Hot Number

CHAPTER FIVE

DAMIAN'S TROPICAL RETREAT literally took Micki's breath away. Tall palm trees and lush plants dotted the landscape made more beautiful by the expanse of blue sky above them. Despite her anger, he kept up a steady flow of one-sided conversation she couldn't help but listen to with rapt interest.

So far she'd learned that there was one small town and five major estates on the entire island, none within walking distance of the others. The wealthy neighbors rarely crossed paths, while in the town-which supplied the necessities for the visiting inhabitants-the neighbors hung out, gossiped and treated each other like family. That, she discovered, was why Damian loved the place.

He could find either privacy or a sense of small-town kinsmanship, whichever he desired at the moment. On first glance at the island, Micki completely understood his reasoning, but she wasn't about to tell him so. Because she wasn't speaking to him unless she absolutely had to.

"My sisters and their families use the house on their vacations," he said as he continued to drive.

"I'm not in the mood for idle chitchat."

"There's not much else to do to pass the time during the ride."

He wanted to talk? She'd talk. "You brought me here against my will. I think that's called kidnapping."

"So sue me." He laughed. "Your uncle wanted you to have some peace until this blew over and there's nowhere more peaceful than Casa de Fuller."

She didn't know who she was more upset with, her family for treating her like a baby or Damian for buying into it. "It was one picture in a New York newspaper. I can handle the fallout."

"I'm sure you can," he said in a soothing voice.

"If you believe that, then why bring me here?"

"Your uncle asked me to. Since the photo showed you out of control, the publicist who can't practice what she preaches, Yank's worried. And since I had a role in last night's mess, he holds me responsible. The least I could do was help fix things."

Damian's gentlemanly side was rearing its head again. "What role are you referring to?" she asked. "That of savior?"

He gripped the wheel more tightly. "Instigator. I got the definite feeling that when you saw me with Carole, it set you off somehow."

"Who's Carole?" she asked, deliberately playing dumb.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing grin. "My date last night."

"Date? Is that what you call her?" Micki asked and immediately could have bitten her tongue in two.

She might not want to reveal her insecurities, but she didn't have to insult another woman just because she was jealous of Damian's interest in someone so feminine.

"It wasn’t you or your date that set me off. Not exactly." As she glanced down at her unpainted fingernails, the words she kept inside of her spilled free. "I've always been the tomboy in the family, I guess because of how close I was to Uncle Yank. When my parents died I trailed after my uncle like he was a god." From the day she'd gone to live with him, Uncle Yank had always been there, the most dominant presence in her life.

Damian nodded in understanding. "He took you and your sisters in. Idolizing him wouldn't be all that unusual."

"It was beyond idolizing. I never felt like myself around my sisters, but it was different with Uncle Yank. He just understood me from the beginning."

"So you were into sports, but somehow I doubt you were an ordinary tomboy" He turned toward her, his gaze meeting hers. "Because there's nothing ordinary about you," he said in a husky voice, taking her off guard.

She swallowed hard, fighting the sexual and emotional effect his words had on her. "I definitely had the most masculine role models you can imagine." Still, she rarely regretted her choices. She not only idolized her uncle, she adored him. 'It's just that there are times I wish I'd chosen Sophie or Annabelle to worship because maybe then I-"

She clamped her mouth shut before she said more, realizing how much insight into her soul she'd nearly given a man who definitely wouldn't plan on returning the favor. He'd told her as much, admitting the women he chose to be with were the ones who knew the score. Women who'd let him easily walk away.

They both knew she didn't fit the mold.

Damian gripped the steering wheel tightly and spared a quick glance at Micki. The wind had blown her blond curls around her face in an adorable tangled mess, but it was her silence that caught his attention.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, but whatever she'd been about to reveal remained locked inside her.

Not for the first time, he wondered what made this enigmatic woman tick. A tomboy who was comfortable in a locker room full of naked men, yet a female who was uncomfortable in her own skin. What an interesting mix of contradictions she presented.

At least she was speaking to him again. He hoped his next comment wouldn't put the barrier right back up. "My guess is that you wish you'd spent more time with your sisters and then maybe you wouldn't be thought of as one of the boys."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, her voice tight with tension.

