Even Uncle Yank sensed she'd grown more edgy and restless lately and had begun to ask why. She didn't want to hurt him and so she refused to admit the truth. That Damian Fuller was the one man who made her wish she'd spent less time with her uncle and his friends and more time with her sisters as they'd locked themselves in the bathroom, laughing, giggling, putting on makeup and talking about boys.

Hanging out with Uncle Yank hadn't prepped Micki for flirting with men nor had it taught her how to be one of those females who automatically caught a man's attention in the ways that counted. Damian was drawn to overtly feminine women and his reaction to Micki or lack thereof, reduced her to feeling worse than an awkward teenager.

She tried to hide her frustration with herself and her lack of feminine abilities, and as long as she didn't deal directly with Damian face-to-face, she'd be successful. It helped that the Renegades players were generally Annabelle's clients and Micki could avoid the sexy center fielder.

Leave it to John Roper to misbehave and put her directly in temptation's path. So far though, she hadn't seen any signs of Damian and since she hadn't tripped or fallen over a bench, Micki figured he wasn't anywhere around.

She followed Carter's direction and found Roper freshly showered and joking around with reporters. She halted behind them and waited, not wanting to read him the riot act in front of the press and cause any more problematic headlines.

The New York press was an entity unto itself, creating celebrities out of athletes and saving headlines for the players' personal lives. Like their crosstown rivals, the New York Yankees, the Renegades players knew how to work the media and enjoyed keeping their names in the papers. None more than Damian Fuller, who frequently graced not only the sports sections but the gossip columns. His headlines kept him alive and vibrant in the public eye. If Damian had a slump, the fans came to cheer him out of it. He was a huge stadium draw and a necessary commodity to team management. Noting which woman he had on his arm, how often he'd dated her and when he'd move on was every New York columnist's favorite pastime. The difference between Roper and Damian was that Damian's press was always flattering.

As a friend, Roper was the best. As a client, the man was the ultimate pain in the butt. He'd hired her to help him maintain a masculine image yet he did everything possible to screw with her plan. He obviously liked the attention he received when he did something metro-sexual and outrageous, but they'd been over and over the need for him to keep a low-maintenance profile, and keep the media's focus on his baseball game.

"We're meeting in ten minutes, so wrap up the interviews." Coach Donovan's voice boomed throughout the locker room and Micki knew she had a short time to knock some sense into Roper's head.

She cleared her throat and stepped into the crowd. "I think Roper's finished answering questions for today," she said, asserting her authority.

He scowled. "But I was just-"

"Shutting the hell up," a familiar masculine voice drawled. "Unless you want your publicist to kick your ass," Damian Fuller said, laughing.

His deep tenor sent Micki's body into sensory over load-her skin suddenly grew hot and prickly, her breath became heavy and her stomach churned with excitement. It might have been easy to ignore the other half-dressed men in the room, but not this man.

She tensed as Damian strode forward, sexy and sure. Freshly showered, he wore a towel hung low on his hips, revealing a tanned, muscular chest. His coarse hair had just the right sprinkling of gray.

Her breath caught and her throat grew dry. She was totally aware of all six foot three inches, 215 pounds of him. In a weak moment the day after she'd kissed those sculpted lips, threaded her fingers through that thick brown hair and scraped her cheeks against his short, scruffy beard, she'd read the stats Annie had in her press folder on number twenty-two.

Just thinking about that moonlit New Year's Eve turned her on all over again. She cleared her throat and glanced into Damian's chocolate-brown eyes but he barely acknowledged her presence. Her stomach plummeted and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, yet somehow she maintained her composure. Micki schooled her expression so that nobody would view her disappointment or realize she'd been hurt.

"Sorry, people. No more questions for today." Roper's voice drew her attention as he deferred to his captain and called an end to the impromptu press conference.

Before the media took off, Ricky Carter sauntered up to Roper and slung an arm over his shoulder. "I guess good old Fuller's right about you, Roper. You're afraid your publicist will string you up by your-"

"Shut up," Damian said, abruptly cutting Carter off. "We're in mixed company." He and the rest of the guys stared beyond her to the newest person in the room, Veronica Butler from Esports Network.

