CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Damian’s seven-day road trip was cut short by a plane ride home to see Dr. Maddux and undergo a full battery of tests on his wrist, including X-rays and an electromyogram that recorded the electrical activity of the nerve and muscle cells in his wrist. Maddux said he’d call him with the results, but it didn’t take a damn machine to tell Damian that there was pressure on the nerve and swelling there, too.
Based on the tingling numbness and almost complete lack of feeling in his thumb, Damian figured it didn’t matter much what the diagnosis was, his season just might be finished.
Not to mention what was left of his career.
He poured himself a second shot of whiskey and sat down in his favorite leather chair in his den. He left the plasma screen black, not wanting to flip channels and see what was happening in a world that for him was falling apart. How much more crap would be dumped on his head before it was all over? Damian wondered, feeling sorry for himself and not giving a good goddamn.
The doorbell rang and he ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood for company, especially his sisters, the only people besides his parents that Rafael, the doorman, would allow up without calling first.
The buzzer sounded a second time and then a third. Obviously Rafael had told them he was home. With a curse, Damian rose and headed for the door, intending to kiss whichever well-meaning sibling was behind it hello and then goodbye.
“Don’t you realize when someone doesn’t answer the door he doesn’t want to be bothered?” he asked at the same time he pulled it open wide.
“Hello, Oscar,” Micki said with a big smile.
He scratched his head, his slightly inebriated brain not comprehending her reference.
“Oscar the Grouch. Now let me in so we can talk.” Without waiting for permission, she ducked under his arm and strode inside.
He slammed the door shut behind himself. Micki was the one person he wanted to see and the person he’d been avoiding. He figured he’d dumped enough of his problems on her without adding his injury to the list.
He followed behind her, taking in the sweet curve of her rear end encased in tight denim and the hint of skin at her waist peeking out below the cropped top. Her hips swayed as she walked and his groin grew thick and hard with wanting her. At least some part of his broken-down body still worked.
“So how’d you get Rafael to let you in?” He slammed the door shut behind him.
She shrugged. “I was just honest. I told him you’d been through a lot and you needed a friend. He looked me in the eye and buzzed me right in. I think if I’d said I’d come to seduce you he’d have tossed me out on my rear end.”
Damian laughed despite himself. “He’s definitely done that before for me. He’s a bouncer in his spare time.”
“You need security to keep the women away, huh?”
He could tell she was deliberately keeping the conversation light for his sake and decided the hell with it. He wasn’t in a light mood and she might as well know it going in.
“Right now I want everyone to stay away.” He caught himself immediately. “Except you.” He hadn’t wanted company, but with Micki he didn’t feel the need to entertain her or make small talk.
She’d never been to his apartment, yet she made herself at home, heading straight for the den and his oversize club chair. Since she’d taken his seat, Damian eased himself beside her on the arm of the chair.
“So, how bad is it?” she asked, reaching for his good hand, the one not in a brace.
“Can’t feel my thumb, and the rest of the hand tingles like it’s asleep.”
“What do the doctors say?”
He shrugged. “They’re being deliberately vague till the tests are read. They’re still mentioning carpal tunnel and a pinched nerve, but nobody’s willing to commit to anything.”
Micki swallowed hard. She’d come here because he’d ignored her calls on both his cell and his home number, and she’d realized he was probably holed up here throwing a pity party for himself. She glanced at the half-full glass of whiskey and frowned. She hated that she’d been right.
Damian was the least self-pitying man she knew, but the potential for bad news was strong and he’d spent who knows how long denying the inevitable.
“Don’t take this the wrong way and jump all over me, okay?” she asked.
He tipped his head towards her. “I promise not to take it the wrong way. As for jumping you—”
She laughed. “Those weren’t my exact words.”
“They work well enough for me,” he said in a husky tone she couldn’t mistake.
A tremor of awareness shot through her, but she forced herself to keep her focus. He might not realize it, but he needed sound advice and she was here to give it to him. “Didn’t you realize something like this would happen eventually?”
“Ever hear of denial?”
She thought of her Uncle Yank. “I’m vaguely familiar with the term. Look, you’re thirty-five and have a multimillion-dollar contract. You’ve been selected for ten consecutive All-Star appearances, you’ve won an All-Star MVP award, five Silver Slugger Awards and ten consecutive Golden Gloves, and that’s not the half of your accomplishments. That’s a lot to be proud of no matter when you have to step down.” She glanced up and noticed the satisfied expression that curved his mouth into a sexy grin.