"Something you said last night."

"I wouldn't remember."

She was lying, he thought. She remembered everything about last night as clearly as he did.

Suddenly his estate loomed ahead and he pulled onto the private paved road that led to his home. When he hit the remote he kept in his car, two large iron gates slowly opened before them. He pulled up the circular driveway and parked in front. Before he could say anything else, Micki hopped out of the Jeep ahead of him.

He'd have liked to continue their talk, but there would be more than enough time to ask her questions later. Unless she bailed and headed back for New York. A thought he suddenly didn't find all that appealing,

MICKI STOOD in Damian's large kitchen, which seemed to be the center of the first floor. On one side there was a functional working area and on the other, a long counter surrounded by bar stools. In the middle stretched a large table that seated six. Attached to that was a family room with a flat-screen TV, visible from all angles of the kitchen.

Damian dropped his keys and walked straight to an answering machine, which he noticed was blinking red. He hit a button and an electronic voice informed him there were seven messages.,

"Hi, it's Ronnie. Just wanted to make sure you got down there safely. Call me."

Damian glanced at Micki. "That's my youngest sister," he explained without being asked.

"Hi, Damian. It's Brenda. We're worried about you and that wrist. Call us."

Micki shot him a questioning look.

"The middle one." He rolled his eyes, but the gesture was purely indulgent.

"It's Dad. Your mother's driving me crazy. She's been calling every hour and hanging up no matter how many times I explain you won't get home until later. Check in before she drives me batty. Oww. Damn woman pinched me. Call-" His message was cut off by the beep signaling the end of his allotted time.

Micki laughed.

"Uncle Damian, I need you. Mom won't let me go to the movies with a boy. How ancient is that? You have to talk to her. Puhleeze!" The young girlish voice whined into the phone.

Damian shook his head. "Melanie. She's sixteen going on twenty-six."

"Hi, baby brother, it's Marissa. The girls are making me insane. One wants to date, the other won't leave her room. We're home for the night. Call and let us know how the wrist is doing."

He ran a hand through his hair and turned away, obviously growing embarrassed by the train of phone calls. Embarrassed but not annoyed, Micki noted, as another female voice chimed in next

"It's Ronnie again. I didn't buy your I'm fine act. I know you're upset and worried about not being able to play ball. Call me."

A beep and then a voice said, "Hi, honey. You could call your mother every once in a while."

Micki swallowed a laugh.

And finally, the electronic voice chimed in next saying, "End of messages."

"You're lucky to have them, you know. All of them," Micki said, keenly aware of the importance of her sisters, uncle and Lola in her life. None made up for the absence of her parents but she'd be adrift without them and was grateful for them all.

Damian glanced over his shoulder and met her gaze. "I know. But it's a wonder I turned out straight. I mean, what man in his right mind grows up around all those women and wants to be with more?" He shot her his most charming grin.

Micki nearly melted on the spot. She wished she could dislike everything about him, but the more she learned, the more impressed she became.

His home appealed to her as well. The decor exuded as much warmth as the man. Based on the combination of neutral colors and obviously personal touches, Micki guessed that his sisters and not a professional stranger had decorated. That he allowed the women in his life to dominate in such an intimate way told her much about the kind of man he was inside.

He was obviously indulgent with his sisters even now. To continue to have patience for a bunch of women after growing up around them was a miracle in Micki's opinion. No wonder he connected with Uncle Yank in a way that transcended the agent-client relationship. Otherwise he wouldn't have stepped in and brought Micki down here at Yank's request

With her new understanding, Micki couldn't stay angry at Damian any longer. Though he'd violated her wishes and sense of independence, he'd more than made up for it in other ways. He'd put her needs before his date's last night and ahead of his professional obligations to the Renegades today. She knew he'd be meeting with a specialist while on this trip, but in Micki's mind that didn't negate all he'd done on her behalf.

In two short days, she'd learned he was more than the successful athlete that New York adored and he possessed so much more substance than he let on to the press. What else would she learn if she stayed for a while at this island getaway?

