She hadn’t been talkative on the flight back from Florida. In fact she’d spent the time either sleeping or reading with her headphones firmly clamped over her ears. The carefully neutral expression on her face now suggested she wasn’t feeling any more talkative now.
But damn it, he was going to try anyway. She’d opened the chopper door for him, clearly expecting him to take up his usual spot in the passenger seats behind hers.
Screw that. He climbed into the seat next to Sara’s before she could say anything. Hard to ask a girl out when you were sitting behind her after all.
She shot him a look but kept her mouth shut. Better give her some time to cool down a little. He waited while Sara got the chopper in the air and headed toward the sparkling lights of the city before he spoke.
“Sorry about the change of plans,” he said. There, that was a nice and gentle, if somewhat boring, opening.
“It’s fine,” she said.
Fine was never a good sign.
“Did you have plans tonight?” he tried. He fervently hoped the answer was no. In retrospect, he should have tried to get that information out of her. She really was distracting him if he couldn’t even think of the basics.
“Nothing important. Like I said, it’s fine,” she said.
Two fines. Which meant she was annoyed, if not outright pissed, if his female-interpreting skills weren’t failing him. “If you did have plans, you could tell me,” he said. “We’re paying you to be a pilot, not a slave.”
This time he saw the muscle on her jaw tighten. “You’re paying me to be on call. That means ask and you shall receive.”
Oh, how he wished that were true. There were many things he wanted to ask her for. But no. She was stubborn. She’d decided to ignore whatever this was sparking between them. Even if it killed them both.
“It’s okay to let me know if you have a problem,” he said. “I’m not going to fire you if you disagree with me.”
She slanted him a look, eyes a mysterious shade in the odd light shed by the chopper’s instruments. “I’ll try to remember that.”
He shook his head and sat back, watching for a few minutes as Sara flew them through the darkness, working out what he should say next.
Sitting up here in the front of the helicopter didn’t make flying any more pleasant other than putting him within reaching distance of Sara. Watching her was a pleasure. Not just because she was gorgeous but also because of the way she flew.
She seemed part of the helicopter, moving with ease as she steered—was that the word?—and checked instruments and kept them moving forward through the air. Almost a dance. The way a good surgical team worked together. Every movement certain. Every movement purposeful.
It was clearly her world.
Despite the fact she wasn’t happy with him, he could see that she was happy in the helicopter. Relaxed in a subtle way, some of the tension she always carried with her gone while she was up here in the air.
His own tension at being up here retreated a little just watching her.
He wanted to be able to watch her more often. And not just when they were in helicopters.
The question was, how did he convince Sara to give them a chance? He watched the lights of the city growing closer and brighter as they sped through the darkness and the small half smile on Sara’s face as she flew.
At least, she was smiling until she noticed that he was watching her. Then the smile became pursed lips and brows drawing down. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just admiring the view.”
Her eyes narrowed and he grinned at her. “What, you don’t like the sight of Manhattan by night? Or did you think I was talking about something else?”
“Don’t try and charm me.”
“Why not? You seem eminently worth charming. Actually, no, scrap that. I know you’re eminently worth charming, remember?”
Her mouth flattened, and he knew that she was going to tell him off. But he’d also seen the tiny flare of her pupils. Which told him that she remembered, too.
And that she liked that memory, even if she was trying not to.
He settled back in the seat. “You do remember, don’t you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my memory,” she said in a cool tone.
“Then—”
“There’s also nothing wrong with my common sense,” she said. “So stop trying to charm me.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Try harder.”
“Oh, I’ve been trying. But I’m not a slow learner. I know that banging your head against the wall doesn’t help anything. So when trying not to think about you didn’t work, I decided to change tactics.”
She sucked in a breath, and he wondered what she was going to say about that. But then the radio crackled to life.
“Land the helicopter,” he said as she glared at it then back at him. “We can talk about this on the ground.”
* * *
Lucas waited for Sara while she completed her postflight and got organized. Of course he did. He was annoying that way.
She wanted to tell him to go, go have his fancy dinner or whatever it was his detour to the city entailed, and leave her in peace. No flirting and charming and making her forget her resolve.
She would find out how long he was going to be and then she would walk to her favorite little deli near the heliport and get some dinner, and then she’d wait for him and deliver him back to Staten Island. And out of her hair.
It was an excellent plan.
A simple plan.
Somehow, though, as she came around the helo to where he stood, looking into his very blue eyes, she didn’t think Lucas was going to let things be quite that simple.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She gestured him toward the walkway that led to the terminal building.
“Do you?”
“Well, if I did, that would’ve been ruined by your little side trip, wouldn’t it?” she muttered.
“That depends,” he said. “You said you didn’t have plans. Have you been holding out on me, Sara Charles? Did you have a hot date tonight?”
