“You really have to thank your sisters for me,” she said as she jumped down the last two steps.
He grumbled in reply. If these sexy pieces were his sisters’ clothes, Damian sure as hell had never seen them wearing anything like them. He’d been blindsided and it pissed him off.
If Micki noticed his foul mood, she didn’t mention it. Instead she happily bounced out to the Jeep. On the ride there, she chatted about the blue skies, the gorgeous trees and how fortunate he was to have a retreat on the island. She was no longer upset to be here and damned if he knew why.
This time he was silent as they drove in the Wrangler. He was preoccupied, his thoughts on how he’d deal with her seductive look and her sex appeal, which she seemed suddenly determined to turn his way.
Micki glanced out of the corner of her eye at Damian’s tense expression. She’d thrown him off guard, but that was her plan. He didn’t need to know that she had seduction on her mind—or that she’d called her sister Sophie for advice.
His contained feelings told Micki he’d yet to figure out how he wanted to handle her. The attraction between them was real, but so was his fear of the kind of woman Micki was. A woman who knew her mind, understood what she wanted, and one he feared wouldn’t accept a one-night stand.
Tonight he’d discover she’d accept whatever he was willing to offer. She’d also accept the possibility that they’d leave the island and never acknowledge what had transpired between them again. But she was even more willing to accept the possibility that, just maybe, she’d touch Damian in a way no woman had before.
For Micki, it was a win-win situation. A hot affair that was long overdue, or a longer relationship if Damian was interested. She could handle either, she promised herself. She had no choice if she was going to follow through with her plan of no regrets.
In town, the streets were small, the façades bright. Quaint storefronts popped in bright pastel colors with basic names, like Pop’s Grocery and Your Neighborhood Drug Store. An ice-cream cart was propped between the two stores and outside the front of each she noticed empty benches where she imagined friendly townsfolk sat and passed time.
Damian pulled the Jeep to the curb outside the grocery store. Micki hopped out and went in ahead of him. She wanted to help out by buying some of the food and wanted to give him some space. She shopped quickly, picking some of her favorite staple items, assuming she’d be here for a couple of days before heading home to New York.
She rounded the aisle near the register when she heard Damian’s voice.
“How are you doing, Pops?” he asked.
“Good, good. Summer’s generally rough, what with the snowbirds sticking close to home, but we’re getting by.”
“Glad to hear it. How’s the missus?”
The man named Pops made a snorting noise. “How do you think? Giving me a hard time over nothing, which means she’s the same and just fine.”
Damian laughed, a sexy sound that rippled along Micki’s nerve endings. “I’ll take that to mean you’re misbehaving. Smoking, drinking, giving her reason to worry.”
“She’s not happy unless she’s nagging.”
“And you love her.” Damian’s voice held a warmth she’d only heard when he’d spoken of his family.
“Tell her and I strangle you. How’s the wrist?” Pops asked. “I saw the game. That was a fantastic catch. Made me damn proud to know you.”
Damian slapped the older man on the back. “Thanks. The wrist will be just fine and I’ll be playing in October,” he promised.
Micki whispered a silent prayer he was right. Not because of the bonus clause negotiated by her uncle that promised Damian big money if the Renegades made each successive play-off, but because he so obviously loved the game.
“Eavesdropping?” Damian had silently come up beside her.
She yelped and dropped the container of yogurt she was holding. “No,” she lied, caught in the act. “I was just checking the expiration date.”
“Uh-huh.” A disbelieving grin tipped his lips.
She studied him, noticing a more relaxed expression on his face. Less tension, fewer stress lines. “You seem to be in a better mood.”
He shrugged. “Appearances can be deceiving. I’m still trying to figure you out.”
“I had you so confused it affected your mood? I’m flattered.” She couldn’t help but grin.
“Don’t be. You’re a female, hence you were put on this earth to perplex men.”
Micki was oddly flattered by his comment. After all, he’d called her a female, and she’d worked hard for him to notice her in that way.
She glanced at her half-full cart. “I’ve gotten what I need for the next few days.” She kept her eyes focused on him, watching for his reaction.
“Next few days?” His gaze darted to hers. “When did that happen?”
She attempted a casual shrug. “You and my uncle thought I should stay here until the scandal blew over. I decided you both had a valid point.”
“The hell you did. For some reason I can’t begin to understand, you decided you want to stay. What we think has nothing to do with it.”
So, he already knew her that well, did he? Telling him the truth wouldn’t hurt. “I decided I’d be a fool to leave paradise too soon.” She just didn’t intend to define paradise, which wasn’t just this island, but anywhere Damian Fuller happened to be.
“I might buy that excuse if you hadn’t been champing at the bit to leave here, if not today then first thing tomorrow. What changed?”
“Everything.” She shot him a big smile. “So, did you pick up what you needed or do you have to do more shopping?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“I have to shop,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Okay, I’ll just wait up front.” She started to push her cart forward, but he stuck a foot out, stopping her.
