Hot Number (Hot Zone Book 2)

by Carly Phillips

  Half an hour later, she walked downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, she saw a note from Rosa telling them that she had left premade meals in the freezer.

  One sniff informed Micki that Damian hadn’t made coffee yet, so she set up a pot and waited for him to emerge from the basement gym where he was meeting with the doctor. She made herself a quick egg-white omelet and after she’d eaten and cleaned up, she decided she could no longer avoid calling her sisters.

  She started with Annie since she wanted to check on her and the baby. She pulled out her cell phone, dialed and soon had her oldest sibling on the line.

  “Good morning, big Sister. How are you?” Micki’s heart pounded in her chest as she waited for the reply.

  “Baby and I are doing fine.”

  From the upbeat tone of Annabelle’s voice, Micki believed her and she forced air back into her lungs. “You’d better follow doctor’s orders and rest, no matter how hard it is for you to do nothing.” While she spoke, Micki rummaged around for cleaning supplies and then wiped the countertops with Windex until they shone.

  “I wouldn’t put my anal personality before my baby’s health. Besides, Vaughn’s around 24/7 to make sure I’m a good girl.”

  “You’re never good,” Micki heard Vaughn joke in the background. “Say hi to your sister and reassure her I’m taking good care of you, babe,” he said.

  Micki smiled. In the time since Annie had married Brandon Vaughn, he’d grown on all the sisters. He was the brother Micki had never had. After all the years Annie had spent being the caretaker for Micki and Sophie, Micki was grateful her sister had found someone to cater to her for a change. Though she envied Annie and Vaughn, she didn’t begrudge her sister her happiness.

  Annabelle chatted about sonograms and bed rest, and Micki realized that while Annie had always been the caretaker, Micki had been taken care of. Micki wanted to be a caregiver, a mother one day. She hoped she’d eventually find a man, a partner who wanted to share her life and give her the traditional family unit she’d never had.

  Suddenly Micki glanced around Damian’s kitchen where she’d made herself at home. And she forced herself to remember that Damian would not be that man.

  “So how’s your forced trip to paradise?” Annie asked, her voice filled with concern.

  Micki felt a smile work its way onto her face. “Actually, not as bad as I thought. Turns out that after partying too hard and the PR fiasco, I needed some R & R after all. And…” Micki prepared herself to admit more to her sister when the sound of male voices and footsteps reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

  “Micki?” her sister asked.

  “And I decided to see what paradise has to offer.” Paradise meaning Damian, she thought, just as he entered the room with the orthopedist by his side.

  Micki rushed her sister off the phone, promising to call back later. Heart pounding hard in her chest, she turned to meet Damian’s gaze, not knowing what she’d find there.

  He caught her questioning stare with a smoldering one of his own, the heat in his dark eyes telling her he hadn’t forgotten last night. And the sudden smile that lit up his face indicated he didn’t regret it either. Her heart melted at the sight of him and the honesty she saw there.

  “Dr. Maddux, I’d like you to meet Micki Jordan, publicist extraordinaire. Micki, meet Dr. Maddux, bearer of bad news.” Damian swept his hand through the air in a meaningless gesture, yet the words he uttered were anything but.

  “Thanks for coming, Doc.” Damian spared a glance at Micki. “I’m going to walk him to the car that’s taking him back to the airport.”

  She bit down on her lip and nodded. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Damian’s words had been vague, but decidedly negative. The next few minutes felt like a lifetime, leaving her on edge, flexing and unflexing her fingertips and pacing the floors. Finally, the front door slammed hard and Damian rejoined her in the kitchen.

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “Who’s asking? Micki the team publicist or—”

  “Micki your friend, and I think you know that.” She reminded herself that it was his pain causing him to question her loyalty.

  He lowered his gaze. “I have tendinitis. Nothing some time off and immobility won’t cure,” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He raised his injured hand, pointing out the brace he’d been wearing.

  Since that seemed like positive news, Micki knew there had to be more. “And?”

  “And the numbness is probably a result of carpal tunnel syndrome. You know, repetitive motions, such as throwing, exacerbates it. After reviewing the X-rays, the bone density and the MRI results, and after a physical examination, the good doc said he also sees strong evidence of arthritis, which weakens the bones and will begin to give me aggravation down the line. Not too far down the line because the wrist is pretty fragile. So are the rest of the bones.” He grimaced. “Welcome to old age.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Thirty-five wasn’t ancient, but she’d heard it many times. Athletes counted age like dog years. “You aren’t finished for the season, are you?”

  He shook his head.

  “That’s good. Though when you are, I know Uncle Yank has plenty of post-game work lined up for you. Or at least he’s got some good ideas percolating.”

  Damian stared in wonder at her. He’d had crappy news and this woman wasn’t pitying him. She was looking on the bright side.

  “A good-looking guy like you, with all your sports knowledge, is pretty marketable, you know,” she said in a deliberately smart-ass tone and patted his cheek with her hand.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. She’d just showered and her hair smelled fresh and clean and her body was warm and willing, just as she’d been last night. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck, wishing he could bury his problems as easily and as pleasurably.

