Her hands began to sweat because somehow, there were photographs of Amy and Roper-
Having sex.
She ordered herself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Think.
She peeled open her eyelids and looked again. Thanks to the unbelievable angle of the bodies on screen, Amy tipped her head to the side to get a better glimpse.
“When did you get a tattoo?” her uncle Spencer asked from behind them.
“I didn’t!” she said tightly, jumping up from her seat, nearly knocking everyone behind her over in her effort to escape the sudden stifling feeling surrounding her.
“Take it easy,” Micki said, grabbing her wrist. “They’re obviously doctored, so breathe. We’ll figure something out.”
Everyone around her spoke, but she couldn’t hear anything beyond the ringing in her ears. It didn’t matter that the body on the screen wasn’t really hers. It was her face. And nobody who viewed this photograph would know or care that it wasn’t really Amy and Roper doing the deed.
She knew her business. Perception was everything. Thanks to her relationship with Roper, she’d been violated in the most extreme and demeaning way and there was nothing she could do about it.
Tears filled her eyes, along with impotent frustration. She’d felt like this once before. Memories of her mother being photographed as Lady Godiva came back to her vividly. Guilt by association had damned her in the eyes of her employers and made her a laughingstock in the community. She’d let herself down, but worse, she felt her father’s disappointment keenly. Amy had coped by withdrawing deeper into her mother’s world, doing her best to help them control their behavior. Without others to judge her, she’d been able to live with the insanity.
But here in New York, she couldn’t hide the same way. She hadn’t signed up for the privilege of being in the public eye. Nor did she want it.
The price was too high.
She jerked away from Micki, her uncle and everyone else calling her name and headed to find the one person she could vent on. The person who’d caused this mess, intentionally or not.
To her surprise, Amy didn’t have to go far to find Roper. He was waiting in her office.
ROPER HAD RECEIVED enough phone calls and e-mails about the Internet photos to know he’d better reach Amy before she had a chance to build up emotional walls against him.
She burst into the room quickly and stopped short, obviously shocked to see him. She was dressed for work, in a blazer and slacks. Professional and cute at the same time.
As usual, his heart beat faster at the sight of her. He’d accepted his feelings for her.
She hadn’t.
He welcomed them.
She was still running.
“Hi.” She straightened her shoulders and turned away for a second, obviously wiping tears from her eyes. He guessed she’d heard about the photos.
Anger gripped him, as it had when he’d seen the pictures the first time. This wasn’t the usual paparazzi photo. Someone was going to pay.
Clearing her throat, she met his gaze. “You saved me a trip. I was just coming to find you,” she said calmly. Too calmly.
Everything inside him chilled. “Well, I’m glad I saved you a trip. What’s up?” he asked, trying to gauge her mood.
She walked past him, retreating behind the safety of her desk. “Let’s put it out on the table, okay? I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures.” She clasped her hands in front of her, but not before he noticed that they were shaking and her cheeks were flushed pink in embarrassment.
He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from everything that had and could hurt her, but he knew better than to think it was possible. She needed to face this challenge. They needed to face it together if they ever wanted to have a future.
“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
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,
He finally got it and let out a low groan. “You don’t want to end up like your mother, and being with me