“Has someone been reading up on me?” he asked.
She nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Don’t be so arrogant. I just happen to know these things.”
He burst out laughing.
She ignored the burn in her cheeks. “My point is—”
“I get your point, Micki. I just can’t accept it.”
“Well, maybe it’s time you do.” She let out an exasperated groan. “Maybe it’s time that spoiled little boy who thinks everything comes so easily acknowledges that his time in the field and at the plate has passed. That doesn’t mean the future doesn’t hold great things.”
She slid forward and rose from her seat, certain he needed time and space to absorb her words.
“Wait.” His hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“I think I’ve given you enough to think about. I should go.”
His hand curled tighter around her, his fingertips branding her with their heat. “What if I don’t want you to leave?”
Micki’s heart skipped a beat, maybe more, before it kicked in once more. “You aren’t upset about what I said?”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Sure I am. That doesn’t mean I’m upset with you.”
She turned to face him. “Nice distinction. Another way of not dealing with your feelings?” she asked lightly, though how she could speak with both his large, warm hand and his chocolate gaze on her was beyond her.
Her mouth had grown dry, and not because of the sexual tension, though it was strong. Something had changed between them.
For the first time since they’d returned from the island, for the first time since the paternity scandal, Micki truly felt as if they were back in their easy, comfortable state.
And because of that connection, the teasing took on more sensual, provocative undertones. Desire raced through her at the thought.
He raised his hand and cupped her cheek. “Know what I like about you?”
“What’s that?” she asked, trembling as she spoke.
His thumb caressed her face. “You don’t pull any punches. You tell it like it is. And you aren’t afraid to go head-to-head with me.”
“I learned from the best.” Once again, she thought of her uncle.
“Well, you should know something. Your guts and your spirit? They turn me on.”
His voice was gruff and, combined with his purely masculine heat, it turned her on. Still, before she’d consider sleeping with him, she had to make some things clear.
“Damian?”
“Hmm?” His gaze bored into hers.
She gathered her courage because what she was about to say was the last thing she wanted, but she had no choice. “This can’t be more than a one-time thing.”
One more time together before the paternity results came in. Micki knew that once they determined whether or not he was the father, she’d lose him one way or another. To his new life with a baby or to his old life that he couldn’t seem to let go of.
He stared into her eyes, his hand caressing her face, remaining eerily silent as he pondered her words. She trembled with passion and desire, ready to jump him at a moment’s notice. But Micki needed confirmation that they agreed on the ground rules.
She swallowed hard. “Do you understand?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I ought to. They’re my damn rules.”
It had been a while since she had had the freedom to act on her feelings and she did so now. Slowly she reached out and smoothed her fingers over the lines of tension on his face, trying not to let her emotions show. “And? Do you want to go along?”
“I want,” he said in a deep voice. “I want you badly.”
His words freed her from worry or from thinking about anything except tonight. A seductive smile curved her lips.
He slid his hand from her cheek to her shoulders, his fingertips dipping below her neckline. His touch was hot on her skin, his intent to tease and arouse obvious—and effective.
She trembled, her nipples puckering into hard knots beneath her lightweight T-shirt as she reached for the opening on his collared polo shirt.
He stopped her, grabbing her wrist with his good hand. “I think I can maneuver things better in the bedroom.”
“Tonight you don’t have to worry about maneuvering or using that wrist at all,” she promised him. “Tonight it’s all about you.”
Damian appreciated the sentiment, but he wanted to make love to Micki hard and fast, to block out everything around him but her.
“Show me the bedroom,” she said, her voice low and husky.
Apparently she was calling the shots tonight. Fine by him. He didn’t want to think, not even about her words. She hadn’t sugarcoated her feelings and because he trusted her judgment, he’d think about what she said—but he’d do it tomorrow. As she’d pointed out, they had another agenda for the rest of the night.
Her hand in his, he led her down the hallway ending at his large master suite. She stepped ahead of him toward the bed, a place he’d only slept in alone. Despite all the women who’d passed through his life, he’d protected and held onto his privacy, both on the island and here at his apartment. Though Micki had shown up uninvited, he had no second thoughts about sharing his personal space. She’d already become intimately involved in his life and having her here felt right.
The bedroom lights were on dimmers and he lowered them enough to set the mood. He joined her by the bed, where she’d already begun to strip off her clothes. He had every intention of following her lead.
