Angel in Armani

by Melanie Scott

  The one she wished didn’t make her skin spark with awareness every time she saw him. The one that made her desperately need a little more control over her own body.

  Thankfully the walk to the terminal building was a short one. Dr. Angelo held the door for her—of course he was the kind of guy who would hold a door for her—and she walked into the terminal, looking around to see who was on the desk.

  She spotted Ellen Jacek, who ran the airfield with her husband, before Ellen spotted them. But not much before. Ellen’s dark eyes widened and a smile of appreciation bloomed on her face as she took in Dr. Angelo. Which was gratifying in a way. It meant it wasn’t just Sara who was dumb enough to react to the sight of him.

  But like her, Ellen was a professional, and her smile smoothed into something more welcoming as she came toward them.

  “Sara, honey. How are you? How’s your dad?”

  Sara returned her brief hard hug. “I’m good. And Dad’s doing better. Hoping to get back in the air in a few more months.” She remembered why she was there. “Ellen Jacek, this is Dr. Angelo. I think there should be a car waiting for him?”

  “Oh sure, Dean delivered it a while back. It’s parked out front.” Ellen turned her attention to Lucas. “Nice ride. I’ve got the keys over at the desk.” She headed in that direction and Lucas strode after her, leaving Sara to follow behind. She did so, listening to Ellen chatter and Lucas give short answers until Ellen reached the desk, leaned over it, and grabbed a set of keys before passing them to Lucas.

  “It’s the red one out front,” she said.

  “Red?” Lucas queried.

  “Dean said to say he was sorry but there was an issue with the car you requested. So he gave you this one instead.” Ellen grinned at Lucas. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to borrow my truck and I’ll take the Mercedes for a spin.”

  Lucas tilted his head at her. Sara couldn’t quite see his expression from where she was standing but Ellen’s cheeks flushed slightly and she smiled, so presumably it was amused not angry.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” he said, dropping the keys into his jacket pocket. He turned back to Sara.

  “I’ll call you when I’m leaving the party. It should be around ten.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll be here.”

  He nodded just as his phone started to ring. He fished it out of his jacket pocket and glanced at the screen before taking the call. While he spoke, Sara watched him, getting in a few more seconds of tuxedoed-glory-appreciation time. There was much to appreciate. But sadly appreciation was all there was going to be, so she forced at least part of her attention onto making a plan for the hours ahead. Hopefully Ellen would lend her the truck so she could at least drive to the beach and get in a walk on the sand and pretend she was wealthy enough to own one of the gorgeous houses lining the shore.

  After that there was paperwork stuffed in her flight bag that needed her attention. More correspondence with her dad’s insurance company in dense legalese that she had to interpret and decide how to respond to. That painful task would earn her a few hours vegging out with her eReader and takeout in the tiny upstairs pilots’ lounge while she waited for the good doctor to be done with whatever beautiful-people gathering it was that he was attending.

  Not actually that much different from what she’d have been doing on a Friday night after a long week anyway, when she thought about it. Which was just sad. She couldn’t, off the top of her head, think of the last time she’d been out. With her dad out of action, there’d just been too much work picking up the slack to want to do more than stay in and catch up on sleep when she got some downtime. Do the good and sensible thing.

  Tired pilots made mistakes. And Charles Air really couldn’t afford another mistake. She’d flown exhausted and riding on adrenaline in the service but she didn’t have to now. She wouldn’t. Even when there were a thousand and one things calling for her attention, she tried to make sure she didn’t wear herself out. Sleep and rest were more important than bars and restaurants and the dating merry-go-round right now. Even if her therapist had made a few pointed comments about rebuilding her social life in their last session. Her best friend, Viv, had started to nag, too.

  Lucas hung up his phone at last and Sara dragged her thoughts back to the present and him. Her client.

  Her paying client. She was here to make his life easier, not obsess about her own. Was there anything she’d forgotten to tell him about the arrangements for the flight back? Nothing sprang to mind. Which meant it was time to stop admiring him in his tuxedo and let him disappear. But she allowed herself one last quick once-over and her eyes snagged on the laptop bag ruining the line of his jacket as it hung from his very broad shoulder. “You’re welcome to leave your laptop bag here with me,” she said. “Save you dragging it around.”

  “We have some secure lockboxes,” Ellen added. “It’ll be safe.”

  He nodded. “That would be helpful, thank you.” He held out the bag and Sara took it, ignoring the tiny flare of heat that rippled through her when her fingers brushed his. Holding his laptop was as close as she was ever going to get to Lucas Angelo. And as she watched through the glass terminal doors while he climbed into a red convertible and then sped off into the distance, she tried very hard to ignore the part of her that really, really wished she was speeding off with him.

  Chapter Two

  Intent on working the party, Lucas didn’t notice the rain.

  The hum of conversation and the music playing through the sound system was loud enough to drown the world outside. Besides, he was focused on doing what he had come to do. Hunting for potential season ticket holders and corporate sponsors. Winning people over. Making them want to throw cash at the Saints.

