Carly Phillips - Hot Number

He was probably too stunned by the test results to have had time to think, but she knew the inevitable would happen. Micki swallowed hard. Letting him go and meaning it were two different things.

She had to say the words out loud. "Come on, you're Damian Fuller. You made enjoying life and winning baseball legendary. The scandal's behind you. Don't tell me you haven't been itching to get back to living."

"Living, huh?"

She forced a laugh at the way he repeated her words, "You're definitely still in shock."

He shook his head hard. "You could say that Speaking of living, want to get dinner tonight?"

"I'm sorry but once I catch up on work, it's my night to visit Uncle Yank."

He shrugged. "Okay, how about I go with you?"

"I'm not sure that's how you want to spend your first official night of freedom. Go celebrate," she urged him.

He might have gotten used to lying low, but she knew the time would come when he'd be ready to resume a normal life. It wouldn't do her any good to be around him more than necessary.

He blinked, staring off into space, as if he were thinking things through. "Yeah, I guess you have a point. The sooner I get back to ' normal,' the sooner I'll feel like myself again."

Her smile actually hurt. "That's the spirit. So…do you want to go for a press conference or a press release to announce the results?"

"I vote for a release. I'm really not up to dealing with reporters right now."

She nodded in understanding. "They'll find you eventually but I think it's a smart move for the time being." She jotted some notes on the pad she always kept on her desk. "I'll take care of it" she promised.

It was probably the last thing she'd do in her capacity as publicist in charge of Damian Fuller, Micki thought. Once they wrapped up this issue, she intended to turn him over to Annabelle or Sophie, either of whom could easily coordinate with Uncle Yank and Spencer Atkins on Damian's professional future.

He rose to leave, pausing where she leaned against the desk. "Goodbye, Micki."

"Bye," she murmured. With him standing so near, she could inhale his sexy masculine scent and take in his scruffy beard and rugged features up close one last time. Her heartbeat kicked into high gear as she struggled to hold back her emotions.

His steady gaze met hers. For a man who'd just been given a reprieve, he didn't look relieved. But if she asked what was bothering him, she'd be investing herself in his life again and she'd struggled too hard to protect herself from those feelings.

If she didn't put up barriers first, he was bound to wake up and distance himself from her sooner or later.

Better she have enough self-respect to mate it sooner.

DAMIAN WAS STINKING DRUNK and he still didn't feel a damn bit better. He'd headed to the bar after the 4:00 p.m. game where he'd suited up but hadn't played. Not even a Renegades win helped his mood.

"I'll have what he's having," Carter said to the bartender and slid into the seat next to Damian.

"Of all the bars in Manhattan you had to choose this one?" Damian asked.

The other man shrugged. "What can I say? The Blue Season seemed to fit my mood."

That surprised Damian. “Things didn't go well back at the doctor?"

"Depends what you mean. Is the baby mine? Yeah." And at the admission, a wide grin spread over Carter's face. "Is Carole thrilled with the fact? Couldn't tell you. She's not interested in some big love story. In fact she thinks I deserve better than her. How's that for a laugh? If you ask me, we're so damn alike we deserve each other." With that, he finished his scotch in a few healthy gulps.

Damian burst out laughing. "I couldn't have said it better myself." But he felt for the guy. Damian gestured for another round.

"So what's with you?" Carter asked. "I thought you'd be celebrating your escape. Instead you look like a guy on a bender."

Damian stared into the golden liquid. "Go figure," he muttered. "Because I sure as hell can't."

"Don't tell me you're disappointed with the results." Carter sounded appalled at the notion.

With a shrug, Damian took another gulp of the fiery drink. "Like you said, depends on what you mean. Am I happy I'm not the father of Carole's kid? Hell, yeah." He shot a glance Carter's way. "No offense intended."

"None taken."

"But are you looking at a happy man right now? Hell, no. The thing of it is, I have no idea why I'm not celebrating."

"I'm younger than you and I've done my share of stupid things, but I can still look at you and answer that question. It just depends if you want to hear what I have to say."

"Why not? It's not like I have any answers." Damian leaned on one elbow and stared into the eyes of the rookie, the kid poised to take his place on the team.

Damian had accepted that now. He glanced down at his aching, braced wrist. He'd had no choice. "So what's your take on my life?"

"You're looking at the end of your career and you hate it," Carter said, shoving his chair back and himself out of Damian's reach as he spoke.

Damian chuckled. "I'm not going to hit you."

"I'm not taking any chances."

"Go on,"

Carter paused for a drink first. "Maybe you got used to the idea of having a kid. In general, you know? Not Carole's kid but one of your own. Maybe you thought it'd fill the void when you weren't playing anymore."

"What the fuck are you, a shrink? I've never once considered the end of my career and I never thought about having kids,"

"Not consciously but what about unconsciously?" Carter asked.

"You mean subconsciously."

The kid shrugged. "That, too."

Damian wiped a hand over his face and groaned. "I need air."

"What'd she say about you not being the father?" Carter asked, ignoring him.

"Who?"

Carter drew a deep breath and looked at Damian warily. "The hot little publicist, that's who"

Damian shot to his feet and pulled Carter up by his shirt at the same time. "You talk about her like that again and you're a dead man.”

Carter held his hands up in front of him. "You said you wouldn't hit me."

"I changed my mind."

He shook his head. "Whoa, man. Who'd have thought a stab in the dark would pay off? Look, Captain, anyone with eyes can see she means something to you. Except maybe you." This time Carter actually ducked and headed for the door.

"Good reflexes," Damian called out to him, laughing despite himself.

"Youth," Carter called back from the doorway of the bar. "No offense."

"None taken."

If only Damian could dismiss the rookie's pop psychology as easily.

Damian's life was a mess. He needed fatherly advice and for the first time, he couldn't go to his own dad because his whole family was so thrilled about the baby being Carter's, they couldn't see past it to the deeper issues driving Damian insane. There was only one man Damian could trust with his emotions and that was the same man he'd entrusted with his career right from the beginning.

He strode into the rehab facility, an expensive establishment that Damian felt certain Yank must hate. The older man would despise feeling useless, needing help getting around, relying on other people. Man, Damian could relate.

At a large window, he asked where to find Yank Morgan's room and followed the instructions until he walked off the elevator on Yank's floor, then followed the arrows to his room. As usual, when it came to Yank, Damian was surprised by what greeted him there.

A yellow warning ribbon, reminiscent of police tape,had been wrapped across his door, blocking the entrance. A large sign had been taped to the door, which read Enter at Your Own Risk, Nasty PITA Inside.

Damian howled with laughter at the blatant description of Yank as a Pain In The Ass.