Yank cleared his throat. “The weekly meeting of the Hot Zone and Athletes Only will now come to order.” He slammed his gavel down on the table, missing the rubber padding made to cushion the blow. The wooden hammer hit the conference table and Amy felt the vibrations rippling throughout her body. She jumped up from her seat, then discovered she was the only one who had. Micki, Annabelle, Sophie, Lola and even her uncle Spencer had already slid their chairs back, away from the table in anticipation of Yank’s move.

Amy’s cheeks burned as she lowered herself slowly back into her chair.

“Sorry. We should have warned you he has no aim.” Micki, tanned from her time on the island, re-settled herself in her chair and the rest of the group did the same.

“And he doesn’t care that he’s scarring an expensive table,” Sophie added.

“Stop talkin’ about me like I’m not in the room,” Yank muttered. “I’m the one in charge. The meeting’s been called to order. As you all can see even if I can’t, we have a new member of the team. Amy, we’re happy to have you.”

“Thank you,” Amy said, touched.

“No thanks necessary,” Annabelle said.

“Besides, change is good.” Lola patted Yank’s hand.

“Even if it means I’m getting older and blinder?” he asked.

“Even then,” Lola said softly.

“Amen,” Uncle Spencer said, probably because he was aging along with his friend, something Amy preferred not to think about too long or too hard.

She remained silent instead, sensing it was the wrong time to interrupt. Even the three sisters remained quiet, letting Yank be comforted by his wife.

Of course the silence didn’t last long. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Yank asked, all bluster once more. “First order of business. Michelle?” he asked, calling Micki by her given name.

The first half hour of the meeting consisted of a run-through of current clients, assignments and status updates, along with banter most often begun or finished off by Yank. Amy found the dynamic interesting, considering the family-run business operated smoothly despite it all.

“Now, on to the new assignments,” Yank said.

“Amy, we have your first client all lined up,” Micki said. “After Spencer came to us with the idea of hiring you, one of the things that impressed us most was your organizational ability. After all, you’ve spent the past few years single-handedly running the activities at a retirement community where the older residents are cantankerous at worst and difficult at best.”

Amy couldn’t hold back a laugh. “That’s a better description than any I could have come up with.”

“Hey, are you picking on us old folks?” Yank asked.

Uncle Spencer rolled his eyes. “It takes one to know one.”

“Look who’s talking,” Yank said to his best friend.

Annabelle rose from her seat. “Grow up, both of you! Micki, go on.”

Sophie and Lola applauded while Annabelle re-seated herself.

“Okay, as I was saying, when this assignment came in, we immediately chose you because of your ability to micromanage.”

“I’m grateful for your faith in me.” Amy rubbed her hands together, the idea of digging into her new job exciting her. “So tell me more.”

Micki nodded. “We have a client, a baseball player, who is having serious career issues and who needs to focus completely on both the game and on his life. Unfortunately he has family complications that are distracting him.”

Amy shook her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were talking about John Roper,” she said, without really meaning it.

But every last person at the table turned their gaze her way.

Oh, no, Amy thought. Not Roper. Somehow she managed not to say the words aloud. She couldn’t. Whoever the client was, Amy had no choice but to accept him with a smile. It was her first day, her first assignment, and she could not afford to act like a prima donna.

“So it is John Roper?” Amy asked.

All heads at the table nodded.

“Okay, then.” She pasted on her brightest smile. “At least it’s someone I already know.” Thank goodness nobody at the table knew just how well she’d almost come to know Roper.

“That’s what we thought,” Micki said, obviously pleased with the business pairing.

“Although, if you aren’t comfortable…” Sophie’s voice trailed off, her offer clear. The other woman obviously sensed now, as she’d indicated at the party the other night, that Amy’s history with Roper might make it uncomfortable for her to work with him.

Amy shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Nobody at the table knew she’d spent the night at Roper’s place New Year’s Eve.

A knock sounded on the conference-room door and her uncle Spencer’s secretary, Frannie, walked in. “I’m sorry for interrupting but I have news that can’t wait.”

“Come on in and let’s hear it,” Annabelle said, gesturing with her hands. “Something juicy, I hope?”

Micki leaned over and whispered to Amy. “Frannie gets the morning papers and fills us in with anything we need to know about our clients that the press got their teeth into first.”

