Hot Number (Hot Zone Book 2)

by Carly Phillips

  “Bye,” she murmured. With him standing so near, she could inhale his sexy masculine scent and take in his scruffy beard and rugged features up close one last time. Her heartbeat kicked into high gear as she struggled to hold back her emotions.

  His steady gaze met hers. For a man who’d just been given a reprieve, he didn’t look relieved. But if she asked what was bothering him, she’d be investing herself in his life again and she’d struggled too hard to protect herself from those feelings.

  If she didn’t put up barriers first, he was bound to wake up and distance himself from her sooner or later.

  Better she have enough self-respect to make it sooner.

  * * *

  Damian was stinking drunk and he still didn’t feel a damn bit better. He’d headed to the bar after the 4:00 p.m. game where he’d suited up but hadn’t played. Not even a Renegades win helped his mood.

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” Carter said to the bartender and slid into the seat next to Damian.

  “Of all the bars in Manhattan you had to choose this one?” Damian asked.

  The other man shrugged. “What can I say? The Blue Season seemed to fit my mood.”

  That surprised Damian. “Things didn’t go well back at the doctor?”

  “Depends what you mean. Is the baby mine? Yeah.” And at the admission, a wide grin spread over Carter’s face. “Is Carole thrilled with the fact? Couldn’t tell you. She’s not interested in some big love story. In fact, she thinks I deserve better than her. How’s that for a laugh? If you ask me, we’re so damn alike we deserve each other.” With that, he finished his scotch in a few healthy gulps.

  Damian burst out laughing. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” But he felt for the guy. Damian gestured for another round.

  “So what’s with you?” Carter asked. “I thought you’d be celebrating your escape. Instead you look like a guy on a bender.”

  Damian stared into the golden liquid. “Go figure,” he muttered. “Because I sure as hell can’t.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed with the results.” Carter sounded appalled at the notion.

  With a shrug, Damian took another gulp of the fiery drink. “Like you said, depends on what you mean. Am I happy I’m not the father of Carole’s kid? Hell, yeah.” He shot a glance Carter’s way. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken.”

  “But are you looking at a happy man right now? Hell, no. The thing of it is, I have no idea why I’m not celebrating.”

  “I’m younger than you and I’ve done my share of stupid things, but I can still look at you and answer that question. It just depends if you want to hear what I have to say.”

  “Why not? It’s not like I have any answers.” Damian leaned on one elbow and stared into the eyes of the rookie, the kid poised to take his place on the team.

  Damian had accepted that now. He glanced down at his aching, braced wrist. He’d had no choice. “So what’s your take on my life?”

  “You’re looking at the end of your career and you hate it,” Carter said, shoving his chair back and himself out of Damian’s reach as he spoke.

  Damian chuckled. “I’m not going to hit you.”

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Go on.”

  Carter paused for a drink first. “Maybe you got used to the idea of having a kid. In general, you know? Not Carole’s kid, but one of your own. Maybe you thought it’d fill the void when you weren’t playing anymore.”

  “What the fuck are you, a shrink? I’ve never once considered the end of my career and I never thought about having kids.”

  “Not consciously, but what about unconsciously?” Carter asked.

  “You mean subconsciously.”

  The kid shrugged. “That, too.”

  Damian wiped a hand over his face and groaned. “I need air.”

  “What’d she say about you not being the father?” Carter asked, ignoring him.

  “Who?”

  Carter drew a deep breath and looked at Damian warily. “The hot little publicist, that’s who.”

  Damian shot to his feet and pulled Carter up by his shirt at the same time. “You talk about her like that again and you’re a dead man.”

  Carter held his hands up in front of him. “You said you wouldn’t hit me.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  He shook his head. “Whoa, man. Who’d have thought a stab in the dark would pay off? Look, Captain, anyone with eyes can see she means something to you. Except maybe you.” This time Carter actually ducked and headed for the door.

  “Good reflexes,” Damian called out to him, laughing despite himself.

  “Youth,” Carter called back from the doorway of the bar. “No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  If only Damian could dismiss the rookie’s pop psychology as easily.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Damian’s life was a mess. He needed fatherly advice, and for the first time, he couldn’t go to his own dad because his whole family was so thrilled about the baby being Carter’s, they couldn’t see past it to the deeper issues driving Damian insane. There was only one man Damian could trust with his emotions, and that was the same man he’d entrusted with his career right from the beginning.

  He strode into the rehab facility, an expensive establishment that Damian felt certain Yank must hate. The older man would despise feeling useless, needing help getting around, relying on other people. Man, Damian could relate.

  At a large window, he asked where to find Yank Morgan’s room and followed the instructions until he walked off the elevator on Yank’s floor, then followed the arrows to his room. As usual, when it came to Yank, Damian was surprised by what greeted him there.

  A yellow warning ribbon, reminiscent of police tape, had been wrapped across his door, blocking the entrance. A large sign had been taped to the door, which read Enter at Your Own Risk, Nasty PITA Inside.

  Damian howled with laughter at the blatant description of Yank as a Pain In The Ass.

  “Who’s out there?” Yank called from inside his room.