She bit the inside of her cheek. Why not experience the fantasies she'd been suppressing since New Year's Eve? The idea popped into her head unbidden and, once there, took hold. She could not allow herself to fall harder for the man. And she wouldn't, not as long as she escaped the island before her feelings got any more complicated. A short stay couldn't hurt. A brief indulgence wouldn't jeopardize her heart.

Hadn't Roper suggested she step up to the plate if she wanted Damian? And hadn't she undergone a lesson in being more feminine in order to attract his attention? She'd be a coward if she ran away now.

She could stay and take advantage or she could take a flight out tomorrow and probably spend the rest of her life wondering what if.

Micki decided immediately. She wasn't into regrets.

DAMIAN SHOWED MICKI to the room his sisters usually used, figuring she would be most comfortable there. It helped his peace of mind knowing she had her own bathroom, which lessened the chance of him running into her in the middle of the night, half-dressed and utterly desirable.

"Help yourself to any clothes you find in the closet." He wasn't ready to tell her that their suitcases had been accidentally redirected to New York and wouldn't be arriving anytime soon.

She raised an eyebrow. "Left behind by all your women?" she asked, with a challenge in her voice he'd never heard before and he immediately went on alert.

Knowing he'd regret the admission, he replied truthfully anyway. "Except for my sisters, I don't bring women down here."

"What does that make me?" she asked, stepping closer. And closer still.

He inhaled, breathing in her fragrant shampoo, an arousing, tantalizing scent that gave him a damn hard-on every time she was nearby. "I think you already understand what I meant."

He wasn't about to enlighten her further or force himself to think about what bringing her here signified. "I need to go into town to fill the fridge. If you want to come along, be downstairs in half an hour."

She nodded. "I can't go out looking like this." She gestured to the sweats she'd chosen to fly down in because they were comfortable. "I guess that'll give me enough time to checkout your sisters' tastes in clothes"

Damian nodded, unable to suppress a grin. He knew his sisters' tastes all right Nice and conservative. Mom-type clothing. Non threatening outfits that wouldn't have him drooling over Micki however long they remained on his island.

Half an hour later, she walked down the stairs wearing slacks and a camisole. A sexy curve-hugging getup. Damian clenched his jaw shut tight.

The black pants had to be part spandex, what with the way they began at her waist, then molded to her butt and thighs, falling in a long silhouette over her legs. And her top, if he could call it that, was a turquoise tank in a silky, stretchy material with a subtle flower pattern hidden in the fabric. It ended at her midriff, leaving an open expanse of skin for him to see. And want to touch. Then there was the belt tied in a perfect bow over her flat stomach. All he could do was imagine her as a gift he couldn't wait to unwrap.

"You really have to thank your sisters for me," she said as she jumped down the last two steps.

He grumbled in reply. If these sexy pieces were his sisters' clothes, Damian sure as hell had never seen them wearing anything like them. He'd been blindsided and it pissed him off.

If Micki noticed his foul mood, she didn't mention it. Instead she happily bounced out to the Jeep. On the ride mere, she chatted about the blue skies, the gorgeous trees and how fortunate he was to have a retreat on the island. She was no longer upset to be here and damned if he knew why.

This time he was silent as they drove in the Wrangler. He was preoccupied, his thoughts on how he'd deal with her seductive look and her sex appeal, which she seemed suddenly determined to turn his way.

Micki glanced out of the corner of her eye at Damian's tense expression. She'd thrown him off guard but that was her plan. He didn't need to know that she had seduction on her mind or that she'd called her sister Sophie for advice.

His contained feelings told Micki he'd yet to figure out how he wanted to handle her. The attraction between them was real, but so was his fear of the kind of woman Micki was. A woman who knew her mind, understood what she wanted, and one he feared wouldn't accept a one-night stand.

Tonight he'd discover she'd accept whatever he was willing to offer. She'd also accept the possibility that they'd leave the island and never acknowledge what had transpired between them again. But she was even more willing to accept the possibility that, just maybe, she'd touch Damian in a way no woman had before.

For Micki, it was a win-win situation. A hot affair that was long overdue or a longer relationship if Damian was interested. She could handle either, she promised herself. She had no choice if she was going to follow through with her plan of no regrets.

