s package?” she asked.
“Forget it. It’s just some crazy fan. Fanatical. Get it? It comes with the territory of playing in the majors and getting the big bucks.”
She raised an eyebrow at him in question. Did he really think he could gloss over this? “Oh, no. You aren’t getting away with avoiding my question. What was in the package?”
He lowered his hand from her arm and met her gaze. “Dog shit with a note saying
You Stink.
At least I think it was from a dog,” he muttered, not wanting to contemplate that thought too deeply.
She winced, both nauseated and horrified at the same time. “You have got to be kidding me! That is the most disgusting, scary thing I’ve ever heard. This guy is nuts!”
“It’s a fan, remember? Just let it go.”
“I remember Uncle Spencer telling me about the time a tennis player was stabbed during a championship match. You can’t brush this off. Did you report it to the police?”
He rolled his eyes. “Now, that would be over-reacting.”
She scowled at him. “Then did you mention it to someone at the Hot Zone? Did you tell Yank about the bobblehead? Of course not,” she answered for him.
“Since you already know the answer, why should I bother answering the question?” he said, laughing at her.
She wasn’t fooled at his attempt to change the subject. “First thing tomorrow I’m going to have all your mail forwarded to the Hot Zone.
We’ll make sure you get your bills and things that are safe as soon as possible.”
He inclined his head. “Not a problem.”
She blinked, startled by his easy agreement. “Oh.”
“I’m not a glutton for punishment. I should have done that from the beginning. It’s more of a mental drain than any kind of real threat. But thank you. Good idea.”
“You’re welcome.” She exhaled hard.
“So how about we just go to dinner?” he asked.
“Sounds like a plan.” Dinner wasn’t the only thing on her agenda.
Now there was more than just his family eating away at him. He also had this nutty fan whose so-called gifts were just sick, and getting worse. Amy didn’t want them to get dangerous. At this point, she was more sure than ever that she had to get Roper out of town.
With or without his consent.
CONSIDERING BEN HAD DEIGNED
to show up, dinner had been surprisingly pleasant, Roper thought. There had been no talk of the televised pilot his mother kept turning down or Roper’s career skid.
Instead Harrison Smith had led the discussion, getting to know Roper, Amy and Ben, and essentially ignoring the diva at the table. By the end of the meal, Cassandra was sulking, proving to Roper that the man had his mother wrapped around his finger. She claimed not to want the attention, but she didn’t want to be ignored, either.
Roper silently applauded the man’s ability to get under his mother’s skin. No man had done that during Roper’s lifetime.
Harrison was busy with the waiter, placing his dessert order. “The lady and I will both have crème brûlée,” he said, placing his hand over Cassandra’s.
Cassandra slid her hand from his. “I’d prefer the tropical sorbet. I have to watch my waistline,” she said, becoming animated for the first time all evening.
Harrison snorted. “She’ll have crème brûlée.” He placed his hand behind her chair and leaned closer. “Are you really going to avoid your favorite dessert just to spite me?”
Cassandra sniffed but didn’t reply.
“Remember when we couldn’t afford more than one dessert and we shared it once a week back in film school?” the other man asked.
“You two knew each other in film school?” What rock was he living under? Roper wondered. And what else was his mother hiding?
“Mom, you’re holding out on us,” Ben said. “Did you and the director here have a thing going on back then?” he asked, chuckling.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to share personal information at the table,”
Roper said to his sibling.
The waiter conspicuously cleared his throat. “Would anyone else like to order something?”
“I’ll have a decaf cappuccino,” Amy replied quickly, probably to kill the oncoming argument between the brothers.
“Espresso,” Roper added.
“Regular coffee,” Ben said.
“And two crème brûlées?” the waiter asked, double-checking with Harrison and Cassandra as he collected the small menus.
To Roper’s surprise, his mother nodded. “That’s fine,” she said with an obviously forced sigh.
She’d caved in to the director. It didn’t matter that the subject was something as insignificant as dessert. Cassandra had given in. Now that he’d witnessed her relationship with Harrison Smith firsthand, Roper knew why his mother was running scared.