  Damian ducked beneath the tape and joined Yank by the chair in which he sat. “What’d you do to piss off the nurses?” Damian asked, still chuckling. “Hell, don’t you know if you’re sweet to these ladies they’ll be sneaking you extra dessert?” He pulled up a seat, straddling it backward as he made himself comfortable.

  “It’s not their attention I want,” Yank muttered.

  Damian nodded in understanding. So Lola had bailed on him. “Why don’t you just ask her to come see you?”

  Yank shot him a scowl and pulled the blanket covering his legs up higher over his Burberry pajamas. Obviously, his nieces had been spoiling him even if the nurses here hadn’t been.

  “She wants me to grovel. I love you, Lola. I’m sorry, Lola,” Yank said in a pretty damn good imitation of the woman.

  Damian did his best not to laugh. “I don’t see your pride taking good care of you right now, so why not go ahead and do what she wants? At least then you’ll both be happy.”

  “For how long? How happy is she gonna be cutting my food when I can’t see?”

  Damian exhaled aloud. He understood now how frustrated Micki, Sophie and Annabelle must feel around the older man. “Why don’t you let her make that decision?” Even as he asked, Damian knew the answer. “You’re afraid after all these years she’ll turn you down. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Damian found himself staring into blue eyes similar to Micki’s. Yank gave him a quick nod, then averted his gaze, obviously embarrassed.

  “You can’t end up any worse off than you are now, right?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m tired of talking about me. What’s going on with you?”

  Damian knew that was the end of discussing Yank’s personal life. He’d come here for fatherly advice and now was the time to spill. He glanced down at the floor, unsure of where to begin. “Since the time I was a kid, m
y whole life has centered around baseball. I’ve seen the end coming for a while now, but I refused to admit it. I ignored all the signs. But rehab’s not working, cortisone shots aren’t helping the hand, and the team doesn’t need me hanging on for selfish reasons when they could use another player on the roster.”

  Yank placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “So what are you sayin’?”

  “I met with Coach and told him I think I’m through. The doctors can’t promise a return this season.” The words were as painful now as they had been a few days ago.

  “I’m proud of you for makin’ the decision. If you’re ready, I’ll get working on the details of retirement and the contract issues.”

  Damian nodded. “What about the endorsements I already do?”

  “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry, okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He glanced up. “What the hell am I going to do now?”

  Yank gestured around the room. “Come join me for a daily card game?”

  “No, thanks,” Damian said wryly.

  “You do realize we’re alike, you and I.”

  Damian cocked his head to one side. “Other than a bum body that doesn’t want to do what we tell it to do, how so?”

  “Have you spoken to Micki lately?”

  Damian’s nerve endings went on instant alert. “She’s not taking my calls at the moment. Since issuing that press release, she’s declared our business relationship over and reassigned me. Apparently, Annabelle’s working part-time now, and technically she’s more familiar with the workings of the Renegades,” he said, quoting Micki’s secretary who’d been quoting her boss.

  She’d handed him over to her sister like yesterday’s news and if he thought ending his active career was painful, Micki’s withdrawal hurt just as badly.

  Yank glanced at him, tapping a finger against his bearded cheek. “My Micki did that?”

  “She did.”

  “What’d you do?” Yank asked, suddenly angry and defensive.

  Damian held up both hands. “I didn’t do a damn thing. She just suddenly decided to treat me like dirt.”

  “Same thing Lola did to me. I told you we were alike.”

  His head hurt trying to keep up with Yank’s way of thinking. “I’m lost.”

  “Okay, let me spell it out for you. I lost Lola because first I was scared and then I was a jackass and now it’s too late. Are you gonna risk losing the woman you love the same way I did?” Yank asked.

  Love, Damian thought, dazed. “Is that what this is all about?” he asked, but even as he wondered aloud, he knew.

  He loved Micki.

  Even Carter had tried to tell him.

  Suddenly, all the recent disappointment and confusion made sense. The parties and women that had once defined his life no longer held appeal and when Micki had suggested he return to his old ways, he’d been repelled by the notion. Because he’d rather be with her.

  “Looks to me like you didn’t recognize a good thing when it was starin’ you in the face,” Yank said.

  “Just like you.”

  Yank nodded. “So are you gonna wait till you can no longer see her looking back at you?”

  Damian shivered at Yank’s words. The thought of a life without Micki in it at all wasn’t one he wanted to contemplate. Bad enough he was losing baseball. He refused to lose her, too.

  He glanced at the older man he’d always admired. “Tell you what. I’ll go after Micki if you swallow your damn pride and tell Lola what she wants to hear. It’s not like you don’t have the feelings for her, so get over yourself and let her know,” Damian taunted. He had no choice but to push and prod his agent or else they could both lose.

  “You’re telling me my niece’s happiness depends on whether I’m finally willing to pony up with Lola?”

  Damian folded his arms across his chest. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Not that he intended to stay away from Micki if Yank got stubborn, but it was a good threat and a decent negotiating point. The older man deserved his own share of happiness even if he was, as his nieces believed, too pigheaded to admit it.

