Carly Phillips - Hot Number

Micki stared first at the blue sky and southern landscape and then into Damian's deep eyes. "I'm going to kill you and my uncle.” But right now, Damian was the only one within spitting distance. "How could you?"

She shot him a scathing glare, not seeing the sexy man or the guy who'd been her savior. Instead she saw the man who'd betrayed her trust and discounted her ability to decide what was best for herself.

“Micki-"

“Turn the plane around," she ordered.

"I can't. I promised your uncle I'd get you away for awhile."

"What about what I want?”

He shook his head. In his eyes, she saw true regret but in the set of his jaw she read a determination to stay the course.

"Then I’ll just leave on the next flight" The plane, which had been taxiing, slowed to a stop.

"There is no next flight unless I schedule one." He rose from his seat and extended his arm toward her. "Come on. Let's make the best of this."

She smacked his hand away and strode ahead of him, furious beyond words.

"Welcome to paradise," he said as he followed her out of the small plane.

She ignored him and planned to do so for the foreseeable future.

Once on the ground, Damian steered her directly to the hunter-green Jeep Wrangler waiting for them on the runway. He excused himself to see about the luggage but returned five minutes later with an annoyed scowl on his face and no bags in his hands.

"Where's our luggage?" she asked.

"Apparently it's still in Florida. Someone claiming to be me called and told the people at the terminal to hold on to it there."

Now Micki frowned. "And they didn't find it odd that you didn't want your suitcase on board along with you?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes I bring a bag, other times I don't since I have clothing down here. It was a misunderstanding and there's nothing we can do about it until the bags are flown in tomorrow."

"I don't plan on being here long enough for that. As soon as you can arrange it, I want to go back to New York."

He ran a hand through his hair, obviously at his wits' end. "How about we go back to my, place and you can call your uncle and sister from there? Then you can figure out what you want to do. If it makes you happy, you can leave first thing tomorrow. You must be wiped out, so as long as you're already here, use the time to get some rest."

She tapped her foot against the blacktop, the desire to head home warring with the temptation he offered. She might be furious but that didn't mean she wasn't exhausted, too. Besides, she had to admit she was curious about this gorgeous retreat.

"Okay, that's fine," she said, trying to sound grateful when all she really wanted was to strangle him and her uncle for manipulating her this way. "But I want you to arrange a flight out tomorrow."

"We'll see."

As she climbed into his Jeep Wrangler she growled.

DAMIAN'S TROPICAL RETREAT literally took Micki's breath away. Tall palm trees and lush plants dotted the landscape made more beautiful by the expanse of blue sky above them. Despite her anger, he kept up a steady flow of one-sided conversation she couldn't help but listen to with rapt interest.

So far she'd learned that there was one small town and five major estates on the entire island, none within walking distance of the others. The wealthy neighbors rarely crossed paths, while in the town-which supplied the necessities for the visiting inhabitants-the neighbors hung out, gossiped and treated each other like family. That, she discovered, was why Damian loved the place.

He could find either privacy or a sense of small-town kinsmanship, whichever he desired at the moment. On first glance at the island, Micki completely understood his reasoning, but she wasn't about to tell him so. Because she wasn't speaking to him unless she absolutely had to.

"My sisters and their families use the house on their vacations," he said as he continued to drive.

"I'm not in the mood for idle chitchat."

"There's not much else to do to pass the time during the ride."

He wanted to talk? She'd talk. "You brought me here against my will. I think that's called kidnapping."

"So sue me." He laughed. "Your uncle wanted you to have some peace until this blew over and there's nowhere more peaceful than Casa de Fuller."

She didn't know who she was more upset with, her family for treating her like a baby or Damian for buying into it. "It was one picture in a New York newspaper. I can handle the fallout."

"I'm sure you can," he said in a soothing voice.

"If you believe that, then why bring me here?"

"Your uncle asked me to. Since the photo showed you out of control, the publicist who can't practice what she preaches, Yank's worried. And since I had a role in last night's mess, he holds me responsible. The least I could do was help fix things."