The gorgeous redhead in the cream-colored suit with gold stitching co-anchored the cable network's most popular prime-time show. She was also a friend of Micki's and a colleague who booked many of the Hot Zone's clients. Like Micki, as a woman in a man's world, she demanded respect and received it. Unlike Micki, she also received the deference due a lady, at least where Damian Fuller was concerned. In his eyes, Veronica wasn't one of the guys.

Micki swallowed hard. Considering her upbringing, foul language wasn't a shock to Micki and yet she might have been grateful for Damian's sensitivity anyway-had he been worried about her.

Unwilling to stand around a minute longer, Micki jabbed Roper in the arm. "Private talk. Now."

Her client followed and Micki finished their meeting with a threat that if he didn't cooperate with the PR plan they'd agreed upon and lay off the day spas and back waves during the season, she was through as his publicist. She then escaped the locker room, including its accompanying male testosterone and humiliation, as soon as humanly possible.

That night, Micki sat in her apartment's small kitchen across from Roper. His eyes gleamed as he devoured the meal she'd cooked for them both.

"Micki, you make the meanest omelet I've ever had the pleasure of eating," he said between the forkfuls of food he shoveled into his mouth.

"No need to suck up, John. I've already cooked for you."

He grinned. "And I thank you for inviting me."

"You invited yourself," she reminded him, recalling his phone message about how he'd be over around seven for some good food.

She knew he meant they'd go out for a bite. She and John often caught a late meal together if they were both free. He was one of the guys she felt completely comfortable around because she could be herself and he didn't care how she looked or dressed. He accepted her in her after-work sweats or old faded jeans. Which was why she didn't mind cooking for them so they could really relax instead of eating in a restaurant surrounded by people.

She glanced down at the Spanish omelet she'd prepared, frowned and pushed her plate aside.

"No appetite?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Not really"

He switched his empty dish for her full one. "Do you mind?"

She shook her head.

He dug into her portion with equal gusto. "If you want him to notice you then you need to step up," Roper said between bites.

At his words, Micki froze in her seat. "If I want who to notice me?" she asked, feigning ignorance and buying herself some thinking time, she hoped.

She and John clicked on many levels and he was a close enough friend that she'd confided in him about many of her deepest insecurities, but she'd avoided discussing Damian Fuller and that kiss. Roper was Damian's teammate and Micki knew the propensity for guy talk in the locker room. Still, unlike most men, John had a sensitive side and she didn't think he'd deliberately betray her confidence if she decided to fill him in.

She pursed her lips in thought, still undecided about how much to reveal.

"Hey, babe, you should know by now you can't put anything over on me. You obviously have the hots for Fuller.”

She swallowed and choked on her own saliva, grabbing for a glass of water.

"Easy," he said, laughing. "It's just me, so before you try and argue, remember I'm the one who knows how you always felt left out when your sisters would start with the girl talk growing up. And I also know how hard it is for you to date or open yourself up to guys on any level other than friendship. So why wouldn't I notice your reaction when Fuller rolled out the red carpet for Veronica but ignored you?"

"Way to watch out for my feelings, Roper." She glanced down at her hands, unwilling to meet his gaze or admit he was right.

"Hey, you've been dancing around those feelings, which hasn't helped you any, so I decided it was time to bring things out into the open." He raised his eyebrow, challenging her to talk openly with him.

"I had no idea I was so transparent," she muttered.

"Only to those who love you best." He treated her to his trademark grin and the dimples women loved. Thank God she wasn't into him that way, Micki thought wryly. She had enough trying to handle her attraction for Damian Fuller.

"So what are you suggesting? That I step up…how?"

"Why hasn't Damian noticed you as anything other than my publicist up until now?" John countered her question with one of his own.

"Because…" Her voice trailed off. She really didn't want to tread these painful waters, Micki thought. Didn't want to dig into the differences between herself and her sisters, the girlie girls versus the tomboy.