Hot Number (Hot Zone Book 2)

by Carly Phillips

  Never thought you were a coward. He didn’t know if the voice was referring to his eyesight or letting Lola go. Either way, that voice was right. But at least as far as his eyes went, he’d made a big decision, one all three girls would agree with.

  He decided he’d been acting like a pansy. Sophie had made him a doctor’s appointment first thing Monday morning. He intended to keep it. It was time for him to deal with his health because he couldn’t make any decisions about his personal life until that issue had been resolved.

  No woman will wait around that long.

  Maybe, Yank thought, but that was a risk he’d have to take.

  * * *

  Micki tapped her fingers against the armrest and stared out the window of Damian’s private jet, waiting for takeoff. He brought her a drink, Coke with lots of ice, and settled in beside her.

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because I really do appreciate you getting me home quickly, but why didn’t you go over to the camp and salvage what was left of the day? I could have gotten home myself.”

  He tipped his head to the side and met her gaze. “You said yourself, I’m a gentleman.”

  “And my uncle’s playing on that particular quality to get you to look out for me.” She let out a huff of breath. “I’m perfectly capable of taking myself home, you know. I certainly won’t make the same mistake twice.” Especially since most of last night was coming back to her—piece by humiliating piece.

  “Nobody blames you for what happened,” he assured her. “Now shut your eyes and get some sleep.” He patted her hand and the warmth caused her heart to skip a beat.

  She still wasn’t operating at one hundred percent and decided a nap was a good idea. When she woke, they were landing, the jarring noise of the engines and the atmospheric shift rousing her from sleep.

  Her head still ached as did her muscles. She stretched and glanced at Damian. “I feel like I’ve only been out about an hour.” She looked down at her watch. “I have only been sleeping for an hour. Why are we landing?” She gripped the armrests and her stomach flipped in sheer panic. “What’s wrong with the plane?”

  “Nothing,” he said in a soothing voice that would have worked—if she believed him.

  Micki glanced out the window at the landscape below. “There are palm trees down there, so either we’re making an emergency landing or we turned back to Florida or—”

  “We’re landing on a semi-private island,” he said, obviously telling her the truth.

  Micki stared first at the blue sky and southern landscape and then into Damian’s deep eyes. “I’m going to kill you and my uncle.” But right now, Damian was the only one within spitting distance. “How could you?”

  She shot him a scathing glare, not seeing the sexy man or the guy who’d been her savior. Instead she saw the man who’d betrayed her trust and discounted her ability to decide what was best for herself.

  “Micki—”

  “Turn the plane around,” she ordered.

  “I can’t. I promised your uncle I’d get you away for a while.”

  “What about what I want?”

  He shook his head. In his eyes, she saw true regret, but in the set of his jaw she read a determination to stay the course.

  “Then I’ll just leave on the next flight.” The plane, which had been taxiing, slowed to a stop.

  “There is no next flight unless I schedule one.” He rose from his seat and extended his arm toward her. “Come on. Let’s make the best of this.”

  She smacked his hand away and strode ahead of him, furious beyond words.

  “Welcome to paradise,” he said as he followed her out of the small plane.

  She ignored him and planned to do so for the foreseeable future.

  Once on the ground, Damian steered her directly to the hunter-green Jeep Wrangler waiting for them on the runway. He excused himself to see about the luggage, but returned five minutes later with an annoyed scowl on his face and no bags in his hands.

  “Where’s our luggage?” she asked.

  “Apparently, it’s still in Florida. Someone claiming to be me called and told the people at the terminal to hold on to it there.”

  Now Micki frowned. “And they didn’t find it odd that you didn’t want your suitcase on board along with you?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes I bring a bag, other times I don’t since I have clothing down here. It was a misunderstanding and there’s nothing we can do about it until the bags are flown in tomorrow.”

  “I don’t plan on being here long enough for that. As soon as you can arrange it, I want to go back to New York.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, obviously at his wits’ end. “How about we go back to my place and you can call your uncle and sister from there? Then you can figure out what you want to do. If it makes you happy, you can leave first thing tomorrow. You must be wiped out, so as long as you’re already here, use the time to get some rest.”

  She tapped her foot against the blacktop, the desire to head home warring with the temptation he offered. She might be furious, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t exhausted, too. Besides, she had to admit she was curious about this gorgeous retreat.

  “Okay, that’s fine,” she said, trying to sound grateful when all she really wanted was to strangle him and her uncle for manipulating her this way. “But I want you to arrange a flight out tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see.”

  As she climbed into his Jeep Wrangler she growled.

  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 checked his cell. He noticed seven messages. He began to play them on speaker.

  “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 me.”

  Micki laughed.

  “Uncle Damian, I need you. Mom won’t let me go to the movies with a guy. How ridiculous is that? You have to talk to her. Puhleeze!” The young 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. “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 check out 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. Nonthreatening 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 ass 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.