Hot Number (Hot Zone Book 2)

by Carly Phillips

  No matter how many times he made this trip, he still marveled at the beauty of this island, the lush palm trees, the blue sky dotted with perfect white clouds and the warm sticky air blowing on his skin.

  Beside him, he could practically feel Micki quiver with anticipation and excitement. He enjoyed how much pleasure she took in exploring his island and appreciated that she didn’t talk and pepper him with questions during the ride. Instead she remained silent beside him, as if she understood he desired quiet time and respected him enough to give him what he needed.

  Most of all he was grateful for their ability to enjoy a comfortable sense of peace together, something he knew from overhearing his sisters was a rare gift between two people. He’d just never found that sense of rightness with any woman before.

  He glanced over. Micki had shut her eyes and tipped her head back to let the sun bake her face as they drove. He admired her profile, the pert nose and the full lips he’d already learned by kissing, tasting and completely devouring. And he had to admit life felt pretty good right now.

  Even if it was only temporary. His stomach plunged at the necessary reminder and the field came into view just in time, so he wouldn’t have to think.

  “We’re here.” Damian pulled up behind a metal backstop.

  He’d wanted to share this with Micki, yet he couldn’t shake the fact that by bringing her here, he felt stripped bare and vulnerable in a way he couldn’t understand.

  Well, too late to back out now, since they’d already arrived. Before she could ask questions, he hopped out of the car and strode to her side, helping her out. Together they walked toward his personal baseball field, complete with a pitcher’s mound and all the requisite bases.

  She turned to face him, curiosity etched all over her expressive face. “If you build it, they will come?” Her blue eyes flashed with questions he didn’t have specific answers to.

  He merely chuckled in reply. “I guess, except that in my case, there is no they.”

  “You built this for…?” She gestured toward the professional-size field.

  “Me.” His reply sounded ridiculous to his own ears, except it was the truth. “Growing up, I couldn’t think of anything better than having my own place to hit a ball.”

  “Your own personal ball field.”

  He nodded. “So when I made the money, I built the field.”

  “At which point you could say you had everything you ever dreamed of?” she asked, too perceptively for his peace of mind.

  “Not nearly.” Looking into her gorgeous eyes, the reply had slipped out without permission. He sucked in a deep breath, but he couldn’t take the words back, nor could he deny their meaning.

  Not when he realized that now, at this moment, in his sacred spot with Micki, he had everything he’d never let himself dream of wanting.

  He reached out and caressed her cheek with his hand. “You make it hard for me to concentrate on anything but you,” he said, letting her into his innermost thoughts.

  “That’s what happens in paradise.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?” she asked.

  “Denying your own power. When I complimented you earlier, you squirmed and changed the subject, and when I say you distract me, you deny you’re the cause.” He let his thumb brush back and forth over her jaw. “I think that’s why you draw me so much. You don’t know nearly how much you can affect a man.”

  Her skin flushed pink beneath the summer sun. “You’re a charmer, Damian.”

  “Can I take that as a compliment?” he asked, grinning.

  “You can take it any way you want.” Micki laughed despite how off center he had her feeling. He was right, of course. She wasn’t used to compliments and intense stares from a man like Damian. A weekend like this was the stuff of dreams and she was happy to be here with him now.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

  She blinked and refocused on his handsome face. “This field. I’m wondering about your motives in having it built.”

  “You doubt I’d indulge my own childhood dreams?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t doubt his obvious motives. It was his subconscious ones that had her curious. “Are you sure you didn’t build this for your own team?”

  He let loose with a laugh. “Hell, I never want to be an owner. Too many damn hassles.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you buying a professional team. I was talking about a different kind of legacy. I thought maybe you’d built this with your own kids in mind.”

  In the silence that followed, Micki wondered if she’d gone too far.

  “I never gave it a thought,” he said at last.

  “You never thought about having kids that followed in your footsteps? Having kids at all?”

  “I never left room in my mind for a family. Hell, I never left room for it in my life.” He tipped his head to one side. “How about you?”

  “Oh, I definitely want a family,” she said honestly. “When you lose your parents as I did, you know how much you missed growing up. I want that security for myself one day. You know, mother and father and kids. It’s like setting all things right in the universe,” she murmured, then realized how childish she sounded. “It’s not everyone’s dream,” she admitted.

  “But it’s yours and I respect that.”

  She nodded. “What about after baseball? Have you thought about what you want after your ball-playing years are over?”

  He shook his head. “In the beginning, I was too young and cocky, too full of myself to think about things like my career ending one day.”

  “You? Cocky?” Micki couldn’t contain a wry laugh.

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” He laughed. “Anyway, for a long time I just concentrated on the here and now. On maintaining the status quo, which was pretty damn good. And now when I should be at least planning for the future, I’ve got all I can do to keep myself healthy and in the game.”