He reached for the snap on his jeans just as Micki came beside him wearing a nude-colored bra that revealed soft mounds of flesh and delectable cleavage, along with her darkened nipples pressing enticingly into the see-through lace. His gaze fell lower, to her flat stomach and matching panties, also nude, that teased him with the shadow of her sex.
“You’re fast,” he said, approvingly.
“Aah, but I intend to go slow.” A provocative smile lifted her lips.
She pulled his shirt from his waistband, then slipped the garment up and off easily. Instead of turning to his jeans next, she dipped her head and placed her lips against his abdomen. With excruciating patience, she teased him, running her mouth over his flesh, leaving a moist trail in her wake. Cool air rushed over his dampened skin and he shivered.
“You like this?” Micki asked, at the same time she splayed her hands over his chest, her fingertips grazing his nipples, turning them into hardened peaks.
He let out a rough growl as desire shot through him, the ache traveling straight to his cock. If she wasn’t going to move things along, then he intended to. He needed her too badly, wanted inside her wet, willing body as fast as humanly possible.
He unzipped his jeans and quickly shoved them aside.
“Commando,” she murmured. “Now that I like,” she said, her gaze on his thick erection, standing proudly at attention. With both hands she eased him onto the bed, and once he was on his back in the center, she straddled his waist, her soft pussy coming into contact with his hardened dick.
He slid his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her close for a hot kiss, holding nothing back. He thrust his tongue into her open mouth, delving into the deepest recesses and finding so much more than an answer to his sexual need. Kissing her soothed his pain and eased the ache in his soul.
She squirmed on top of him, her sex grinding against his shaft, as desperate as he was to get closer despite the silky barrier that still separated them. He hooked his one thumb into the thin band and slid her panties down her soft thighs.
“Please tell me you have protection,” she murmured.
He nodded. “Not because I bring women here, but yeah, I do.” She exhaled a sigh of relief and he laughed. “It’s good to know you want me as much as I want you,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
She grinned. “It’s very mutual.”
He retrieved the foil packet from his nightstand and handed it over to her. “The hand’s not working well enough for me to do it myself.” He pushed himself against the pillows and waited for her to take over.
She ripped the foil, an expression of concentration on her face. She held up the condom to the light, eyeing it this way and that. “Is there a trick to this?”
“You’ll figure it out.” He clenched his jaw, his throbbing cock making it difficult to focus.
His groin jutted upward and she began to roll the thin sheath over him, her fingers brushing his cock. Her lack of skill and yet complete determination was endearing and arousing at the same time.
Once protected, she straddled him, her damp heat poised directly over where he needed her most. Not about to be completely passive, he reached out and tested her wetness, slipping his finger between her damp folds.
“Oh.” She shuddered and clenched her legs around his hand.
Damian grinned. “At least I haven’t lost my touch.”
“Nobody will ever accuse you of that,” she said and began an easy slide down his cock.
She was hot and tight, and fit like a glove. He let out a prolonged groan, his body shuddering from the need to thrust. But he wouldn’t, not until she’d begun her ascent and he knew he could take her along with him.
Damian already felt the urge to come, but he wasn’t about to do it alone. He thrust upward, making sure she felt the full force of their connection. A connection he welcomed as much as he fought to control.
She grabbed his hand and began a steady rocking motion, grinding herself against him each time she encased him completely in her luscious body. He shifted, adjusting his weight and thrusting upward, over and over again.
They reached a mutual rhythm, one that came so naturally it would have been frightening if he’d had the time to think. He didn’t. He could only focus on sensation. On feeling.
She was equally lost, her breath coming faster and faster and faster. Soft cries escaped from the back of her throat and her nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him harder, her body pulling him along for the ride.
Finally she squeezed even tighter around him. The closer he came to release, the thicker and harder he grew. His muscles tightened and he lost himself inside her.
In more ways than one.
* * *
Micki scoured the cabinets in Damian’s kitchen, but there wasn’t much to eat or even use to create a meal. Instead, she pulled out the box of cocoa mix and used the microwave to make hot chocolate. Just as she finished the preparations, Damian strode into the room, wearing a pair of gray sweats and nothing more.
The man took her breath away. Her emotions were mixed, a bittersweet feeling washing over her because her one night had passed. No matter how spectacular it had been, it was over.
But not until she walked out of this apartment. Placing the two mugs on the table, she joined him. “You’re quiet this morning,” she said, wondering what he had on his mind.
He glanced into his cup. “Did I tell you that Carter and I had a man-to-man talk while I was on the road?”
She shook her head. “You didn’t mention it.”
“I guess I had other things on my mind.”