In town, the streets were small, the facades bright. Quaint storefronts popped in bright pastel colors with basic names, like Pops Grocery and Your Neighborhood Drug Store. An ice-cream cart was propped between the two stores and outside the front of each she noticed empty benches where she imagined friendly townsfolk sat and passed time.

Damian pulled the Jeep to the curb outside the grocery store. Micki hopped out and went in ahead of him. She wanted to help out by buying some of the food and wanted to give him some space. She shopped quickly, picking some of her favorite staple items, assuming she'd be here for a couple of days before heading home to New York.

She rounded the aisle near the register when she heard Damian's voice.

"How are you doing, Pops?" he asked.

"Good, good. Summer's generally rough, what with the snowbirds sticking close to home, but we're getting by."

"Glad to hear it. How's the missus?"

The man named Pops made a snorting noise. "How do you think? Giving me a hard time over nothing which means she's the same and just fine."

Damian laughed, a sexy sound that rippled along Micki's nerve endings. "I'll take that to mean you're misbehaving. Smoking, drinking, giving her reason to worry."

"She's not happy unless she's nagging."

"And you love her." Damian's voice held a warmth she'd only heard when he'd spoken of his family.

"Tell her and I strangle you. How's the wrist?" Pops asked. "I saw the game. That was a fantastic catch. Made me damn proud to know you."

Damian slapped the older man on the back. "Thanks. The wrist will be just fine and I'll be playing in October" he promised.

Micki whispered a silent prayer he was right. Not because of the bonus clause negotiated by her uncle that promised Damian big money if the Renegades made each successive play-off, but because he so obviously loved the game.

"Eavesdropping?" Damian had silently come up beside her.

She yelped and dropped the container of yogurt she was holding. "No," she lied, caught in the act. "I was just checking the expiration date."

"Uh-huh." A disbelieving grin tipped his lips.

She studied him, noticing a more relaxed expression on his face. Less tension, fewer stress lines. "You seem to be in a better mood."

He shrugged. "Appearances can be deceiving. I’m still trying to figure you out."

"I had you so confused it affected your mood? I'm flattered." She couldn't help but grin.

"Don't be. You're a female, hence you were put on this earth to perplex men."

Micki was oddly flattered by his comment. After all, he'd called her a female and she'd worked hard for him to notice her in that way.

She glanced at her half-full cart. "I've gotten what I need for the next few days." She kept her eyes focused on him, watching for his reaction.

"Next few days?" His gaze darted to hers. "When did that happen?"

She attempted a casual shrug. "You and my uncle thought I should stay here until the scandal blew over. I decided you both had a valid point"

"The hell you did. For some reason I can't begin to understand, you decided you want to stay. What we think has nothing to do with it."

So he already knew her that well, did he? Telling him the truth wouldn't hurt. "I decided I'd be a fool to leave paradise too soon." She just didn't intend to define paradise, which wasn't just this island but anywhere Damian Fuller happened to be.

"I might buy that excuse if you hadn't been champing at the bit to leave here, if not today then first thing tomorrow. What changed?"

"Everything." She shot him a big smile. "So did you pick up what you needed or do you have to do more shopping?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"I have to shop," he said through gritted teeth.

"Okay I'll just wait upfront." She started to push her cart forward but he stuck a foot out, stopping her.

"Don't get too friendly with the locals," he warned her.

"Why not? Do they bite?"

"Funny," he muttered, grabbing her cart, and then took off down the aisle.

She didn't know how or when, but the teasing and flirting with Damian had suddenly become second nature. It came easily in a way it hadn't before.

She wondered what had changed beyond her dress, and realized it was her perspective. Not just of herself as a woman capable of attracting this man, but of Damian himself. He was no longer an icon she feared or a guy with no substance who wouldn't give her a second glance. Now that she viewed him as a man with thoughts and feelings, she could treat him the same way she did the other men in her world, like Roper or her clients. Except for that added attraction, of course.

She could easily become addicted to the sensations taking over her body. She'd seen his reaction to her as she'd come down the stairs. Seen it in his eyes and seen it in his pants. As much as she blushed at the thought, she reveled in the attention so long denied.