  She knew how much the admission cost him and she appreciated being let in. She grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, letting him know she understood.

  The aura around them had grown too serious, too intense, and Micki sought to break the tension. “Any chance you have a bat and ball in the back of the Jeep?”

  “I sure do.” His expression of pure relief told her he needed the break as much as she did.

  He returned with a bat, ball and mitt in hand. “You sure you can handle me?”

  Micki grinned. “Bring it on, bad boy.” Because if there was any place Micki was in her element, it was on the field. Any field. She loved sports and had always excelled, thanks to Uncle Yank’s expert tutelage.

  And for half an hour she held up her end fairly well. He might be a professional ballplayer and a big, strong man, but he was injured and, between her swing and her ability to catch and throw a good distance, she managed to impress him anyway. Enough to have him running around the field and out of breath.

  Finally, she realized he wasn’t going to quit first, so she dropped the ball she’d been about to pitch to him and wiped her sweaty palms together. “I’m starving,” she called over to where he was taking some practice swings at home plate.

  He leaned against the bat and eyed her with concern. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. Just hungry.”

  He gathered the equipment together and they loaded it back in the Jeep. After washing their hands with bottled water, they sat down and ate in a shady spot beneath a large tree. The sun beat down overhead, but the large leaves kept them from the worst of the heat and they enjoyed the turkey sandwiches Pops had made, along with the chocolate-chip cookies Micki had added to their bag.

  Full from food and exhausted from their workout, she raised her hands overhead and yawned.

  “Lie down.” He folded his legs beneath him and patted his thighs.

  “You’re a tough man to say no to.” She did as he suggested, stretching out so her head lay in his lap and h
er body stretched out on their large blanket.

  He massaged her temples with his fingertips and she relaxed, shutting her eyes and allowing herself to breathe easily.

  They spent an entire day in each other’s company doing nothing but just being together. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt more at ease. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more like herself. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. Or one that had ended so quickly.

  They returned to the house long after the sun had set. Damian dropped his keys in the kitchen and, yawning, Micki waited as he hit Play on the answering machine.

  First there was the usual litany of messages from his sisters and nieces, all of which she knew he’d return before they turned in for the night.

  Then she heard a vaguely familiar masculine voice break the peacefulness of their day. “Fuller, it’s Coach. Since you’re flying in tomorrow morning, I expect you in my office at four and suited up with the rest of the team tomorrow night.”

  Damian’s guilt-ridden eyes met hers. She didn’t have to ask why he hadn’t mentioned leaving before. Because if he had, they probably wouldn’t have shared the same kind of carefree day. She wouldn’t have seen his field of dreams and she definitely wouldn’t have let herself pretend their time together didn’t have to end.

  “You can stay as long as you want,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. It’s way past time I head home, too.” She put up a brave front, a pretense that this particular ending didn’t bother her at all.

  Ironic that she’d been coerced into coming to the island in the first place and now she didn’t want to leave.

  * * *

  Damian awoke with Micki in his arms. On the nightstand were two crinkled foil packets, evidence that he’d been inside her hot, wet body, not once but twice last night. And not quickly or frantically either. Instead, their joinings had been slow and leisurely, so neither one of them would be likely to forget this time on the island.

  Now, Damian watched Micki sleep. Her blond curls were tousled around her face, much as they’d been after she collapsed on top of him. He liked when she was on top because he knew she was controlling the pace, sometimes squeezing her thighs together and milking him for all she was worth, and other times releasing so her mound ground into him at just the right spot, all so she could make her climax and his that much stronger. In a few short days, he knew her that well.

  She’d come to know him, too. Enough that when she’d heard the coach’s voice, she hadn’t condemned him for not leveling with her sooner. She hadn’t complained about him having to leave. Not a single pout or whine, he thought. Micki didn’t do any of the things that bothered him in other women, and yet a part of him wished she would.

  So he could find an excuse to walk away with no guilt? No regrets? No second thoughts? He’d have plenty of those, Damian knew, because leaving her was the last thing he wanted to do.

  And leaving her was exactly what he had to do in order to preserve what remained of his career. If this time had taught him anything, it was that he’d been right about his inability to split his focus. When he was with Micki, he didn’t give the game a second thought. Not even with Carter belting home runs and breathing down his neck.

  He had to return to New York and deal with his life. Beyond the recent injury, he had the ongoing issue of arthritis to deal with and a talk with Yank was overdue.

  It was time he faced the painful fact that this season, or next if he wanted to push it, should be his last. He’d buried the truth, as well as himself, inside Micki’s willing body last night, but the sun shining through the bedroom blinds was a wake-up call he couldn’t miss. A wake-up regarding many things. His career was just one of them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On the plane ride home, Micki feigned sleep because it was easier than making small talk while looking at Damian’s handsome face. They’d had their fling and it had been more than she’d ever dreamed of.

