Hot Number (Hot Zone 2)

Inside, Carole was shaking, her stomach in knots, nausea rising up her throat. "Did you forget that there's a fifty percent chance the baby's Damian's?" she said, admitting a truth she could no longer deny.

"Not at all. But let me lay out a few facts for you."

She drew her tongue over her dry lips.

"First, even if Damian's the father, he has no intention of marrying you."

Her stomach cramped at his words. "You can't know that for sure."

"He told me and if you ask him outright, he'll tell you the same thing. Oh, he'll do right by you and pay you so you and the baby are comfortable, but you are never going to be a family."

She swallowed hard, unable to reply.

"Unlike Fuller, I plan on marrying you whether or not the kid is mine. I plan on supporting you and your baby regardless and I plan on giving you the family you're looking for. Want to know why?"

"Why?" she whispered.

He took her hand again, his touch warm and reassuring. "Because like I said, I love you." He squeezed her fingers. "But you're scared and I don't expect you to be able to deal with all this right now. So let's take it one step at a time "

Carole rose but the blood rushed from her head and she grew so dizzy she had to

sit once more.

He pushed her head downward between her legs. "Relax and breathe," Carter instructed her.

She did as she was told and slowly she began to feel better. "I'm okay," she mumbled.

"Sit up nice and slowly."

She lifted her head and met his gaze. "I'm better. Thanks."

"I'll take care of you, babe. I promise. Now how about we take that test?" He reached behind him and pulled an airline ticket out of his pocket. "We can be on the 5:00 p.m. tonight."

She grasped his hand, suddenly seeing him as her only lifeline. It didn't matter that she loved him, too, and always had. Love had never been enough to make any of her mother's men stick around.

Why should she be any luckier?

THANKS TO A BAD HEAD COLD, Micki stayed home from work. When boredom set in and she couldn't stop thinking about Damian's trip to Florida, she began cleaning her apartment, tackling junk drawers, cabinets and closets. With the amount of garbage she'd collected, the dust bunnies did nothing to help her already stuffed nose and itchy throat. She was surrounded by junk and completely miserable when the doorbell rang.

She sniffed, grabbed a tissue and headed for the door. "Who's there?"

"It's Roper."

She let her friend inside. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"And a welcome to you, too. I called the office to see if I could take you for lunch and they said you were out of the office today. I figured you could use some company what with Damian being in Florida and all."

Micki scowled. "You're subtle as ever, John. I'm not home wallowing. I'm sick."

He studied her intently. "Red nose, no makeup…Yep, you're sick." He headed for the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Ordering you the best chicken soup in Manhattan. Luckily they deliver." He called in the order and, since the thought of hot soup sliding down her raw throat was heavenly, she didn't argue.

They settled into her den. Micki grabbed an afghan blanket and wrapped it around herself to keep warm. "So why are you really here? Is it because you think with Damian off talking to Carole, I'd be a basket case?"

Roper chuckled. "You said it, I didn't. Have you heard from him?”