  Cash they needed. He and Alex and Mal had all put their share in, but they couldn’t keep throwing their personal funds into the team. Well, Alex probably could, given he was richer than God, and Lucas was not without his own resources. But that didn’t matter. The team needed to become self-sustaining. Had to function as a Major League Baseball team. Otherwise they, too, would eventually have to cut their losses. And at that point the chances of the Saints surviving without leaving New York were about a million to one.

  Baseball teams were expensive to run. They were even more expensive when you were trying to recruit new talent and replace some of the existing team who’d decided to ply their trade elsewhere after the change in owners. They’d lost their second and third best pitchers and several other players. Pitchers were expensive. All players were expensive.

  So they needed supporters. The Saints couldn’t compete against the deep, deep pockets of the top teams, but every little bit helped and Lucas would do his best to add to the coffers tonight. So he shook hands and made small talk and smiled at women in expensive dresses and even more expensive jewelry and shut everything else out of his mind for the time he had allocated to this task.

  He did, however, notice when the lights flickered and the room went still for a moment. Then laughter broke out as the bulbs steadied and everyone clinked glasses, shrugged, and moved on. Which was the sensible reaction when you were down for the weekend and had no pressing need to be back in the city first thing in the morning.

  A storm didn’t matter in those circumstances.

  It did matter if you were planning to fly back to the city in a helicopter.

  He excused himself from the conversation he’d been having with a couple who knew his mother and had spent the last ten minutes grilling him about her various charities. Stepping out of the main room, he pulled out his phone.

  The signal was low—another casualty of the weather perhaps—but he had enough to open the weather app and find out what exactly the weather was doing. As he viewed the less-than-good figures on current rainfall and wind speed, the lights flickered again.

  He didn’t need to read the warnings on the app to know that wasn’t good.

  Just his freaking luck.

  It was only nine o’cl
ock, earlier than he’d planned on leaving, but making it back to Manhattan and his morning surgeries was more important than another half an hour of schmoozing. He just didn’t have any room in his schedule right now. If he didn’t make it back to the city, then some of his surgeries would be bumped. And for what he did, time was of the essence, particularly when it came to athletes. A delay in surgery could mean the difference between merely a good recovery and being able to compete again.

  Delays meant him failing.

  He didn’t fail.

  So. First order of the business was to get back to the airfield, get Sara to fire up that infernal helicopter—his stomach swooped a little at the thought of flying through a storm of all things—and hopefully they could get back to the city.

  There, a plan. Everything was just fine.

  Mind made up, he went to find his host, say his good-byes, and make a getaway.

  * * *

  “Not going to happen,” Sara said bluntly. She’d been waiting for him at the tiny terminal, had even come out to the car with an umbrella for him when he’d pulled up outside the main doors. She looked cute slightly damp, the moisture making the ends of her hair curl even more, her eyes taking on some of the storm in the odd glow coming from the lights outside the terminal. He’d been taken for a second by the sight of her, braced against the wind that lifted her hair, but that was only until he’d asked her how long it would be before they could get in the air and she’d looked first apologetic and then determined as she delivered the bad news. Cute apparently came packaged with uncompromising.

  Lucas blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Angelo,” Sara said. “And we will, of course, refund you the return flight.” Her expression turned vaguely regretful as she said this before it went back to being resolute. “But I can’t fly you back tonight.”

  “The weather isn’t that bad, is it?” he asked hopefully. As if in answer, thunder rumbled overhead. A few seconds later the terminal—which was only half lit—brightened considerably as a flash of lightning followed on its heels.

  “Trust me, you do not want to be in a helicopter that’s struck by lightning,” Sara said.

  He tried to ignore the mental image that conjured up. “Couldn’t we get ahead of the storm?”

  Thunder rumbled again, and she started a little. Then jerked her head toward the window and the rain pouring from the sky. “The storm’s already here,” she said. “So no.”

  “I have to be back in the city in the morning,” Lucas said.

  Her determined expression didn’t alter. “I’m sorry but I can’t fly you. Not until the weather clears.”

  Lucas scowled out at the storm. He had patients who needed surgery. So he needed to get home. “When is that likely to be?”

  “Best-case scenario is somewhere close to first light. More likely to be midmorning, though, looking at the size of the storm.”

  Sunrise. At this time of year, that was about seven thirty. So he wouldn’t be at the hospital until nine, depending on the traffic from the heliport. Two hours after his first surgery was scheduled to start. Meaning a screwed-up schedule and guaranteed chaos. And if the storm didn’t lift until midmorning, things would be even worse. He didn’t do chaos.

  Crap. Though, as lightning flared across the sky again, he decided that he couldn’t argue with her about the fact that flying through an electrical storm wasn’t the smart solution to his problem. Which meant he needed another way.

  Like the car waiting outside the terminal.

  It was a long drive back to Manhattan, and it would be longer given the weather and the fact it was already getting late. He scrubbed a hand over his face and wished he’d had more coffee at the party.

  He needed to be alert.

  He turned to Sara, who was staring out at the sky, a mix of irritation and wariness in her frown.

  “I need to get back. I’m going to drive.”

  Her eyebrows lifted.

  “My weather app doesn’t show the storm being so bad in that direction. So here’s my proposition. Keep me company so I stay awake. And keep my return fare, of course.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “But my helo is here.”

