Angel in Armani (3 page)

Just his freaking luck.

It was only nine o’clock, 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 willing 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.

She flailed for a suitable topic of conversation. Small talk wasn’t her thing. “So,” she managed eventually. “What kind of doctor are you, Dr. Angelo?”

“It’s Lucas,” he said. “And I’m an orthopedic surgeon.”

A surgeon. Of course he was. And orthopedics. Most of her knowledge of medicine came from TV and her first-aid training. But she knew that one from her dad. A smashed-up leg had meant they’d gotten some quality time with the orthopedics department. “That’s bones, right?”

“Bones and muscles,” Lucas said, steering the car around a bend in the road. “I specialize in sports medicine, mostly.”

Sports. Something else she knew little about. Her dad was a football fan. Her brother had been too. But Sara had never had much time for games involving teams and balls. Her teen obsession had been flying. That hadn’t changed. “Sounds, um, glamorous,” she managed.

Lucas laughed. “People are all the same on the operating table. But yes, I meet some interesting ones.”

“Is that why you have to get back to Manhattan? For a patient?” That would be a semi-reasonable excuse for undertaking this reckless trek through the elements.

“Yes. I have a shoulder to fix.”

“That doesn’t sound like an emergency.”

“The kid’s a figure skater. A pairs skater. His shoulder is important to him.” His tone sharpened a little.

“I understand,” she said. She didn’t, not really. Could a few hours really make a difference? Enough to risk driving through this weather for?

Lucas didn’t reply. Damn. Had she upset him? Dissed his specialty?

Way to go. She really had no chance of keeping him as a client. She couldn’t even manage to talk to the man without insulting him.

After all, it wasn’t like she could ask him about the operation or anything. She wasn’t fond of blood and guts, and surgery was all about that.

“I’m sure he’s in good hands,” she managed eventually.

“He is,” Lucas agreed.

O-kay. Well, he didn’t suffer from a lack of confidence, that was for sure. But she couldn’t fault him for that. She figured you needed to be confident in your skills to pick up a piece of razor-sharp metal and slice into someone and believe that you could put them back together again better than when you started. Just like she was confident that she could take someone up into the air in several tons of metal and bring them back down again in one piece. Some things you needed to know you were good at.

Pity that she was all too aware of the things she wasn’t good at tonight. Things like major storms and ridiculously hot men and small talk.

She wriggled a little against the leather seat.

“Are you cold?” he asked. He stretched his right hand toward the screen on the dashboard. It looked more complex than the instrument panels in the A-Star. And a lot more high-tech.

But he apparently was more than familiar with it, pressing the touch screen without really looking.

“No,” she said. “I’m fine.” The seats were heated and the car itself was warm enough, though she could feel the cold air outside from the chill emanating off the window. Far better to be inside the car than out, even factoring in the disconcerting company.

“Good,” he said. “But let me know if you are.” He nodded toward the dash and the display. “The temperature is dropping out there.”

“Odd to get a thunderstorm in winter,” Sara said. “Crazy weather.”

“According to science, crazy weather is going to be the new normal,” Lucas said seriously.

“Don’t say things like that to a pilot,” she said, only half joking. “I like nice calm weather.”

“You should become a pilot somewhere with a more temperate climate then,” Lucas said. “Find an island somewhere warm.”

“Tempting,” she said, trying not to picture Lucas in swim trunks lying on a tropical beach. “But I’m a New York kind of gal. I like the city. Staten is as island as I get.”

“Me, too,” Lucas said. “Though there are times when a tropical island seems appealing,” he added cryptically. He shifted down a gear to take a corner and another bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, giving Sara a better glimpse of the world outside. The trees lining the road were bending furiously in the wind. She shivered.