She'd already been fortunate in his sisters' choice of clothing. Obviously the items in the closets and drawers were chosen with their husbands in mind. Micki doubted they brought those pieces for trips with their kids in tow. Especially the brand new lingerie with tags still attached. She planned to wear one tonight and would be happy to leave payment and a note of thanks, she thought wryly. No way would she give Damian advance notice of her intent. Micki was counting on the heat of the moment to carry them away.

Since she was already driving Damian insane, she decided to listen to him and not talk to anyone in the store. Instead she walked outside, purchased a snow cone and settled onto one of the benches she'd seen earlier.

On her first lick, the frozen ice reminded her of the days she and her sisters would buy this kind of treat when they were young. She curled her legs beneath her and sucked the juice from the cone, letting the cold refreshment ease the humidity and heat clinging to her skin. She shut her eyes and just enjoyed, hoping this was the first of many more pleasurable activities to come.

DAMIAN HEADED for the grocery store exit. His bags weren't in hand since Pops never allowed him to load his own car and Damian had long since stopped arguing. The older man thought that since baseball was America's favorite pastime, it was somehow his duty to serve Damian. Pops was a stubborn cuss and Damian had no choice but to give in. Unfortunately that meant it would be a little while before Pops got all the bags into the Jeep.

Damian stepped out into the heat of a sticky summer afternoon that was quickly turning to evening and immediately saw Micki. She sat on one of the benches he'd never paid much attention to until now and enjoyed a basic summer pleasure, one usually reserved for kids. But the woman eating the snow cone wasn't a child and the images she evoked as her tongue worked at the rounded head of the cone were for adults only.

Her eyes shut tight, her tongue covered the ice as she delicately licked the treat, then followed with her lips as she drew the snow cone into her mouth. Sucking. Pulling. Drawing every last drop inside her mouth and down her throat.

His groin tightened at the sight and the erotic visions that filled his mind weren't a huge leap. Not for a man on the edge of sanity.

A jarring, noisy sound broke his concentration and he looked up to see Pops walk out, pushing the shopping cart filled with his bags of groceries. At least he wasn't planning to carry the load to the Jeep one bag at a time.

'I noticed she's with you." Pops angled his head Micki's way.

Damian cleared his throat. "My agent's daughter."

"That's what I call mixin' business with pleasure."

Damian couldn't tell if Pops was issuing condemnation or just statement of fact. "What makes you think it's more than just business?"

"I saw the Post," Pops said. "And the News. You know we get it flown in late."

"Yeah." Damian knew. He'd just pushed the article out of his mind, hoping his island retreat was far enough away to forget things for a little while.

"You never brought anyone down here before." Pops pierced Damian with his best silvery-eyed stare.

"Never had to, but she needed a place to hide out till the speculation died down." Damian squinted into the late-afternoon sun, wondering when the inquisition would be over.

"I dunno what that craziness is about, but she looks like a nice enough girl. Mary said she reminds her of Ronnie," he said, referring to Damian's baby sister.

Normally that kind of statement would kill any building desire. When it didn't, Damian realized that Micki had a more powerful hold than he liked.

He glanced at Pops. "That ought to convince you I'm just doing a favor for a friend." For added luck, Damian crossed his fingers behind his back.

"Yeah well, Mary also said she looks like a keeper."

As if Pops knew the conversation was over, he pushed the cart toward the Jeep.

Damian looked over at their topic of discussion. Oblivious, Micki had begun licking the liquid dripping from the bottom of the cone.

Drawing a deep breath, Damian strode over and cleared his throat.

She glanced up, red juice on her chin.

"Ready to hit the road?" he asked.

She'd been sitting cross-legged and, on hearing his voice, her feet hit the floor. "Ready." She glanced around. "Is there a garbage pail near here?"

He took the paper wrapper from her hand, walked to the curb and tossed it in the trash. Pops, he'd noticed, was still loading the groceries into the back of the Jeep.

Micki, in the meantime, had begun licking her fingers and he couldn't resist the temptation to stare as she sucked the juice off her fingertips one by one.

When she met his gaze, her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. "Sticky," she explained.

He swallowed a reply that would surely have involved him offering to take over the job for her. "Let's go," he said gruffly.

He needed a cold drink and his big-screen TV where he could watch a game and distract himself from this woman. As if such a tiling were even possible, he thought, wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into.