Carole stared at Ricky Carter in shocked disbelief. "Love?”

One minute her childhood poverty was rising to suffocate her and the next minute this man was trying to make her fears disappear. But as much as he tried, he couldn't do the one thing she needed and that was guarantee her she wouldn't end up alone and on welfare, reliving her mother's unstable life.

"Yeah. Somehow during all this, I ended up falling in love with you. And let's face it, we are alike enough to make this work."

“Two peas in a pod?"

He nodded, his dimples showing as he smiled. "Listen, babe, we're both driven. We're both not above using other people to get what we want. You knew this baby could be mine and you would have passed it off as Fuller's."

She winced as he laid out her sins. "I never meant to hurt you."

"And I never meant to hurt you when I called the papers and told them Damian was going to be a daddy. I was just so angry he was getting something else I wanted again-"

"You told the papers? Something else you wanted? I don't know which statement makes me angrier. That you'd betray me or-"

"In the heat of the moment," he said, his eyes downcast, his remorse seemingly honest.

"Or that you think I'm a possession to be had by you or Damian!"

He shook his head and laughed, taking her off guard.

"What's so funny?"

"You're doing the same damn thing with that unborn baby. You're using it as a possession to give to Damian or whomever you think is the best daddy at this moment. Like I said, we're alike. Similarly driven. So let's turn all that energy towards one another-and the baby-instead. What do you say?"

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?”

She shook her head. "And I don't plan to." She glanced down. "It's over" she told her best friend.

"Because?"

"Baby or no baby, Damian lives a lifestyle that has no room for commitment. And I want that." She blew her nose into a tissue. “I want someone who can balance a career and a family"

John leaned forward in his seat. "And you think Damian doesn't want that? With all the changes in his life at the moment, I'd think some stability would be nice right now."

She shook her head. "He's overwhelmed with the paternity thing. If it's his, he's going to have his hands full adding a baby to his list of responsibilities, which he admits he has trouble prioritizing."

"And if it isn't his kid?"

Micki let out a laugh. "Come on. You know him pretty well. He'll be so damn relieved he's off the hook, he's going to return to focusing on what's left of his career. He's certainly not going to do a one-eighty and want a serious commitment when he's just escaped one."

"Says you."

"Says logic, common sense, and I'd bet Damian if you asked him," Micki argued. She'd thought these issues through long and hard. Her conclusions hurt, but they made perfect sense.

"If I asked him he'd say he couldn't have gotten through any of this without your support. The man needed you."

Micki cringed at her friend's words.

"What? What'd I say?" Roper asked, obviously reading her expression.

She stretched her legs out in front of her. Her body ached and she wondered if maybe she had the flu. "You nailed the other thing I've been thinking about. My whole life, I've always been taken care of. First by my parents, then by Annabelle and Uncle Yank. I've always needed other people. For the first time, someone needed me. Once Damian has his answer, once he knows whose baby it is, he's not going to need me anymore."

"All your clients need your expert advice and spin on a situation. You must know it's true, otherwise you wouldn't be as successful as you are." He ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, a sure sign Micki was confusing him.

"It's not the same thing as with the people who hire me." Something special existed between Micki and Damian, something that transcended a client-publicist relationship.

Someone she cared about had relied on her for a change. Losing him saddened her because she'd grown used to the way he'd come to need her and she liked knowing he looked to her as someone important in his life, someone he could trust with his deepest secrets. She'd spent a lot of time lately trying to come to terms with the fact that that part of her life was over.

Roper let out an exasperated sound. "Well if it makes you feel any better, I still need you," he said, treating her to his endearing grin.

The man obviously still didn't get it, which was just as well. She didn't need him psychoanalyzing her at the moment. She sneezed.

"Bless you." Roper stood. "I really should get going before I catch whatever it is you've got. I don't want to miss the autism benefit at the Pierre tomorrow night. Are you going to be up to it?"

She nodded. "After all the work Sophie and I put into it to pull it off, you'd better believe I’ll be there. The Renegades will get some extremely positive press from this."

"And we're playing so well, ticket sales are up anyway. It's all good," Roper said. "But you need to rest up."

"After my soup gets here, I could use a nap," she admitted.

"Feel better," he said as she walked him to the door.

"Thanks."

"And cut Damian some slack. The guy's been through hell but it doesn't mean things are over between the two of you."

Micki ignored him. She'd already said goodbye to Damian in the place it counted most. Her heart.

THE BALLROOM in the Pierre hotel sparkled as much as the celebrities who were attending the benefit in their designer gowns and jewels. Considering the money laid out per plate for this event, everybody had pulled out their finest formal wear. Even Micki had purchased a new gown.

The light pink chiffon complimented her skin tone, or so the lady at Saks Fifth Avenue had told her. Unfortunately, she had no place in the strapless gown to hide tissues and so she'd loaded up on Benadryl in an effort to dry herself out. She couldn't speak without sounding like a frog and her head felt like it was about to explode.

A trip to the doctor this afternoon had resulted in the diagnosis of a sinus infection and so she was on antibiotics as well, but she still wasn't about to miss this big event.

After checking on a few things, Micki headed for the bar and asked for a glass of ice water.

"You'd better make sure no one spikes your drink" a familiar voice said.

Micki drew her shoulders back and turned to face Rick Carter. "Long time no see. I'm sorry I can't say I missed you," she said to the man who'd started her roller-coaster affair with Damian Fuller.

Carter inclined his head. "I'm sorry for changing your drink order that night. I'm sorry for a lot of things," he said.

She narrowed her gaze. "You look like the Carter I know but you don't sound like him." She knew his situation with Carole had to have changed how he viewed life, but considering how he'd treated Micki in the past, she wasn't about to give him the benefit of the doubt so easily.

"I don't blame you for hating me. I just wanted to say I was sorry and maybe one day we can get past it and be friends?"

She nodded warily. "Apology accepted." She'd been taught manners, after all. "As for the future, you'll understand if I reserve judgment"

"Fair enough." He started to walk away and paused. "I really am trying to turn over a new leaf. Even if that paternity test doesn't name me-"

"You took the test already?" Micki asked, stunned.

"We sure did, though it takes two weeks to get the results."

"I see."

She knew Damian had gone to Florida with Carter but she hadn't known the result of their discussion. She certainly had no idea they'd all taken tests. Because she hadn't returned his calls, Micki thought. Instead she'd had her secretary keep her up to date on anything Damian needed professionally, and there'd been nothing. So how could she have known?

"Well good luck. I hope things turn out the way you want them to."

He inclined his head. "Thanks for that"

He walked away, leaving Micki alone with her ice water and stuffy nose. Her head hurt badly. As long as things here were under control, she might as well tell Sophie she was heading home.

Micki looked around for her sister and finally spotted her red dress across the room. She started toward Sophie when a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Going somewhere?" Damian asked.

Micki stepped back and looked into his dark gaze. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

"Why not? All the Renegades were on the invitation list."

She shrugged. "I know. I just thought…you wouldn't be in the mood for a party."

"I'm not. But (a) it's for a good cause, (b) you put the event together and (c) I knew you'd be here. Any one of those reasons works for me."

His grin turned her insides into a mushy mess. "Well thanks for coming but I was just leaving."

His smile quickly faded. "Why the rush? I was hoping to talk to you."

As much as she'd love to spend more time with him, Micki had already decided to protect her heart. "I'm not feeling well. Why don't you call me?"

"Because you don't answer my messages. Come on, one dance. We'll talk and then you can go home and take care of that cold," he said, his voice gruff and just short of pleading.