Page 29 of Angel In Armani

Why was he here? Had he finally gotten around to calling the cops on her? She leaned sideways a little, trying to see if there was anyone with him.

“Don’t worry,” he said drily. “I didn’t bring the police.”

She straightened hastily, pasting her best I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about expression in place and trying to ignore the memories of their night together that were whirling through her brain again now she knew he wasn’t going to have her arrested. “Why would you bring the police?” she asked, going for innocent.

Brilliant-blue eyes studied her a moment. Then, slowly, one very dark eyebrow lifted at her. “Well, there was that time where you stole my car.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did not steal your car.” Denial, that was the ticket.

“I woke up, you were gone, and so was the car.”

She folded her arms across her chest, calling his bluff. “I returned a rental car for you. I even paid the bill. That’s not stealing by any definition. I don’t care how much your lawyer charges by the hour, if you try to get that through a court, you’ll get bounced.” Now she was the one bluffing. Hopefully he didn’t know that.

“You left me stranded in the middle of nowhere.” His tone was very flat.

“It looks like you made it back to the city in one piece to me, Dr. Angelo.”

“No thanks to you,” he muttered, mouth thinning.

Even thinned his lips looked pretty good. Nope. She straightened further. She was not going to think about his lips. Or any other part of him.

Yeah, good luck with that.

“I refunded your fare,” she said. “Was there a problem with the check?” Her mind went horribly blank for a moment as she tried to remember if that payment had gone through already. Because her dwindling bank balance would dwindle a lot more if she’d miscalculated by five grand.

“No problem with the check.”

If he thought she was going to ask him if he had another problem, then he was crazy. “As I said, we’re not open right now?—”

“I need a pilot.” His voice, if anything, had gone even flatter. A muscle ticced on the side of his jaw. Her pulse bumped in response.

Oh dear. Dr. Gorgeous was annoyed about something. About what, exactly, other than the car, she had no idea. And the car had been nearly three weeks ago, so surely—if he wasn’t upset enough to involve the police—he should have cooled down about that by now?

Then what he had said finally registered with her brain. He wanted a pilot. Hope flared like a rocket then died just as fast when she remembered she had no helo.

“Well, New York has plenty of those,” she said, trying not to let the disappointment creep through to her voice.

“I want a pilot I know,” he said.

“Is that doctor-speak for you’re offering me a job?” she asked. She was going to have to say no, so might as well just get it over with fast.

“Yes.”

She could have cried. Here was Lucas Angelo on her doorstep. Exactly what she needed.

Exactly what she wanted, the evil part of her brain piped up. She stomped on the thought. Hard. She needed his money, not his body. Yet once again the universe was conspiring to make it so that she couldn’t have it. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“Is that no because you don’t want the job or no because your helicopter is damaged?”

She started. “How do you know my helicopter is damaged?”

“You didn’t return my calls. I called Ellen Jacek while I was trying to track you down. She mentioned it. And I made a not-so-gigantic leap of logic to conclude that it hasn’t been fixed yet because you aren’t taking customers.”

“There could be other reasons.”

“Are there other reasons?”

Sara sighed. “No.”

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