Damian's gentlemanly side was rearing its head again. "What role are you referring to?" she asked. "That of savior?"

He gripped the wheel more tightly. "Instigator. I got the definite feeling that when you saw me with Carole, it set you off somehow."

"Who's Carole?" she asked, deliberately playing dumb.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing grin. "My date last night."

"Date? Is that what you call her?" Micki asked and immediately could have bitten her tongue in two.

She might not want to reveal her insecurities, but she didn't have to insult another woman just because she was jealous of Damian's interest in someone so feminine.

"It wasn’t you or your date that set me off. Not exactly." As she glanced down at her unpainted fingernails, the words she kept inside of her spilled free. "I've always been the tomboy in the family, I guess because of how close I was to Uncle Yank. When my parents died I trailed after my uncle like he was a god." From the day she'd gone to live with him, Uncle Yank had always been there, the most dominant presence in her life.

Damian nodded in understanding. "He took you and your sisters in. Idolizing him wouldn't be all that unusual."

"It was beyond idolizing. I never felt like myself around my sisters, but it was different with Uncle Yank. He just understood me from the beginning."

"So you were into sports, but somehow I doubt you were an ordinary tomboy" He turned toward her, his gaze meeting hers. "Because there's nothing ordinary about you," he said in a husky voice, taking her off guard.

She swallowed hard, fighting the sexual and emotional effect his words had on her. "I definitely had the most masculine role models you can imagine." Still, she rarely regretted her choices. She not only idolized her uncle, she adored him. 'It's just that there are times I wish I'd chosen Sophie or Annabelle to worship because maybe then I-"

She clamped her mouth shut before she said more, realizing how much insight into her soul she'd nearly given a man who definitely wouldn't plan on returning the favor. He'd told her as much, admitting the women he chose to be with were the ones who knew the score. Women who'd let him easily walk away.

They both knew she didn't fit the mold.

Damian gripped the steering wheel tightly and spared a quick glance at Micki. The wind had blown her blond curls around her face in an adorable tangled mess, but it was her silence that caught his attention.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, but whatever she'd been about to reveal remained locked inside her.

Not for the first time, he wondered what made this enigmatic woman tick. A tomboy who was comfortable in a locker room full of naked men, yet a female who was uncomfortable in her own skin. What an interesting mix of contradictions she presented.

At least she was speaking to him again. He hoped his next comment wouldn't put the barrier right back up. "My guess is that you wish you'd spent more time with your sisters and then maybe you wouldn't be thought of as one of the boys."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, her voice tight with tension.

"Something you said last night."

"I wouldn't remember."

She was lying, he thought. She remembered everything about last night as clearly as he did.

Suddenly his estate loomed ahead and he pulled onto the private paved road that led to his home. When he hit the remote he kept in his car, two large iron gates slowly opened before them. He pulled up the circular driveway and parked in front. Before he could say anything else, Micki hopped out of the Jeep ahead of him.

He'd have liked to continue their talk, but there would be more than enough time to ask her questions later. Unless she bailed and headed back for New York. A thought he suddenly didn't find all that appealing,

MICKI STOOD in Damian's large kitchen, which seemed to be the center of the first floor. On one side there was a functional working area and on the other, a long counter surrounded by bar stools. In the middle stretched a large table that seated six. Attached to that was a family room with a flat-screen TV, visible from all angles of the kitchen.

Damian dropped his keys and walked straight to an answering machine, which he noticed was blinking red. He hit a button and an electronic voice informed him there were seven messages.,

"Hi, it's Ronnie. Just wanted to make sure you got down there safely. Call me."

Damian glanced at Micki. "That's my youngest sister," he explained without being asked.

"Hi, Damian. It's Brenda. We're worried about you and that wrist. Call us."

Micki shot him a questioning look.

"The middle one." He rolled his eyes, but the gesture was purely indulgent.

"It's Dad. Your mother's driving me crazy. She's been calling every hour and hanging up no matter how many times I explain you won't get home until later. Check in before she drives me batty. Oww. Damn woman pinched me. Call-" His message was cut off by the beep signaling the end of his allotted time.