“Try me.”
He shrugged. “Mom’s an actress, or at least she was until she aged beyond the point where cosmetic surgery enabled her to take youthful roles.”
“Would I know of her?” Amy asked.
“Her stage name is Cassandra Lee.”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “From the movies Maiden Lane and On Sandy Shores! My mother is a huge fan and took me to her movies all the time when I was growing up!”
“That’s her,” Roper said. “These days she’s too vain to accept the more mature roles, so she’s settled into living her life with me supporting her. Not that I mind, since she worked hard to take care of us while I was a kid.”
“It must be hard aging in Hollywood.”
“There are plenty of better-known actresses who’ve handled it.
Sharon Stone, Meryl Streep, Annette Bening. Mom has truly made Poor Me into an art form. But I’m used to it by now.”
Amy finished her meal, leaving nothing on her plate. She wasn’t one of those women who pushed the food around instead of eating, and that pleased him.
She raised her glass and sipped her champagne. “What about your father? Is he still alive? Mine isn’t. He passed away a few months after I started junior high,” she said, her tone wistful.
“I’m sorry.” He wanted to squeeze her hand, but she didn’t seem to want or need sympathy.
She finished her champagne and smiled.
He poured them both another glass. “My father is still alive. He just wasn’t ever much of an influence in my life, except for the fact that I inherited my baseball talent from him. Eduardo Montoya. He was a big-time player in his day. And before you ask, Roper was my mother’s name before she had it changed.”
Amy inclined her head. “I’ve never heard of him, but that isn’t saying much.”
He nodded. “It’s kind of nice that you don’t know the professional me.”
She nodded in understanding. He couldn’t get over how much he’d revealed to her tonight. Other than with Micki, he never discussed his famous parents with anyone. He didn’t need another reason for people to be impressed with something about him that had nothing to do with who he was inside. Amy was different. She was easy to talk to and genuinely interested in him, unlike the usual women he dated, ones who were more interested in his career, status and what he could buy them. Before now, all he’d wanted from his companions was a good time, in bed and out. Yet here was a woman he could talk to….
Unwilling to think about that, he rose and started to clean up. Amy helped and in the process, they managed to finish the bottle of champagne. Once the plates were in the dishwasher, and the kitchen was sparkling, he finally led Amy into the family room and turned on the big-screen TV to watch the ball drop in Times Square. He’d have offered to take her home, but he was enjoying her company too much and he didn’t want to ring in the New Year alone.
She snuggled into the corner of the couch and didn’t object when he eased in close beside her. From the way she’d tripped once on her way into the den and giggled a few times over a joke he hadn’t made, Roper knew the champagne had gone to her head.
She was adorable to watch, and he liked having her in his home.
Another first.
She narrowed her gaze at the TV screen depicting Times Square. “I can’t believe all those people are standing outside in that freezing-cold weather. It was awful when we were there and it wasn’t by choice!”
She shivered at the memory, giving him just the excuse he needed.
“Spoken like a true Florida girl.” Roper pulled her close at the same time the countdown to the New Year began.
“Know what I was doing last year at this time?” Amy asked him, her eyes wide, her face close to his.
“What?”
“Breaking up a fight between two men who wanted to kiss Aunt Darla first once the ball dropped,” she murmured. “It’s been ages since I spent New Year’s with someone my own age.”
“Oh, yeah? And when
He shrugged. “Mom’s an actress, or at least she was until she aged beyond the point where cosmetic surgery enabled her to take youthful roles.”
“Would I know of her?” Amy asked.
“Her stage name is Cassandra Lee.”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “From the movies Maiden Lane and On Sandy Shores! My mother is a huge fan and took me to her movies all the time when I was growing up!”
“That’s her,” Roper said. “These days she’s too vain to accept the more mature roles, so she’s settled into living her life with me supporting her. Not that I mind, since she worked hard to take care of us while I was a kid.”
“It must be hard aging in Hollywood.”
“There are plenty of better-known actresses who’ve handled it.
Sharon Stone, Meryl Streep, Annette Bening. Mom has truly made Poor Me into an art form. But I’m used to it by now.”
Amy finished her meal, leaving nothing on her plate. She wasn’t one of those women who pushed the food around instead of eating, and that pleased him.
She raised her glass and sipped her champagne. “What about your father? Is he still alive? Mine isn’t. He passed away a few months after I started junior high,” she said, her tone wistful.
“I’m sorry.” He wanted to squeeze her hand, but she didn’t seem to want or need sympathy.
She finished her champagne and smiled.
He poured them both another glass. “My father is still alive. He just wasn’t ever much of an influence in my life, except for the fact that I inherited my baseball talent from him. Eduardo Montoya. He was a big-time player in his day. And before you ask, Roper was my mother’s name before she had it changed.”
Amy inclined her head. “I’ve never heard of him, but that isn’t saying much.”
He nodded. “It’s kind of nice that you don’t know the professional me.”
She nodded in understanding. He couldn’t get over how much he’d revealed to her tonight. Other than with Micki, he never discussed his famous parents with anyone. He didn’t need another reason for people to be impressed with something about him that had nothing to do with who he was inside. Amy was different. She was easy to talk to and genuinely interested in him, unlike the usual women he dated, ones who were more interested in his career, status and what he could buy them. Before now, all he’d wanted from his companions was a good time, in bed and out. Yet here was a woman he could talk to….
Unwilling to think about that, he rose and started to clean up. Amy helped and in the process, they managed to finish the bottle of champagne. Once the plates were in the dishwasher, and the kitchen was sparkling, he finally led Amy into the family room and turned on the big-screen TV to watch the ball drop in Times Square. He’d have offered to take her home, but he was enjoying her company too much and he didn’t want to ring in the New Year alone.
She snuggled into the corner of the couch and didn’t object when he eased in close beside her. From the way she’d tripped once on her way into the den and giggled a few times over a joke he hadn’t made, Roper knew the champagne had gone to her head.
She was adorable to watch, and he liked having her in his home.
Another first.
She narrowed her gaze at the TV screen depicting Times Square. “I can’t believe all those people are standing outside in that freezing-cold weather. It was awful when we were there and it wasn’t by choice!”
She shivered at the memory, giving him just the excuse he needed.
“Spoken like a true Florida girl.” Roper pulled her close at the same time the countdown to the New Year began.
“Know what I was doing last year at this time?” Amy asked him, her eyes wide, her face close to his.
“What?”
“Breaking up a fight between two men who wanted to kiss Aunt Darla first once the ball dropped,” she murmured. “It’s been ages since I spent New Year’s with someone my own age.”
“Oh, yeah? And when
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