Page 38 of Angel In Armani

“Sounds like you’ve had a pretty crappy year then.”

Damn it. The last thing she needed was him being thoughtful and sympathetic. She made a noncommittal noise.

“You know, what you need is some fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yes. When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

Back in that motel room. She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t say it out loud. “I have lots of fun.”

He made a disbelieving noise, and this time she did turn her head to glare at him. He was grinning at her.

“You don’t know me,” she said. “Or what I do.”

His head tilted, the shade of his eyes in the odd cabin lighting suddenly a deep deep blue that spoke of night and bed and wicked delicious things. “I know some things you do very well.”

“Shut up.” She turned back, focused on the horizon, trying to figure out exactly how much longer this flight was going to last. How much longer he could drive her crazy.

“Spoken like someone who knows she’s losing the argument.”

“Not being interested in having this discussion with you is not the same thing as losing the argument.”

He laughed. “Depends on why you don’t want to have the discussion. If you were a patient of mine and told me that in the last year your dad had been in a serious crash and you’d had to change jobs and you were obviously working yourself way too hard, then I’d tell you to let go a little. Be selfish, take some time for yourself. Be a little bad for once instead of the good girl.”

She felt her fingers tighten on the controls again. Be bad. Do what she wanted. Be free. That sounded … dangerous. It also sounded divine. Which only proved that it was dangerous. And that she needed to ignore Lucas Angelo.

“What do you know about being bad?” she said. “You’ve got good boy written all over you.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re a surgeon. You’re successful. You’re so well put together it makes my teeth hurt. Textbook good boy. Your family must love you.”

“Actually, I’m kind of the black sheep in my family.”

“What? What family doesn’t want their kid to grow up to be a doctor?”

“Mine. I should have done a good sensible business course and law school or an MBA. Right now I should be running one of the family businesses and having many children. And I definitely shouldn’t be buying baseball teams. Like I said, they’re still pretty horrified about that.”

She squelched the thought of how pretty Lucas’s children would be. “So why did you?”

“Because I love baseball. And I’d be miserable running a business. So I know all about rebelling and being bad. And I recommend it. So, want to give it a go? You could start by having dinner with me tonight.”

Yes! Her mind practically shrieked the word. But just then, she heard the chatter of the JFK tower. Thank God for air traffic control. Reminding her of reality. She needed to fly. She needed to work. So she couldn’t want or need Lucas. “No,” she said firmly and started to concentrate on getting back down safely on solid ground.

Chapter Nine

He was here to think about baseball, not women. But that was proving difficult.

Sleep deprivation, that was it. He just needed caffeine. Which was why he was pouring his third coffee of the morning.

They’d arrived at Vero Beach at o’dark thirty, thanks to a delay in the flight from New York. Sara had slept on the plane. He, of course, had not. Having her curled up under a blanket in the seat next to his hadn’t made it easy for him to concentrate on the work he’d brought with him. Not when what he wanted to do was wake her up and see if she was interested in joining the mile-high club. Or even in just talking to him to take his mind off the flight.

His alarm had sounded far too soon after he’d fallen asleep. Which hadn’t been for an hour or so after he’d crawled into bed. His body had been far too aware of the fact that Sara was just a few rooms away from him. It didn’t seem to care that she’d shut him down pretty firmly on the flight to JFK.

His body was a hopeless, hormone-infested optimist.

He, however, had to be a realist. Do what he was here to do. Ignore the sexy pilot girl.

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