She almost laughed. Her and a hot date? Apart from the moment of idiocy with Lucas back in Sag Harbor, there had been very little heat in her life lately, and what there was 100 percent self-service. There’d been no time for dating since her dad’s accident. Not that any of that was any of Lucas’s business. “Are you always this nosy about your pilots?” she said, hoisting her flight bag up on her shoulder and turning toward the terminal.
“Only the pretty ones,” he said. “And there’s only been one pretty one.”
“Oh yes, and who was she?” she said, only half joking.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down.”
“I’m the pretty one, am I?”
“Yes.”
He reached a hand toward her, and she ducked away. “Don’t do that,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because this is somewhere I work. And I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about you and me.”
He stepped back. “What’s the wrong idea?”
“That I’m fooling around with a client.”
“That sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
“That’s because you’re the one who won’t get called a slut for doing it. And it won’t affect your professional reputation.” She started walking toward the terminal.
Lucas moved with her. “So let’s go somewhere away from this and talk about it. Because I’m sorry, Sara but I’m not giving up on you just yet.”
“Don’t you have an important dinner date or something?” she said, trying to sound casual. He had her stomach squirming and her pulse doing strange things. He wanted to have dinner with her. He wanted to see her again. It was amazing. And a disaster.
“This is it.”
She jerked to a stop. “Excuse me?”
“I wanted to come to
the city so we could have dinner,” he said simply. “I figured you wouldn’t want to on the island, given you grew up there. Not discreet enough.”
She didn’t know whether to be charmed or appalled. “You could have just asked me.”
“Would you have said yes?”
“Probably not.”
“That’s why my way is better,” he said. “C’mon, Sara. Just dinner. Let’s talk. See what happens. You never know, we might bore each other senseless and then your problem is solved.”
She really didn’t think there was a possibility in hell that he would bore her senseless over dinner. Not that she was going to tell him that. She should say no. The simple and safe plan was to say no.
“Just dinner,” he repeated. “You must be hungry. It’s nearly eight.”
He had that part right at least. She was starving. She’d been thinking wistfully of the red chicken curry takeout she’d planned for the evening ever since Lucas had told her of his change of plans.
Just dinner. How bad could it be?
“There’s a diner a block or so west of here. Meet me there and we can catch a cab,” she said.
“There’s a taxi stand just outside the terminal,” he said.
“Yes, but I’m not getting into cab with you in full view of everyone here. They all know me. And I’m guessing most of them know you.” she said. “Go to the diner and wait for me. I’ve got to do a few things first.” Not least of which was try to work out if she could make herself look like someone that Lucas Angelo might be taking out for dinner.
“What do you feel like eating?” he asked.
“I like food,” she said. “You choose.” She glanced down at her uniform. “Nothing too upmarket. I’m not dressed for upmarket.”
“You look great.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m not dressed for an expensive New York dinner.”
“Okay.” He paused, with his hand on the door. “You’re not going to leave me standing out there in the dark, are you?”
“Well, that would be kind of dumb given I have to fly you home later,” she pointed out. “So just go. I’ll be ten minutes.”
* * *
It was actually more like fifteen because the girls doing the admin with her were full of curiosity about Lucas. Apparently he was something of a frequent flier here at the heliport and had his own little fan club.
“What were you talking about?” Jenna asked. Of all the girls who worked here, Sara had known Jenna the longest. But she wasn’t exactly a BFF and there was no way Sara was telling her she was going out to dinner with Lucas.
“He was telling me about one of his cases,” Sara lied.
“Oh yeah. He’s a surgeon, right?”
“That’s right.”
Jenna sighed. “A hot rich doctor. And you get to fly him around. Nice work.”
“He’s just another passenger,” Sara said.
Jenna narrowed her eyes. “You have too many hot passengers if you think that man is just another passenger,” she said. Her expression turned curious. “One of Ron Harris’s pilots came through this morning. He said you had a gig flying for the New York Saints. So you get to fly with all three of the guys who bought the team. Is that true?”
No point denying it. “Yes.”
Jenna actually squealed and clapped her hands. “That is so awesome! What are they like? Is Alex Winters as hot as he looks on TV? Dish.”
“It’s great. And no comment,” Sara said with an apologetic smile. Then she signed the paperwork and fled before she could be grilled about anything else.
* * *
The restaurant Lucas directed the cab to was in the East Village. A tiny place that he told her served the best Greek food in the city. She was starting to feel like she could eat a horse, so she wasn’t too fussed about the restaurant’s credentials. She just wanted food.
Food would level out her blood sugar and then she wouldn’t feel quite so floaty and silly every time she looked at Lucas, right?
She took a deep breath as the waiter directed them to a table and breathed in the scent of garlic and lamb and spices appreciatively.
Happily, the waiter reappeared with a basket of bread and a platter of dips so that she didn’t start drooling while she waited for food.
She picked up bread, slathered it with the nearest dip, and bit into it.
