Micki cringed at her friend's words.
"What? What'd I say?" Roper asked, obviously reading her expression.
She stretched her legs out in front of her. Her body ached and she wondered if maybe she had the flu. "You nailed the other thing I've been thinking about. My whole life, I've always been taken care of. First by my parents, then by Annabelle and Uncle Yank. I've always needed other people. For the first time, someone needed me. Once Damian has his answer, once he knows whose baby it is, he's not going to need me anymore."
"All your clients need your expert advice and spin on a situation. You must know it's true, otherwise you wouldn't be as successful as you are." He ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, a sure sign Micki was confusing him.
"It's not the same thing as with the people who hire me." Something special existed between Micki and Damian, something that transcended a client-publicist relationship.
Someone she cared about had relied on her for a change. Losing him saddened her because she'd grown used to the way he'd come to need her and she liked knowing he looked to her as someone important in his life, someone he could trust with his deepest secrets. She'd spent a lot of time lately trying to come to terms with the fact that that part of her life was over.
Roper let out an exasperated sound. "Well if it makes you feel any better, I still need you," he said, treating her to his endearing grin.
The man obviously still didn't get it, which was just as well. She didn't need him psychoanalyzing her at the moment. She sneezed.
"Bless you." Roper stood. "I really should get going before I catch whatever it is you've got. I don't want to miss the autism benefit at the Pierre tomorrow night. Are you going to be up to it?"
She nodded. "After all the work Sophie and I put into it to pull it off, you'd better believe I’ll be there. The Renegades will get some extremely positive press from this."
"And we're playing so well, ticket sales are up anyway. It's all good," Roper said. "But you need to rest up."
"After my soup gets here, I could use a nap," she admitted.
"Feel better," he said as she walked him to the door.
"Thanks."
"And cut Damian some slack. The guy's been through hell but it doesn't mean things are over between the two of you."
Micki ignored him. She'd already said goodbye to Damian in the place it counted most. Her heart.
THE BALLROOM in the Pierre hotel sparkled as much as the celebrities who were attending the benefit in their designer gowns and jewels. Considering the money laid out per plate for this event, everybody had pulled out their finest formal wear. Even Micki had purchased a new gown.
The light pink chiffon complimented her skin tone, or so the lady at Saks Fifth Avenue had told her. Unfortunately, she had no place in the strapless gown to hide tissues and so she'd loaded up on Benadryl in an effort to dry herself out. She couldn't speak without sounding like a frog and her head felt like it was about to explode.
A trip to the doctor this afternoon had resulted in the diagnosis of a sinus infection and so she was on antibiotics as well, but she still wasn't about to miss this big event.
After checking on a few things, Micki headed for the bar and asked for a glass of ice water.
"You'd better make sure no one spikes your drink" a familiar voice said.
Micki drew her shoulders back and turned to face Rick Carter. "Long time no see. I'm sorry I can't say I missed you," she said to the man who'd started her roller-coaster affair with Damian Fuller.
Carter inclined his head. "I'm sorry for changing your drink order that night. I'm sorry for a lot of things," he said.
She narrowed her gaze. "You look like the Carter I know but you don't sound like him." She knew his situation with Carole had to have changed how he viewed life, but considering how he'd treated Micki in the past, she wasn't about to give him the benefit of the doubt so easily.
"I don't blame you for hating me. I just wanted to say I was sorry and maybe one day we can get past it and be friends?"
She nodded warily. "Apology accepted." She'd been taught manners, after all. "As for the future, you'll understand if I reserve judgment"
"Fair enough." He started to walk away and paused. "I really am trying to turn over a new leaf. Even if that paternity test doesn't name me-"
"You took the test already?" Micki asked, stunned.
"We sure did, though it takes two weeks to get the results."
"I see."
She knew Damian had gone to Florida with Carter but she hadn't known the result of their discussion. She certainly had no idea they'd all taken tests. Because she hadn't returned his calls, Micki thought. Instead she'd had her secretary keep her up to date on anything Damian needed professionally, and there'd been nothing. So how could she have known?
"Well good luck. I hope things turn out the way you want them to."
He inclined his head. "Thanks for that"
He walked away, leaving Micki alone with her ice water and stuffy nose. Her head hurt badly. As long as things here were under control, she might as well tell Sophie she was heading home.
Micki looked around for her sister and finally spotted her red dress across the room. She started toward Sophie when a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Going somewhere?" Damian asked.
Micki stepped back and looked into his dark gaze. "I didn't realize you'd be here."
"Why not? All the Renegades were on the invitation list."
She shrugged. "I know. I just thought…you wouldn't be in the mood for a party."
"I'm not. But (a) it's for a good cause, (b) you put the event together and (c) I knew you'd be here. Any one of those reasons works for me."
His grin turned her insides into a mushy mess. "Well thanks for coming but I was just leaving."
His smile quickly faded. "Why the rush? I was hoping to talk to you."
As much as she'd love to spend more time with him, Micki had already decided to protect her heart. "I'm not feeling well. Why don't you call me?"
"Because you don't answer my messages. Come on, one dance. We'll talk and then you can go home and take care of that cold," he said, his voice gruff and just short of pleading.
Before she could reply, he grabbed her hand and led her out to the dance floor. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, his body flush with hers.
Her back tingled where his palm rested. "You don't want to get too close. You'll catch my cold."
"I'm not worried. So how's your uncle doing?" he asked, his breath warm against her ear. His body moved in a graceful glide around the dance floor, sweeping her along with him.
"He's fine. Driving people in the rehab place nuts but he shouldn't be out of commission too long."
Damian nodded. "That's good. I'll get by to see him this week."
"He'd like that."
"And the merger?" he whispered the private words so no one else could overhear.
She shook her head. "Slow as you'd expect with Spence and Uncle Yank pulling from opposite ends. They'll run up hefty lawyer bills but it'll get done."
He chuckled, the low rumble of laughter in his chest reverberating against her. "And his eyesight?"
"He doesn't complain. He never did. I think he's too busy hiding how he really feels."
Damian raised his hand, still in a brace. "I can definitely relate to his situation," he muttered.
"Any improvement?" she asked, gently touching his hand.
"Not considering how long it's been immobilized. I've had some physical therapy, too. It's August and the play-offs are in sight for September. I just don't know if I'll be playing in them."
He sounded resigned but more accepting than she'd heard him before. She wondered what, if anything, had changed in his mind but decided not to ask. She couldn't keep her distance if she let herself get wrapped up in his emotions.
They continued to move together in rhythm. He intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled her hand tighter against his chest. The gesture felt intimate somehow and, despite herself, Micki trembled.