Page 7 of Angel In Armani

“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.

They drove on a little longer in silence, the road becoming all either of them focused on.

“So how did you become a helicopter pilot?” Lucas asked when they were safely back on a stretch of straight road and the rain had eased up.

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