CHAPTER SEVEN
Micki awoke alone in Damian’s bed and remembered that Dr. Maddux was arriving this morning to evaluate Damian’s wrist. She hoped he’d have good news because Damian loved the game too much to be forced out before he was ready.
Since last night, Micki cared more about what Damian wanted than she probably should. Because of how he made her feel. Because of how she felt about him.
The man was a fantastic lover and knew how to make her feel like she was the only woman in the world who mattered to him, in bed and out. For the time being, she didn’t mind living in her own deluded world. So much so that she got out of bed smiling and singing out of tune while she headed for the shower.
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.
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, fragrant 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.
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 her 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.