  “I’ll pay for a car to bring you back down here tomorrow morning, and you can fly back. You said it yourself, you can’t fly anywhere tonight. So what do you think?”

  Thunder boomed suddenly and he thought he saw her flinch, though it was difficult to tell in the darkness. But as the sound rumbled on, her shoulders squared and she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “It’s a deal.”

  * * *

  This might have been the stupidest thing she’d ever done, Sara thought as she climbed into the Mercedes and sank into a leather seat that curved around her invitingly. The car was low and sleek, and Lucas was an uncomfortably large presence beside her. She would have felt better if they were in an SUV or something built for bad weather.

  Who was she kidding? She would have felt better anywhere but in such a small space with Lucas Angelo. Because then she would have been able to maintain her denial about just how gorgeous the man was. Gorgeous enough to talk her into driving for hours through a storm.

  Of course, the money didn’t hurt, either. If there was one thing she needed, it was cold hard cash. And after this evening’s debacle, no doubt Dr. Gorgeous would be finding a chopper pilot who was more willing to do his bidding and fly him into a hurricane if need be, so there went the likelihood that he’d become what she’d been hoping was her first new regular client since she’d taken the reins of Charles Air.

  It was hard to get new clients when the first thing that came up in any Google search about your company was a chopper crash.

  No, it hadn’t been her dad’s fault—even the NTSB investigation agreed on that point—and he’d had no passengers in the chopper at the time. But it was a crash all the same. It wasn’t a great first impression, and she’d fought for every booking since she’d come home to run things. But couple the crash with the fact that she was operating with only one helo and she was barely covering expenses. She needed clients like Lucas. Rich, frequent fliers who needed to get somewhere fast.

  Only less pretty.

  Because then she could keep her eyes firmly on the prize.

  She drew in a breath. Mistake. Because the air inside of the car carried a hint of whatever it was that he wore as cologne or aftershave. It was faintly spicy, a touch smoky, and seemed purposely designed as Sara-bait.

  The scent made her stomach warm. Made her want to lean in and breathe deeper. Which she so wasn’t going to do.

  She was quite close enough already, with only a foot or so separating them.

  Lucas was focused on driving as they wound their way back from the airfield to the main road. The car might be small but it was powerful, and he steered it with a skill that spoke of confidence and familiarity. The way pilots handled a helo they’d flown a thousand times before.

  Maybe he had the same car?

  She tried to remember if she’d ever seen his car, but no. He’d booked his first flight through their website, and he’d never been to the small airfield where they hangared the helicopters. She’d always picked him up from a heliport.

  But if she had to guess, she’d put money on the fact that he did drive something like this. Something expensive and built for speed.

  He’d want a car that would get him where he wanted to go fast.

  He didn’t like being delayed, that was clear from his determination to get back to the city.

  The rain seemed heavier when they cleared the town and Lucas bumped the windshield wipers to speed them up. Even so, the windshield ran with water, blurring the world outside.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Sara asked. “It’s not too late to turn back. Ellen has a couple of rollaways upstairs at the terminal.” Dumb, Sara. If Lucas needed a bed for the night, he’d probably just pick up his phone and have any number of people who owned ridiculously expensive houses here wil
ling to offer him a bed.

  No doubt the females among them would be glad to share it with him.

  “I mean, you could get some sleep and leave early. The storm might blow over sooner.” She had her doubts about that but hey, optimism never hurt anyone. That was what her therapist kept telling her.

  Lucas glanced in her direction. “We’ll be fine.” He flashed a grin that was almost as brilliant as the lightning flickering above them. “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

  She laughed, startled. A joke? From silent but gorgeous? He’d already spoken more words to her today than in the entire time she’d known him—and now he was cracking jokes? “You did not just say that.”

  “Hey, it’s a classic line. And it worked.”

  “Worked?” she echoed.

  “It made you laugh,” he said with another blinding smile.

  He wanted to make her laugh? Why? Was he flirting with her? Dr. Gorgeous?

  Surely not. She was headset hair and engine grease. He was designer tuxedos, fancy Hamptons parties, and chartered helicopter flights. It was very clear she was Not His Kind.

  Damn it. She squelched the depressing thought and tried to keep herself focused on reality.

  “After all,” Lucas said, “you’re meant to be keeping me awake. You can’t do that staring out the windshield.”

  “I don’t want to distract you.” There was another flash of lightning as she spoke, and the rain intensified. The sound of it competed with the rumble of the car’s engine, the beat making her neck tense.

  “You won’t distract me.”

  He sounded confident. At least one of them was. She really didn’t like being out in storms.

  She tried to think of the plus side of getting back to the city. Sleeping in her own bed. Being able to get home and get Dougal back from her neighbor early. He didn’t like storms, either. Which made for interesting times when a ninety-pound dog tried to crawl into her lap at the first rumble of thunder. Lightning flashed again, even brighter, and she ran out of ideas. Maybe Lucas Angelo wasn’t going to be distracted, but she was starting to crave a little distraction herself. So. Talking. To the gorgeous doctor. The relatively complete stranger gorgeous doctor.