She might as well start handling him now. “No, you won’t. Your shoulder might heal on its own, but you won’t get your strength back without hard work.”

“Amy’s right, John,” his mother said, shocking Amy.

If the stunned look on Roper’s face was any indication, he agreed.

“I’m tired. I’ve upset your sister and obviously overstayed my welcome. I’m going to go back to the hotel. First I’ll go talk to Sabrina and make peace. We can pick up the wedding talk another time. I still say they’ll regret a small wedding later.” With a wave, his mother headed in the direction Sabrina had gone, leaving Roper and Amy alone.

Roper leaned against the wall and let out a low groan. “She gave in,” he said, relieved.

“For now. And only because I backed off first,” Amy said.

“You are amazing.” She’d been astute enough to realize that his mother might perceive her as a threat. Roper shot her a look filled with admiration and gratitude.

She shrugged. “Years of experience at the retirement community, I guess. I just sensed she needed to feel in control of things.”

“Well, it worked.” Roper knew another reason why Amy had been able to get his mother to step aside for today, at least-because his mother was astute enough to sense there was more to Roper’s relationship with Amy than business. She’d said as much on the phone after meeting Amy at the apartment the other day. Cassandra thought her son had a thing for Amy, which worked to Amy’s benefit because his mother played nice to Roper’s girlfriends.

She had spelled out her reasons to him the one and only time he’d brought a girlfriend with him to L.A. The woman hadn’t had nearly Amy’s intelligence and she’d grated on his mother’s nerves, but Cassandra had been the gracious hostess, giving in to all the other woman’s requests-to go shopping on Rodeo Drive, to tour Paramount Studios-all because, as she’d told Roper later, she knew he’d grow tired of her quickly.

And he had. He always did. The women he met and dated up until now didn’t have enough substance to make him want them in his life long term.

“Time for the doctor,” Amy said.

He rolled his eyes at her bossy tone. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t in charge. That he could make his own decisions. That he was the man.

Until he realized that if she hadn’t been here, he would have canceled his appointment. She’d done her job, keeping him on schedule. Damn, but he liked her take-charge personality.

“Amy, do you want to join us for a late lunch this afternoon?” Sabrina called out as she and his mother walked back into the room.

Amy paused, then said, “Love to.” She shot him a satisfied grin.

Knowing Amy, she figured keeping his mother and sister busy would enable him to work uninterrupted.

She was right.

But he’d have the last laugh. Because while he was going to his appointments, she’d be getting grilled by his inquisitive family.

He ought to tell her, then decided against it. Amy could handle herself.

“Can we talk before you take off?” Amy asked.

He nodded and she walked him to the door.

“Ready to rethink the lodge?” she asked.

He shook his head. “So far you’ve got things well under control. When you don’t, we’ll talk.” He threw down the gauntlet, knowing she’d work doubly hard to prove she could corral his family.

No escape necessary, or so he hoped.

“Promise?”

He nodded.

“Say it.”

“I promise.” He couldn’t hold back his grin.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said, pointing at him for emphasis.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.” He grabbed her finger long enough to stop her and glanced at her satisfied smile.

He could think of just one way to wipe the smug grin off her face. He leaned forward, brushing a long, lingering kiss over her lips before turning around and walking out. Leaving them both wanting more.

ROPER WALKED OUT OF THE office of the team’s orthopedist, the best in the city, and barely felt the cold winter air. He’d gone from a euphoric high, leaving Amy with a stunned expression after that kiss, to this. He’d just gotten the results of an MRI he’d had taken last week and the news wasn’t good. Despite his workouts and physical therapy, his strength wasn’t returning as quickly as he’d hoped. The MRI didn’t show anything that would impede his progress, but the doctor also said that sometimes healing didn’t occur at the pace a patient wanted. He’d have to listen to his body or risk further damage.

The doctor was warning him. Spring training might start late for him.

Or not at all.

Roper had seen many players who never bounced back after surgery, and in his case, he wasn’t coming off a stellar season to start with.

Mentally he’d needed good news today. Promising news. He hadn’t gotten it.

“A delay ought to go over well with the already-pissed-off fans,” he muttered, kicking uselessly at an empty coffee cup littering the sidewalk. On the city streets, nobody spared him a second glance.

Someone talking to himself wasn’t unusual here. He was just lucky there were no reporters around to let the world know he was losing it.

At least, since he’d seen the team doctor, he didn’t have to call his coach. The doc would do it for him, which took one load off his shoulders. Roper had a couple of hours before his physical-therapy appointment, so he headed home to unwind.

As he passed the front desk with a wave to Stan, the doorman, called him back.

“What’s up?” Roper asked Stan, who’d been on the day shift ever since Roper had bought the place two years ago.

“Another delivery for you.” He held out a box with a familiar scrawl.

“The guy doesn’t give up,” Stan said, lifting his cap and scratching the top of his head.

Roper began to shrug, and the immediate soreness reminded him of his already shitty day. “He’s a Renegades fanatic who doesn’t think I’m earning my keep. At the moment he’s got a valid point.”

Stan frowned. “Maybe if he showed you some support, you’d get your groove back faster.”

Roper appreciated the man’s backing. “Thanks. Not much I can do but ignore it.” Still, the thought of how much he’d disappointed the fans, his teammates and himself gnawed at his gut.

“I still don’t like that he knows where you live.”

Roper forced a laugh. He didn’t like it much himself, but again, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. “Half of New York City knows where I live. It’s not a national secret. But I appreciate your concern.”

“Yeah, well, it just doesn’t sit right. I mean, the guy doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. He just sends you things that don’t fit in the mailboxes and have to come through me. You need to get these things screened.”

He waved at an older woman passing by. “Afternoon, Mrs. Davis,” he said.

“Hello, Stanley.” She smiled warmly and kept walking.

“Anyway, I don’t like it,” he said, turning his attention back to Roper.

“It’s his way of getting my attention.” As if Roper could or would ignore the upset-fan letters still trickling into the stadium addressed to him.

“Why don’t you open it down here? That way I can get rid of it for you afterward,” Stan offered.

Roper recognized his curiosity but also his point. Who wanted more reminders of his shitty season hanging around his apartment? “Why not?”

Stan pulled a box cutter from beneath the desk. “Do you want the honors?”

Roper shook his head. “You can have them.”

Stan neatly slit the box and opened the flaps, then Roper took over. He reached inside and pulled out a Ziploc bag, sealed shut.

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.”