“Don’t get too friendly with the locals,” he warned her.
“Why not? Do they bite?”
“Funny,” he muttered, grabbing her cart, and then took off down the aisle.
She didn’t know how or when, but the teasing and flirting with Damian had suddenly become second nature. It came easily in a way it hadn’t before.
She wondered what had changed beyond her dress, and realized it was her perspective. Not just of herself as a woman capable of attracting this man, but of Damian himself. He was no longer an icon she feared or a guy with no substance who wouldn’t give her a second glance. Now that she viewed him as a man with thoughts and feelings, she could treat him the same way she did the other men in her world, like Roper or her clients. Except for that added attraction, of course.
She could easily become addicted to the sensations taking over her body. She’d seen his reaction to her as she’d come down the stairs. Seen it in his eyes and seen it in his pants. As much as she blushed at the thought, she reveled in the attention so long denied.
She’d already been fortunate in his sisters’ choice of clothing. Obviously the items in the closets and drawers were chosen with their husbands in mind. Micki doubted they brought those pieces for trips with their kids in tow. Especially the brand new lingerie with tags still attached. She planned to wear one tonight and would be happy to leave payment and a note of thanks, she thought wryly. No way would she give Damian advance notice of her intent. Micki was counting on the heat of the moment to carry them away.
Since she was already driving Damian insane, she decided to listen to him and not talk to anyone in the store. Instead she walked outside, purchased a snow cone and settled onto one of the benches she’d seen earlier.
On her first lick, the frozen ice reminded her of the days she and her sisters would buy this kind of treat when they were young. She curled her legs beneath her and sucked the juice from the cone, letting the cold refreshment ease the humidity and heat clinging to her skin. She shut her eyes and just enjoyed, hoping this was the first of many more pleasurable activities to come.
; * * *
Damian headed for the grocery store exit. His bags weren’t in hand since Pops never allowed him to load his own car and Damian had long since stopped arguing. The older man thought that since baseball was America’s favorite pastime, it was somehow his duty to serve Damian. Pops was a stubborn cuss and Damian had no choice but to give in. Unfortunately, that meant it would be a little while before Pops got all the bags into the Jeep.
Damian stepped out into the heat of a sticky summer afternoon that was quickly turning to evening and immediately saw Micki. She sat on one of the benches he’d never paid much attention to until now and enjoyed a basic summer pleasure, one usually reserved for kids. But the woman eating the snow cone wasn’t a child, and the images she evoked as her tongue worked at the rounded head of the cone were for adults only.
Her eyes shut tight, her tongue covered the ice as she delicately licked the treat, then followed with her lips as she drew the snow cone into her mouth. Sucking. Pulling. Drawing every last drop inside her mouth and down her throat.
His groin tightened at the sight and the erotic visions that filled his mind weren’t a huge leap. Not for a man on the edge of sanity.
A jarring, noisy sound broke his concentration and he looked up to see Pops walk out, pushing the shopping cart filled with his bags of groceries. At least he wasn’t planning to carry the load to the Jeep one bag at a time.
“I noticed she’s with you.” Pops angled his head Micki’s way.
Damian cleared his throat. “My agent’s daughter.”
“That’s what I call mixin’ business with pleasure.”
Damian couldn’t tell if Pops was issuing condemnation or just statement of fact. “What makes you think it’s more than just business?”
“I saw the Post,” Pops said. “And the News. You know we get it flown in late.”
“Yeah.” Damian knew. He’d just pushed the article out of his mind, hoping his island retreat was far enough away to forget things for a little while.
“You never brought anyone down here before.” Pops pierced Damian with his best silvery-eyed stare.
“Never had to, but she needed a place to hide out till the speculation died down.” Damian squinted into the late-afternoon sun, wondering when the inquisition would be over.
“I dunno what that craziness is about, but she looks like a nice enough girl. Mary said she reminds her of Ronnie,” he said, referring to Damian’s baby sister.
Normally that kind of statement would kill any building desire. When it didn’t, Damian realized that Micki had a more powerful hold than he liked.
He glanced at Pops. “That ought to convince you I’m just doing a favor for a friend.” For added luck, Damian crossed his fingers behind his back.
“Yeah, well, Mary also said she looks like a keeper.” As if Pops knew the conversation was over, he pushed the cart toward the Jeep.
Damian looked over at their topic of discussion. Oblivious, Micki had begun licking the liquid dripping from the bottom of the cone.
Drawing a deep breath, Damian strode over and cleared his throat.
She glanced up, red juice on her chin.
“Ready to hit the road?” he asked.
She’d been sitting cross-legged and, on hearing his voice, her feet hit the floor. “Ready.” She glanced around. “Is there a garbage pail near here?”
He took the paper wrapper from her hand, walked to the curb and tossed it in the trash. Pops, he’d noticed, was still loading the groceries into the back of the Jeep.
Micki, in the meantime, had begun licking her fingers and he couldn’t resist the temptation to stare as she sucked the juice off her fingertips one by one.