“So what’d the swine have to say?” She leaned forward on her hand.
“He took a stab at being human.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? What’s he really want?”
“My thoughts exactly, but I don’t think you’re going to believe the answer.” A smile curved his mouth and she was tempted to taste the hot chocolate right off his lips. “He wants Carole.”
Micki choked on her drink.
“There’s more. Apparently, their relationship began way before I ever handed Carole over to him. They hooked up back in April.”
Micki opened and closed her mouth. “Are you saying the baby could be his?”
“Could be. He’s had it in for me for a long time. He’s been after my job, my woman—he told me himself.” Damian shook his head. “He was the one who called the press that night at Lacie’s and the one who sidetracked our luggage. And, he was also the guy who revealed the paternity scandal to the papers.”
“Quite a stand-up guy,” Micki muttered, never forgetting for a minute that he’d deliberately gotten her drunk that night, which had led to her public humiliation.
Damian rocked back in his chair. “I wanted to throttle him, but then I realized thanks to his being a slimeball, he may have taken the load off my shoulders. And the kicker is? He wants to. Even if the baby’s mine, he wants to marry Carole.”
Micki gnawed on her lower lip. “This is so bizarre I don’t know whether to cheer or hit him with his own bat.”
Damian nodded. “Join the club.”
“When do you plan on talking to Carole?” Micki asked.
His expression turned thoughtful. “The series of away games are over soon. As soon as Carter’s home, I figured we’d do it together. Hard to believe the guy who sabotaged me might be my only chance at freedom.”
More than anything, Micki wanted Damian free from Carole and this mess, but at the same time, she knew what freedom meant to Damian. No personal responsibilities, no heavy-duty relationships, just a man and his career, she thought.
A man minus Micki.
* * *
Damian glanced down at his hand. He knew better than to attempt to flex. The pain wasn’t worth the effort and immobilization was the best medicine for now. Doctor’s orders, Damian thought. The doc had called with his test results soon after Micki had left.
Damian was glad she’d missed the call so he could wallow in his grief in private before sharing the news. Apparently he had nerve damage, or at least slight nerve damage. Once this flare-up subsided, he could choose to finish out the season, but if he continued to play, he’d be guaranteeing himself an awful lot of time on the disabled list next year and risking nerve damage that would likely be both major and permanent.
Which meant he had to make a decision. If he were honest with himself, the time had been coming for a while now. He just hadn’t wanted to face it. Denial at its best, as he’d told Micki.
Micki. Who else would have the guts to throw his inadequacies in his face and make it seem like she was doing him a favor? He bit back a grin at the feisty way she’d confronted him. At the time, he’d silently applauded her nerve.
Hell, the verbal slap she’d provided had awakened something dead inside him. And that spunk of hers turned him on. When he was with her, not just in her bed but by her side, the bad didn’t feel nearly as awful as he knew it should.
Damian wasn’t a man who wanted women in his life or interfering in his business. That rule didn’t apply to Micki. Ever since that New Year’s Eve kiss, something had been building between them. He’d denied it, a tactic he now realized was his specialty when he didn’t want to face an issue. And when denial had no longer worked, he’d ignored the attraction as if it would disappear. But their chemistry had been stronger than he knew, and by the time he’d taken her to bed, she’d already become a part of him.
The best part, he thought. Even then he must have sensed how much he needed her because he’d blindly shown up on her doorstep after Carole’s declaration and he’d wanted her by his side ever since. She—and her family—had given him direction and instructions on steps to take in order to cope with the scandal, and somehow she’d kept him focused when he could have spiraled out of control in a panicked frenzy. She’d refused to let him give in to self-pity over his hand and showed no mercy when it came to making him face the future.
What future? he wondered. With the exception of saving his money for a rainy day, he’d never planned for a day without baseball.
“Maybe it’s time you should,” he said, mimicking Micki’s words.
But first, he had to deal with Carole and figure out that part of his life. Between him and Carter, Damian was looking at a fifty-fifty shot the baby was his. Not good odds.
But he believed he could handle the possibility. As Micki had correctly pointed out, he had the best role model to make it happen. If the kid was his, Damian knew he’d be as good a father as his old man had been to him. He knew this thanks to Micki.
Damian rubbed his eyes and walked to the window overlooking the park below. Man, he was tired, and not just from making love to Micki late into the night.
He was emotionally drained. For many reasons. Not the least of which was Micki herself. What would her role be in his life once he no longer had the baby scandal as an excuse to keep her by his side?