"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. She 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.
"Damian!"
"You know what they say, honey?"
“I’ m afraid to ask," she said, her cheeks flushed red.
"If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen." He grinned and waited for her reaction.
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, his underwear, 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 blond triangle of hair that beckoned to him. “You take my breath away."
"I know," she said, her stare focused on his member, 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 placed 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."