  Yet it was time she faced a few harsh realities. Yes, she and Damian had shared some amazing, special, magical moments. Intimate moments, and not all of them sexual, she thought, recalling their time on his baseball field. Yet obviously nothing he’d experienced with Micki had distinguished her from any of the other women in his life. Otherwise they wouldn’t be on the verge of saying goodbye, she thought as Damian walked her to the limo she’d arranged to pick her up from the airport. She didn’t want him to feel responsible for her for a second longer than necessary.

  The truth hurt because despite knowing the score going in, she’d hoped for more from Damian. She wasn’t going to get it. Time to move on with some great memories and enough of a confidence boost to send her into the dating world with a new look, new image and new attitude. And maybe she had some swampland she could sell herself and call it paradise.

  Standing by her car, Micki turned to Damian. The least she could do was hold her head high while she proved to him she’d meant it when she’d said all she wanted was a short affair and she was enough of a grown-up to walk away with her pride intact.

  Damian met her gaze, a serious expression on his face. “Micki—”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to hear him belittle their time together. It was a turning point in her life and she’d never regret it.

  “Thanks for kidnapping me.” She didn’t have to force a smile. Around Damian, it came easily.

  “My pleasure.” His voice held a sincerity that took her off guard.

  “Don’t be too hard on Carter,” Micki said, covering a subject she knew was important. “He’s young and stupid. He’ll defeat himself. People like him always do.”

  Admiration filled his gaze. “You’re smart.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass first chance I get,” she said, laughing. “I just don’t need you to do it for me.”

  “And you’re a tough lady, too.”

  She swallowed hard. “Sometimes I have to be.” She placed a hand on top of the open car door, ready to escape inside.

  He held her gaze as if willing her not to go.

  “When can you play?” she asked although they’d discussed it already.

  His expression tightened, his jaw clenched. “Another nine or ten days.”

  “Don’t push it and try to be a hero,” she warned him. “Ten days isn’t so bad.”

  He leaned closer. “Between us?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s that bad.”

  Micki understood he wasn’t just talking about the ten more days on the DL. His career was near the end and he was trusting her with that information. She’d never felt more connected to another human being, but there was little she could offer that he’d accept.

  “If you ever need me—you know, to help you spin a situation or just to vent—you know where to find me.” It was the best she could do.

  A sad smile took hold of his lips. “You’re special, Micki.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “Stop doing that.” He’d reached out and placed a finger over her lips. “Stop questioning yourself and how people look at you.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  “I am,” she agreed, laughing. Why was it this man, who wanted to give and receive nothing, was the one who understood her so well?

  “Well, next time you get the urge to fight a compliment, remember our weekend together, will you?”

  She had a hunch she’d be remembering him a lot sooner and more often than that.

  He reached out and hooked his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her close and sealed their lips in a kiss. One that was too fast and too brief—all too reminiscent of their time together.

  “I’ll do that.” Micki forced a nod. She turned away before he could read the emotion on her face and slipped into the back of the car.

  He shut the door for her and waved. “Take care.” She was
able to read his parting words on his lips.

  Once again, she couldn’t help but smile.

  * * *

  An hour after leaving Damian, Micki reached her apartment. She showered, changed and, since Sophie wasn’t in her place across the hall, Micki took a cab over to Uncle Yank’s. The doorman let her in and the elevator carried her to his penthouse apartment.

  She rang the bell and a set of chimes went off that were so loud they scared her to death and had her heart racing like mad. His dog, Noodle, a Labradoodle he’d purchased because of the breed’s intelligence and training in helping the blind, began a high-pitched bark that would wake the dead. A normal person would have bought a trained Lab, but not her uncle.

  Without warning, the door from the apartment across the hall swung open wide and an old woman in a brightly colored, decades-old sweatsuit strode outside, hands on her frail hips. “You tell that old man to muzzle the mutt and put a normal doorbell back on or I’m reporting him to the condo board, and don’t think I won’t.” She patted her set hair and slammed the door shut behind her.

  “And a good evening to you, Mrs. Murdoch,” Micki called to her uncle’s neighbor who’d lived there for years and was as likely to report her uncle as Micki was.

  The same door swung open wide again. “He was much more reasonable when Lola came around,” Mrs. Murdoch said.

  “We all agree with you.” Micki smiled at the older woman and eyed her uncle’s closed door. He knew she was coming, so where was he?

  “Well either he gets laid or he moves out. I’m not sure I can take much more of his obnoxious behavior. You tell him I said so, you hear?”

  Micki wondered if the older woman was actually offering her services and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Oh, I’ll tell him all right.”

  “Got to go. Jeopardy!’s on.” Mrs. Murdoch slammed the door shut again.

  Micki raised her hand to knock this time, when her uncle opened the door. “Sorry. I was in the john.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Too much information,” she said, greeting him with a kiss.

  “I can’t believe you’re back already. Is Damian that much of a dud?”