“Got it,” Amy said, nodding.

“You, my dear, have arrived.” Frannie strode over to Amy, taking her by complete surprise. “Photograph and articles.”

“Excuse me?” Amy asked, confused.

“Page Six in the New York Post!” Frannie exclaimed.

“Get out! What are you holding back?” Annabelle asked Amy. At the same time, Micki snatched the paper from Frannie’s hands and began riffling through it.

The other woman, Amy noticed, had a second copy beneath her arm.

“What is on Page Six?” Amy finally managed to ask.

“Only the premier source of celebrity gossip in New York City,” Lola pointed out, her voice calm in the midst of the sisters’ excitement.

Amy thought she might throw up. “Celebrity?” A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as the memory of the flashing cameras outside Roper’s apartment came back to her, more vivid than ever.

“Liz Smith and Cindy Addams’s columns are featured there,” Sophie said. “What does it say about Amy?”

“Quit keepin’ it to yourself,” Yank ordered.

Their curiosity piqued, everyone seemed oblivious to Amy’s anxiety. Everyone except her uncle Spencer, who glanced at her through worried eyes.

Micki began to read aloud. “What troubled Renegades player needs a distraction from his problematic moves on the field? On New Year’s Eve, hottie John Roper forgot his troubles with a lady friend who is surprisingly not of the garden-variety sexpots he normally dates. Who is she and is it serious? Considering this photo was taken outside Roper’s apartment building on New Year’s Day and the woman was wearing very comfortable clothes, anything is possible. Stay tuned.”

At least they hadn’t mentioned her by name, Amy thought.

“Anything else?” Annabelle asked.

She wanted more?

“The Daily News picked up the piece and ran with it.” Frannie pushed her glasses farther up on her nose and began to read. “‘John Roper is numbing his pain in the arms of a woman. Amy Stone, a Florida transplant and the newest member of the Hot Zone team, was caught sneaking out of his apartment building New Year’s Day wearing nothing more than sweats and high heels from their aborted soiree at the Hot Zone the night before. A new year, a new relationship and maybe a renewed career. I say, “Go for it, Johnny!”’”

Yank snickered.

Amy winced. She’d been trying to forget the incident, going so far as to give up on the outfit she’d left with him. Thanks to the New York press, she was big-time news. She might even have outdone her mother and aunt, and that was saying something.

“What’s the original source?” Sophie asked.

“Gawkerstalker.com.” Frannie offered her copy of the paper to Amy.

She shook her head.

“Even though we didn’t invite the press to the party, I’m guessing someone saw Roper outside the office after the fire alarm went off and called it in. Either they were followed back to Roper’s apartment or they found the information on the Web site and staked out his building hoping for a story.”

“Well, they got one,” Amy muttered. “What is gawkerstalker.com?” she asked.

“A celebrity-sighting Web site. People e-mail, text message or call in celebrity sightings,” Micki explained.

“You’re kidding. I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Celebs are big news, and in New York, athletes are prime targets, too. In fact, there’s one more mention,” Frannie said.

“Let’s get it over with, please,” Amy said, resigned.

The older woman cleared her throat and silence settled over the room. “We’re not the only ones who keep up with Page Six. Frank Buckley picked up the story, too.”

“Buckley is Roper’s number-one nemesis,” her uncle explained.

Frannie nodded. “I downloaded his comments from his Web site. He says, ‘Premier sports agents Spencer Atkins and Yank Morgan may have one helluva time unloading Roper to any team this off-season, and not just because of his poor playing skills. But if his New Year’s Eve activities are any indication, Roper’s only interested in one kind of game.’”

“Poor playing skills, my ass,” Spencer said, jumping up from the table. “The man still had a batting average of 290, thirty-five home runs and 121 RBIs, even with his problems. He’s got a no-trade clause and he’s not going anywhere,” he said, then lowered himself back into his seat.

That was her uncle, Amy thought. Yank might bluster but Spencer spoke when he had something deliberate and calculated to say. She wondered what he’d have to say to her. Then again, considering his hands-off approach to her mother, maybe he’d forgo the lecture.

Sophie spoke, calming the room. “I suggest we all settle down and discuss things calmly and rationally.”