When she met his gaze, her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “Sticky,” she explained.
He swallowed a reply that would surely have involved him offering to take over the job for her. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly.
He needed a cold drink and his big-screen TV where he could watch a game and distract himself from this woman. As if such a thing were even possible, he thought, wondering exactly what he’d gotten himself into.
CHAPTER SIX
Upon their return from town, Damian sequestered himself in the den and flipped on the television to watch the Boston Red Sox play the New York Yankees. Since he hadn’t invited her to join him and she was exhausted anyway, Micki retreated upstairs for a nap.
She woke an hour later and headed for the kitchen, intending to cook them dinner. She wasn’t a gourmet chef, but she could whip up a passable meal for two. She didn’t have to. An older couple was already at work.
She cleared her throat and walked into the room.
A gray-haired woman greeted her with a smile. “You must be Mr. Fuller’s guest. I’m Rosa, and this is my husband Tino.” She gestured to a man who resembled Dom DeLuise. Robust and cheery, he waved, his hands full with a carving knife and breast of chicken.
“Micki Jordan,” she said by way of introduction. “Can I help?” But even as she asked, she realized they were extremely at home in the kitchen. They worked in tandem, helping each other and knowing exactly where to find things in the drawers and cabinets.
“No, thanks,” Tino said, just as Micki had expected. “Go relax and we’ll let you know when dinner’s on the table.”
“Okay.” She lifted her arms in a halfhearted gesture, thinking she’d prefer to socialize than go off alone. “So have you worked here long?”
“For the last five years, every time Mr. Fuller comes to town,” Rosa said.
“What do you do between visits?” Micki asked.
“If his family’s here, we cook and clean for them. If not, we come in weekly to freshen the place up and keep it from getting musty while nobody’s living here.”
Micki nodded, though she wondered how they made a living on Damian’s sporadic visits alone.
“When Damian was young, we were his neighbors in New Jersey,” Rosa explained as she chopped tomatoes. “I’d do babysitting for his mother while she worked. She helped his father out at his car dealerships. Damian made it big, bought this place about the same time Tino had a heart attack.”
She spared a loving glance at her husband. “He needed warmer weather and Damian needed caretakers. It’s a win-win situation, though a much bigger win for us,” Rosa said, clearly embarrassed.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Damian said, joining them.
He stepped closer, his big body overwhelming Micki from behind, his heady masculine scent sending warning signals to her brain. If she thought she’d slept off the effects of last night, she’d been sadly mistaken. Her reaction to the man was as potent as ever, which meant her plan to seduce him was still in full force.
“I see you met the best people around,” Damian commented, affection in his tone.
“We met,” Micki said warmly.
“We’re almost finished,” Tino said. “Do you want us to come back and clean up?”
Micki shook her head. “No thank you. I can take care of—”
“I’d appreciate it.” Damian interrupted her.
He eased closer and leaned his head near hers. “They’ll be insulted if they think they aren’t needed,” he whispered quietly into her ear. His breath was warm and his lips brushed against her hair. He might not have intended anything except imparting information, but the result was erotic all the same, and she shivered.
“Well, I need my rest anyway,” Micki said.
Rosa nodded, pleased. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, so why don’t you go sit and have a drink?” She gestured in the direction of the dining room.
Micki had expected a casual dinner, but as she headed to the other room, she found the rectangular table set with a delicate tablecloth, good china and two glasses of sparkling water poured and waiting for them. Surprised, she turned to question Damian.
He stopped short, nearly walking into her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, except…why the formality?”
He shrugged. “Rosa thinks company’s a reason to use the good dishes.”
“I would have thought this room was for show,” she said, laughing.
“If it were up to me, that’s what it would be for. My sisters decided if I was going to have a big house and help, I shouldn’t be serving on paper plates in the den.”
“They have a point.”
He strode around her, pulled out a chair and waited for her to be seated.
Suddenly, nerves took over as she found herself next to Damian at the end of the table. In the silence that followed, the atmosphere around them grew more intense. She became aware of the ticking of the clock on the wall behind her, a synchronized accompaniment to her heart as it beat heavily inside her chest.
She searched for an easy topic of conversation. He had his prearranged doctor’s appointment the next day and Micki knew he put a lot of stock in the doctor helping him get back to work soon.
“So how ’bout them Renegades?” she asked to break the tension.
It worked. He grinned and raised his glass. “To the division championship, then the NLCS and finally the World Series.”
She lifted her water and clicked her glass with his. He seemed pleased at the topic of conversation and she didn’t want to mess up by getting too serious. “I spoke to Sophie and she said the camp ran smoothly.”
He nodded. “It always does. You Jordan girls have a knack for PR.”
“Thank you. It’s something we all enjoy, which I’m sure helps a lot. Nobody wants to get up and go to work every day and be miserable.”
“Amen.”
She smiled. “You love what you do, too.”
Hot Number (Hot Zone Book 2) Page 8