Hot Number (Hot Zone 2)

Admiration filled his gaze. "You're smart."

"Yeah, well it doesn't mean I won't kick his ass first chance I get," she said, laughing. "I just don't need you to do it for me."

"And you're a tough lady, too."

She swallowed hard. "Sometimes I have to be." She placed a hand on top of the open car door, ready to escape inside.

He held her gaze as if willing her not to go.

"When can you play?" she asked although they'd discussed it already.

His expression tightened, his jaw clenched. "Another nine or ten days."

"Don't push it and try to be a hero," she warned him. "Ten days isn't so bad."

He leaned closer. "Between us?"

She nodded.

"It's that bad."

Micki understood he wasn't just talking about the ten more days on the DL. His career was near the end and he was trusting her with that information. She'd never felt more connected to another human being but there was little she could offer that he'd accept.

"If you ever need me-you know, to help you spin a situation or just to vent-you know where to find me." It was the best she could do.

A sad smile took hold of his lips. "You're special, Micki."

"Oh please."

"Stop doing that" He'd reached out and placed a finger over her lips. "Stop questioning yourself and how people look at you."

She shook her head. "That's not what I'm doing."

"That's exactly what you're doing."

/> "I am," she agreed, laughing. Why was it this man, who wanted to give and receive nothing, was the one who understood her so well?

"Well, next time you get the urge to fight a compliment, remember our weekend together, will you?"

She had a hunch she'd be remembering him a lot sooner and more often than that.

He reached out and hooked his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her close and sealed their lips in a kiss. One that was too fast and too brief-all too reminiscent of their time together.

'I’ll do that." Micki forced a nod. She turned away before he could read the emotion on her face and slipped into the back of the car.

He shut the door for her and waved. "Take care." She was able to read his parting words on his lips.

Once again, she couldn't help but smile.

AN HOUR AFTER LEAVING DAMIAN, Micki reached her apartment. She showered, changed and, since Sophie wasn't in her place across the hall, Micki took a cab over to Uncle Yank's. The doorman let her in and the elevator carried her to his penthouse apartment.

She rang the bell and a set of chimes went off that were so loud they scared her to death and had her heart racing like mad. His dog, Noodle, a Labradoodle he'd purchased because of the breed's intelligence and training in helping the blind, began a high-pitched bark that would wake the dead. A normal person would have bought a trained Lab, but not her uncle.

Without warning, the door from the apartment across the hall swung open wide and an old woman in a brightly colored, decades-old sweatsuit strode outside, hands on her frail hips. "You tell that old man to muzzle the mutt and put a normal doorbell back on or I'm reporting him to the condo board, and don't think I won't." She patted her set hair and slammed the door shut behind her.

"And a good evening to you, Mrs. Murdoch," Micki called to her uncle's neighbor who'd lived there for years and was as likely to report her uncle as Micki was.

The same door swung open wide again. "He was much more reasonable when Lola came around," Mrs. Murdoch said.