  He slid his fingers into the back pockets of her pants, cupping her rear and nestling his groin into the sweet V of her legs. “These jeans fit you like a glove.”

  “Your sisters are all different sizes, but luckily I have an average body type that fits most anything.”

  He heard the self-deprecation in her tone and knew it was tied in with her tomboy image and her impression that, somehow, she was less feminine than her sisters. He knew differently. It was time she did, too. He might not be able to help himself, but he could help Micki.

  “You are anything but average,” he said in a gruff voice and, in case she wasn’t sure or didn’t believe him, he rolled his hips, letting her feel the bulging erection that she’d caused.

  She moaned in pleasure, a pleasure he understood. He’d walked into the kitchen, Dr. Maddux’s words weighing heavily on his mind while his future and his career crashed down around him. And then he’d taken one look at Micki wearing a tight pair of faded jeans and a sunny yellow shirt and his mood had lifted. Just like that.

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel good,” she said.

  He shook his head, determined to win this argument. “I’ve been with many women—”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” she said wryly.

  “And none has inspired me to do this.” He stepped back, unsnapped his pants, then dropped and kicked them to one side of the room, along with his boxers, revealing his thick cock to her gaze.

  “Damian!”

  “You know the old expression, if you can’t take the heat?”

  “Oh, I can take it.” She raised her hands to the bottom of her snug T-shirt and yanked it over her head. Same see-through bra as yesterday, pushing up her full breasts enticingly. His throat tightened as need pummeled him hard.

  Nodding his approval, he added his shirt to their growing pile. Her jeans came next, her bra and finally her panties.

  She faced him without reaching for cover. He knew how difficult it must be to pretend she had no insecurities and he respected her all the more for making the attempt.

&
nbsp; He couldn’t tear his gaze from her full breasts and the well-groomed blond triangle of hair that beckoned to him. “You take my breath away.”

  “I know,” she said, her stare focused on his dick, which was thicker and harder than ever before.

  “I’m glad I made my point.”

  She merely nodded, and in the silence that followed, the air around them was dense with desire.

  He picked her up and settled her on the kitchen table. Her eyes grew wide as her body came in contact with the wooden surface and she shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked, though he already knew. Her nipples had puckered and he reached out to roll one between his thumb and forefinger until she shut her eyes tight and moaned aloud.

  “Which is it? Are you hot? Or are you cold?” he asked in a teasing voice.

  She met his gaze. “You are so bad. I may be hot for you, but the tabletop’s freezing.”

  “Then let me warm you.”

  Her gaze never leaving his, she lowered herself back until she rested on her elbows. Her breasts thrust upward, tempting him to lick and taste. But Damian wanted her hotter than he’d had her before.

  He pulled her closer to the end of the table and spread her legs wide, stepping in between her thighs. Her sex was moist, glistening with her juices.

  “Damian,” she said, her voice uncertain.

  He was anything but. “Relax,” he told her. He sat in the nearest chair and eyed her as if he were taking in a feast. Her thighs quivered and he sensed her tension. He didn’t want her uptight, he just plain wanted her and knew just how to make her forget her insecurities.

  He positioned himself directly in front of where she sat, legs open wide, waiting for him to take her. And he did. He leaned forward and slicked his tongue deep inside her waiting pussy.

  Micki sucked in a startled gasp. She couldn’t believe she was spread out on Damian’s table, but her mortification gave way to complete and utter pleasure when his mouth made contact with her there. It felt so good, so right, she let out a loud sigh and gave up control, trusting Damian completely.

  His tongue was wet, warm and giving as it slid over her folds. She experienced the glide of his tongue, mouth and, if she wasn’t mistaken, his teeth. In and out, back and forth. She breathed in deeply and nearly passed out from the drugging sensations overtaking her body.

  Without warning, he added his hand to his repertoire. His flat palm was hard against her sex as he began working her in a circular motion. The friction of his hand brought her instantly to the brink. Her hips rose and she jerked her sex against him, pressing her pussy into his hand and his mouth. His tongue dipped deep inside her and his fingertip touched her clit.

  She needed more—stronger, deeper contact—and he understood without her asking. He suckled her harder with his mouth, pulling on her sensitive flesh, nibbling on the tiny bud as her arousal built higher and higher.

  She was so close and so out of control. Her hips rolled and her limbs trembled as she rode his mouth with abandon. “I can’t—” The words ripped from her throat as her body bucked and sought a pinnacle it couldn’t quite find.

  “Yes, baby, you can. Get up.” He pulled her upright, and while she came forward, she heard the crinkling of foil as he took care of protection.

  She didn’t care where the condom had come from, she was just grateful he’d been prepared. Then she was off the table and in his arms, sitting astride him. Her legs bracketed his. Skin against skin, his thick cock pressed hard into her thigh.

  “Work with me, okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. At this point she’d agree to anything.

  He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her up so the tip of his erection was poised at her entry. “You’re killing me,” she told him.

  “But you’ll die happy,” he said in a husky voice.

  She laughed, then, leaning forward, kissed him, sucking his lips into her mouth and teasing him, too.