It tasted divine—smoky and garlicky and decadent—and she closed her eyes for a moment, chewed, swallowed, and then took another bite before she opened them again.
When she did, Lucas was watching her, smiling.
“I like the way you eat,” he said. “It’s very … enthusiastic.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Me, too.” He picked up bread and swished it through the dip. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he took a bite and then licked his finger where the dip had blobbed onto his knuckle.
Sara thought her skin might just catch on fire as she watched his mouth.
Damn it. She made herself look at the menu but she couldn’t concentrate. So she picked the first thing that her eyes settled on and tried to calm down a little. This was just dinner. She pretended to keep studying the menu but the waiter reappeared all too quickly and took their orders before disappearing again. Leaving her alone with Lucas.
Who was smiling at her again.
He looked somewhat like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. Pleased with himself. Which should have been annoying, but it was hard to be annoyed with a man who seemed to be delighted to be having dinner with her.
Still, it was a little unnerving to be under the gaze of those eyes. Small talk, that was what was needed. God. She had no idea what to talk to him about.
Then she remembered baseball.
“So did you make any decisions about the pitchers?” she asked.
“You’re asking me about baseball? I thought you weren’t interested?”
“I’m not.”
“Ah. Then why did you ask?”
“It seemed polite,” she said.
He laughed then. “Are you always this polite?”
“No.” Only with gorgeous men who make me nervous and could ruin my life. “But those kids were kind of sweet. So talk to me about them. Anyone having their dreams come true?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not ready to talk about other things with you yet.”
That made his smile widen. “Do I make you nervous, Sara Charles?”
“A little.”
“I swear, I’m harmless.”
If he thought that, then he really had no idea how hot he was. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“Why?”
She waved a hand toward him. “Just look at you. You’re the kind of guy who leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake.”
“I’m really not.”
“You want me to believe that women don’t swarm around the good-looking rich doctor?”
He shrugged. “Swarm is an overstatement. I’m not a monk, if that’s what you’re asking. But neither am I a…” He trailed off, seemingly searching for the word.
“Womanizing jerk? Cad?”
“Cad?” He grinned again. “Are we in a Regency romance?”
That raised her eyebrows. “What do you know about the Regency?”
“I’ve read Pride and Prejudice.”
“You have?” She was impressed. In the army she’d known guys who had her appetite for books but their tastes, on the whole, tended toward thrillers and mysteries and science fiction. She’d never met a guy who’d read Austen. Or one who admitted it, at least.
“High school?”
“English lit in college. It was compulsory. But I liked it.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I even read Emma and Sense and Sensibility.”
Now she was fascinated despite herself. “Which is your favorite?”
“Probably Pride and Prejudice. I like Lizzy. Emma’s naive and Elinor’s a bit stuffy. Lizzy is just trying
to be herself and look after her family. What about you? Are you a Darcy fan?”
“I have kind of a soft spot for Knightley, actually.” She was a Darcy fan, actually, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. The perfect rich guy who seemed standoffish and then turned out to be a true gentleman and all-around good guy seemed a little bit too close to the reality at the moment. And she didn’t want Lucas thinking that she wanted a rich guy to ride in and save her.
“Knightley.” He studied her a moment. “Knightley sees Emma’s faults and loves her anyway,” he said. “Isn’t that a bit foolish?”
“No, it’s what love really is, isn’t it? Loving the real person. Knightley saw what Emma could really be.” She shifted in her seat, suddenly wondering if this conversation was revealing too much. “I thought we were talking about your baby pitchers.”
“But you don’t like baseball.”
But I like you. She didn’t say the words. Because she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself, really, let alone to Lucas. He’d asked her to dinner, true, said he couldn’t forget her, but it could all be a line. He could just want more sex and then he’d ride off into the sunset in his Mercedes or Porsche or whatever ridiculously expensive car it was that he drove.
The waiter appeared with their entrées and Sara waited while he arranged the plates in front of them. The bread and dip had taken the edge off her appetite so she didn’t pick up her fork as he left them alone again. “So. Baseball. I don’t know a lot about it. What I saw in Florida was okay. Maybe I’d like it if I knew more.”
“I think people who like sports tend to know it.”
“I’ve seen Field of Dreams,” she offered. “Kevin Costner was hot.”
He laughed again. “As much as my life would be easier if the Saints had a magic baseball park in a field of corn, the reality is a lot more prosaic.”
“Damn, I only took the job for Kevin and James Earl Jones.”
“Sorry to disappoint. But to come back to your original question, no, we haven’t made any final decisions. I like that Sam guy, though. He’s hungry. And good.”
“He’s pretty young. Wouldn’t coming to play for you mean dropping out of college?”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, but that’s the nature of the beast. MLB doesn’t leave a lot of time for things like studying on the side. That’s the problem with dreams, sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”
Angel in Armani Page 13