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hand.
    Roper shrugged. “Okay, then. Why the hell not?”
    Yank tugged on Noodle’s leash, and as they walked out the door, Yank whistled, pleased with his handiwork.

    J.D. met him by the car. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
    “Because I’m not a Boy Scout and I never have been,” Yank said, laughing. John Roper was about to benefit from Yank being a lying, meddling son of a bitch.

    AMY LOVED FLORIDA. SHE enjoyed the warm weather all year, the ease of never having to wear a winter jacket. It was one of the reasons she’d stayed down South instead of going away to college. She also was a person who appreciated comfortable surroundings, and her home and family in Florida represented the familiar.
    Her father had died of a heart attack when she was young. But thanks to her mother and aunt, and her uncle’s frequent visits, she’d never felt alone or neglected. Still, she’d been old enough to remember her father and she’d always felt his absence in her life. While her mother was wild, spirited and free, her father had been more reserved, the epitome of good manners.
    When she was a kid, she’d had some wild antics of her own, like when her father had insisted they give the puppy she’d found to the pound. Granted it was a no-kill shelter, but she’d wanted that dog, and to prove her point, she’d picketed—with signs—from the garage roof below her bedroom window. He had insisted she come down before she fell off, making his disapproval with her technique clear along with his fear for her safety. He preferred she use traditional, safe methods to make her point instead of alerting the neighbors and causing them to panic and call both him and 9-1-1.
    She laughed at the memory, because it had been one of the few times she’d made use of her mother’s genes—the ones she usually kept hidden inside her. From that point on, she’d tried to please her father and rein in any wildness. Even after he was gone, Amy had never stopped trying to please him.
    Being a social worker, helping out others in need, was something she knew her father would have been proud of. When she’d lost that job, thanks to one of her mother’s more outrageous stunts, she’d been devastated and she’d retreated home to lick her wounds. While there, she fell into the habit of looking out for her mother and her friends, again something her father would have approved of. She’d ended up as the social director of the seniors’ community and she had to admit the job had been a good fit for her.
    But she’d spent enough time watching over her mother and she missed being with people her own age. Amy had woken up on her birthday and realized not only hadn’t she accomplished her old dreams, she’d forgotten to make new ones. Uprooting herself from the familiar was the first step in forging a new life. One that included a new career
    —with the Hot Zone thanks to her uncle Spencer and the generosity of the Jordan sisters in giving her a chance.
    Now, on New Year’s Eve, she stepped off the elevator at the Park Avenue offices of the Hot Zone and glanced at the guests, the male ones in particular, and an immediate feeling of déjà vu swept over her.
    Just like at Sophie and Riley’s wedding, she felt out of her element.
    Would she ever get used to being surrounded by buff, hot men? She hoped not, she thought, as she glanced around at her new normal.
    The coat-check woman greeted her and took her jacket. A server offered her a glass of champagne, which Amy declined. She wanted a clear head for all the new faces and names she’d encounter, as well as access to her memories of those she’d already met at the wedding.
    Those memories were vivid. Especially the ones of John Roper and how disappointed she’d been by his deception. Of course, maybe he’d have told her about his date given more time.
    And maybe he hadn’t leaned close enough to kiss her cheek, she thought, still disappointed by the outcome. No matter how much she