  Seconds later, he reached out, his fingers finding her and spreading her slick moisture over her sex. When he pushed one finger inside her, she sucked in a breath. Another finger joined the first and she gasped.

  Then he removed his fingers and replaced it with his cock, thrusting upward at the same moment she pressed her hips down hard so he filled her completely. Thick and hard, she felt every silken ridge and each delectable inch. She closed her eyes and rocked against him, slowly at first, back and forth and then in a circular direction, each motion rubbing her pubic bone against him and making the spiraling sensations mount and build as she picked up a frenzied pace.

  Somehow he managed to pump his hips upward and each thrust was in perfect synchronization with her need. She threaded her fingers through his hair and held on, kissing him when she could and just plain hanging on for the ride.

  As he took her higher and higher, her world was reduced to nothing more or less than the point where their bodies joined. Her breath caught in her throat and she clenched her muscles tight around him. And finally he took her over the edge. Her entire being shook as she came, feelings and emotions colliding with physical sensations that she thought would never end.

  Aftershocks shook her body, but eventually the world around Micki came into focus. Her head was buried in Damian’s neck and he held on to her waist, still deep inside her.

  She tipped her head back and met his gaze. Heavy-lidded and breathing raggedly, he managed to treat her to a sexy smile. “Very nice.”

  She felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks and tried to stand, but he held on tight. “In a rush?” he asked.

  “No. It’s just—”

  “You’re not used to anything like this.” One arm swept around the kitchen, encompassing the table and their chair.

  She laughed. “You could say that.”

  “It’s not a habit of mine, either.” His voice was gruff, his gaze deep and serious as he smoothed his hands over her unruly curls. “You just make me crazy.”

  She swallowed hard. So he’d said, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around this man wanting her so badly. “It was definitely good sex,” she said, deliberately belittling what had just occurred.

  Damian shook his head. “There’s sex, and then there’s sex.”

  Which meant what? she wondered. What did he want from her? Right now she was off balance, shaken by the intensity of the encounter and the feelings she was developing for him. She wanted to put her clothes back on and gain some sort of leverage at least in her own mind.

  He’d have to step up first, Micki decided. If there was more to this for him than a quick lay, he’d have to admit as much to her. “And which kind of sex did we just have?” she asked casually. She hoped.

  The phone rang, cutting off any answer he might have had. She jumped off him, grabbed her clothes and scrambled for the bathroom, leaving Damian to answer the call naked.

  * * *

  Damian figured he’d never again look at the kitchen table or any meal he ate there the same way. He hung up the phone and pulled on his jeans, then picked up the rest of his clothes and headed for the shower. Anything to avoid telling Micki that it had been Coach Donovan on the phone. The doctor had filled management in on his condition and he had to regain control, convince them he was fine. He’d promised to return in twenty-four hours.

  Which meant one more day with Micki.

  He waited for her to shower and met her in the hallway. “Want to go for a drive?”

  She met his gaze. “Sure. Care to tell me where we’re going?”

  He grabbed her hand, but not before taking the time to ogle her legs and amazing body in the ruffled black miniskirt and tie-dyed tank top she wore. “You really ought to dress up more often. It brings out the real you.”

  She tipped her head to one side, the damp curls hitting her shoulders. “How so?”

  “This skirt is lively and fun. Like you. The top is flirty and sexy. Also like you.”

  He braced his hand on the wall over her head and leaned close, inhaling the fresh, fragran
t scent of her shampoo and savoring the excitement pulsing through his veins at the thought of spending another day alone with her. They might only have twenty-four hours, but he intended to enjoy each one with no thought or pressure of his real life intruding.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you see what you want to see?” she asked through glossy lips.

  He studied her for a moment. “I see what the problem is.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “I didn’t know there was one.”

  “Just because you’ve outwardly made a transformation in how you dress, and just because my sisters’ choice in clothing helps you along, doesn’t mean you’re used to it in here.” He tapped the left side of her chest, above her heart.

  She swallowed hard. “Am I that easy to read?”

  “Only because I’m looking. I want to know all about you and I’m glad you’re making it simple.”

  She squared her shoulders.

  Obviously that notion bugged her.

  “So, you didn’t tell me where we’re going,” she said, changing the subject.

  “I’m going to show you around my part of the island.”

  A sudden smile took hold and he caught sight of two dimples in both of her cheeks.

  “What’s got you grinning all of a sudden?” he asked.

  “Finally, you’ll be the one doing the sharing and I’ll get to know more about you.” She tugged on his hand like a kid anxious to get going.

  “And this pleases you?” he asked, following her down the stairs and out the front door.

  “Tremendously.” She swung herself into the passenger seat of the Jeep and honked the horn. “Let’s go, slowpoke!”

  He laughed. The woman confounded him, astounded him. She aroused him and made him want to share. He’d never shown some parts of this retreat to anyone, male or female, not even his parents or sisters, but he wanted to share them with Micki.

  He slid into the car, started the engine and they were on their way, only stopping at Pops’ to pick up soda and sandwiches for lunch. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a secluded part of the island where he’d bought undeveloped land and put his own stamp on it.