  Yank blew out a frustrated puff of air. “I’ve been alone a long time.”

  “And you hate it,” Damian reminded him.

  Yank shook his head. “Yeah, I do.”

  “So?” Damian asked the one-word question, then lapsed into silence.

  He wanted to give Yank time to think. Would the other man finally see how much he needed Lola? Would he put his happiness and hers before his pride? From what Damian understood, it was a battle Micki and her sisters had been fighting for a long time. Yank and Lola together was a gift Damian would love to be able to bring to Micki.

  “I don’t even know if she wants me anymore. For all I know, she’ll get me to open an artery just so she can wipe the floor with my blood.”

  Damian winced. “Nice analogy, but somehow I don’t think the woman’s that cruel.”

  Yank snorted. “That’s what you think.”

  “I’m still waiting for an answer,” Damian prompted and tapped his foot against the linoleum hospital floor for good measure.

  “Okay, okay,” Yank said at last. “I’ll go for it if you will.”

  A rush of adrenaline spiked through Damian’s veins. “I don’t know if Micki wants me either,” he admitted, scared spitless at the possibility of her turning him down.

  Yank shook his head. “Neither of us has any way of knowing how things’ll turn out in the end. It’s a big gamble.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Damian said with little conviction, though he hoped it was true.

  Yank groaned. “Life’s a bitch, huh? Especially for two men used to getting their own way.”

  Damian nodded and rose to his feet. If he had anything to say about it, that particular tradition would continue.

  * * *

  Micki had to be at a photo shoot for one of her clients at 4:00 p.m., but until then, her schedule was free. Because Noodle had slept at Sophie’s for the past two nights, Micki took pity on her sister and brought the dog along with her for a walk through Central Park.

  The sun shone overhead and she let the heat warm her arms as she strode along the path. Joggers passed her and people sat on the grass, reading on the lawn. It was a perfect New York City day. She finally came to her favorite spot, a place she and her sisters often came to together for an escape from the office and stress.

  She unhooked Noodle from her leash and let the dog run free, hoping that the exercise would calm her for the night ahead. Thank goodness Uncle Yank would soon be out of rehab and back in his own apartment with his spoiled dog.

  She popped open a can of Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda she’d brought with her and watched the dumb dog try to make friends with people only to run to the next person when they tried to pet her.

  “Mind if I join you?” a familiar voice asked.

  She glanced up, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand. She would swear her heart stopped beating when she saw Damian towering over her, looking delicious in his light blue shirt and dark jeans.

  She patted the ground beside her. “How’d you find me?” she asked, surprised because nobody except her sisters knew about this spot. “Don’t tell me. Sophie snitched,” Micki muttered.

  Damian remained tellingly silent.

  “Well?”

  “You said not to tell you.” He grinned, making her forget about being angry at her sister.

  “Okay, then what brings you by?”

  “Now that’s a loaded question.”

  Between his serious tone and expression, Micki’s stomach churned with pure agitation. She wondered what he wanted to say, but first she glanced aside to make sure Noodle was still in calling distance.

  When she saw the dog was hanging out with someone’s leashed pet, she turned her attention back to Damian. “What’s going on?”

  “In the time we’ve spent together since the island, you’ve gotten to know me pretty well, wou
ldn’t you say?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I think you have. I think you know me better than anyone else in my life, short of my family, and that’s because they don’t give up when they want answers.” As always, his eyes sparkled with warmth and humor when he spoke of them. “But you know me in a different way.”

  “What do you mean?” She swallowed hard, unsure of where he was going with this.

  “It’s a gut feeling kind of thing. You seem to sense when I need space and you sense when I could use company. You understand the career thing and you don’t put pressure on me one way or another.”

  Without warning, laughter bubbled up from inside her. “I came to your apartment and told you it was time to grow up. You don’t call that putting pressure on you?” she asked in disbelief.

  The corners of his mouth lifted in an endearing, sexy grin. “See, that’s another thing. When you read me the riot act, it doesn’t sound like my family telling me what to do or your uncle guiding my career.”

  She glanced down at her sneakered feet. “What’s it sound like?”

  “It sounds like you telling me what I know deep down inside, except I need to hear it out loud from someone I trust. And that someone is you.” He reached out and lifted her chin so their gazes met and she couldn’t avoid him or their conversation.

  This was getting very personal and intimate. She wiped her damp palms beside her on the grass, suddenly nervous and frightened.

  Since her parents had died and Micki had fallen into the habit of relying on Annabelle and Uncle Yank to bolster her emotionally, she was seldom scared. She rarely found a situation she wasn’t ready to meet head-on. Damian presented that rare emotional challenge and, like when she’d come to Sophie for tips on how to be more of a girl, Micki again found herself at a loss.

  “I’m not surprised we connected that way. I have a knack for understanding the athlete’s psyche.” She deliberately depersonalized what they shared, unwilling to put her heart on the line.

  “Don’t,” he barked out, startling her and she jumped. “Don’t put up the one of the guys front, and definitely don’t try and tell me that what’s between us is no different than what you share with your other clients.” His eyes flashed with anger and obvious hurt.