High Octane Page 9

  “Jerk,” she mumbled.

  “Easy now,” Frank said dryly, snapping her back to the present. “I’ve been called a jerk by pretty women plenty of times, but not usually after I tell one she’s wonderful.”

  “Amazing,” Sabrina corrected, setting the stage for what she wanted. “You called me amazing.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re wonderful and amazing. This is where you say ‘thank you, Frank.’ Or even ‘I know.’ Or ‘told you so.’ Not where you call me a jerk.”

  “Does this mean you’ll stop bugging me about attending political functions?”

  “If you really want me to,” he said. “But check your email. I sent you some interesting tidbits on the soldier-turned-bank robber. Then get to work on part two of the Marco spread. You gave us the Can Cola and Red Rock conflict in story one. Give me something good week two. I expect the phones and email to light up next week, like they are today.” He disappeared down the hall.

  Frank was elated, and hadn’t said a word to her about politics, except for the MIA wife, all week long. She should be elated, excited, thrilled to the bone. She was on her way to a new career, a new life. That made it a good day. Good. Day.

  She itched to read that email from Frank. Told herself not to. Told herself to object. To have him forward it elsewhere. Her finger was almost on the delete key when the phone on the desk jangled. Sabrina inhaled and stared at the offending device.

  She reached for the phone. “This is Sabrina.”

  “Read the email,” Frank ordered and hung up.

  Sabrina grimaced and hung up the phone, then opened the email that read, “Look at the date on the attached.” She frowned and pressed the key to bring the attachment into view. It was a copy of the mayor’s visitation register that showed the wife of the dead soldier visiting him, then another copy of the same document, that had been edited to erase her name. She eyed the date and her jaw dropped. The wife had visited the mayor before her husband had died. What the heck was going on?

  She quickly typed an email to a friend in a high place to see what she could find out about the soldier’s military unit, and then another to a medical specialist she knew who’d been a credible source in the past. She knew someone well up in the Army ranks, as well, a friend of her father’s, but getting him to talk would mean first talking to her father. She’d hold off on that contact as long as she could. She’d barely finished typing the emails when her phone rang again. She grabbed it. “I saw the document,” she said, without giving Frank time to talk. “And yes, I’ll look into the story further, but I’m only helping, someone else can take any credit. No—I don’t, so don’t ask.”

  “I expected no after you ignored my calls for a week, but you could at least say hello first,” came the warm, sexy, maddening voice so unmistakably Ryan’s.

  “Funny,” Sabrina said before hesitation could form. “I thought you liked the word no far more than yes.”

  “I like yes very much,” he said, his voice a soft purr of seduction.

  She snorted. “Just not from me.”

  “Most definitely from you.”

  She could feel her jaw tense. “Right. That’s why you left. Because you wanted me.”

  “I want you, but I want you honest. Not reacting to emotion you may regret the next morning. But that night, things were, as you like to say…complicated. Under the same circumstances, I’d still do the same thing.”

  Emotions spun inside her and settled in her chest with a thundering jolt. She wanted to see Ryan. She wanted to touch Ryan. She wanted him to want her so much he couldn’t walk away like he had. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. And it upset her on some deep, irrational level that she blamed on some feminine need, bordering on fantasy, to feel desired by a man as ruggedly male as Ryan. That had to be it. There could be no other reason. They barely knew each other.

  When she didn’t immediately respond, he gave her a reprieve with a lighter subject. “I saw your Marco feature. It’s good, Sabrina. Really good.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved, the change in topic allowing her a chance to regroup. “It would never have happened without your help.”

  “My help wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t turned the interview and the presentation into gold. I’m sure you’ll soon have the new career. That is, if you decide you still want it.”

  Still want it? What did that mean? She would have asked, but he spoke first. “We should talk,” he said softly. “In person.”

  “No,” she said quickly when she wanted to say yes. Wanting him more than he wanted her would only mean heartache she couldn’t withstand right now. Resolve thickening, she repeated, “No. I think it’s better we leave things as they are. I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason.”

  Suddenly, Jennifer appeared in her doorway, smiling and waving a hand, looking adorable in jeans and a blue-and-white plaid shirt. She tipped her hand back and pretended to drink, and then mouthed, “Happy hour.”

  “Sabrina—” Ryan started.

  “I have to go,” she said. “I’ve got a visitor. Thanks for calling. It was—” she paused for the right choice of words “—good to hear from you.”

  She could hear his hesitation, his frustration, crackle through the phone line, before he said, “Goodbye, Sabrina.” And the line clicked. Sabrina’s stomach pretty much hit the floor at the sound. That was it. She should be relieved. And she would be. Soon.

  Sabrina motioned Jennifer forward. “Did someone say happy hour?”

  WITH A GRIMACE, Ryan ended the call with Sabrina, his boots scraping off the wooden desk of his Hotzone office where they’d rested. He planted his feet solidly on the ground. Damn it to hell, the woman was killing him. Giving him mental whiplash. Never in his life had he had a woman do this to him. Thank God the Army had contracted a skydiving training camp at the Hotzone—he’d been absorbed with it all week, sunup to sundown. Otherwise, he might have gone and seen Sabrina, and made a real fool of himself. At least he’d got the proverbial “Dear John” slap in the face by phone.

  In avoidance mode, Ryan headed to the lobby of the Hotzone, determined not to speak to anyone, feeling fouler than foul and he knew it. But before he made it down the narrow hallway, he heard his name.

  It was Bobby, and he could hear Caleb mumbling in the background.

  Groaning inwardly, Ryan called over his shoulder. “Whatever it is has to wait. I’m outta here.” The last thing he wanted right now was to talk business, which had been all the Aces had been about for a month. Which was cool and all, but not now, not tonight.

  “What if we said dollar beer on draft was involved?” Caleb shouted.

  Ryan stopped walking. Turned on his heels. “I’d say…what are we waiting for?”

  SHORTY’S WAS A COUNTRY BAR complete with cowboys, women in tight jeans and lots of loud talking and laughing. Eyeing the couples sashaying around the dance floor near her table, a memory of dancing with Ryan, all close and cozy, assailed her. Why, oh, why, had she agreed to this?

  The two-dollar happy-hour margaritas that she and Jennifer had ordered appeared on the table, and Sabrina’s eyes lit. “Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I need right now.” Sitting at a high wooden table next to Jennifer, she sipped long and deep.

  A tall cowboy with sandy-brown hair appeared in front of the table. “Howdy there, ma’am,” he said. “Wanna dance?”

  Sabrina looked at Jennifer. Jennifer laughed. “He’s talking to you.”

  “Me?” she silently mouthed, and jerked her gaze to his. “Oh, no. No. I mean, thank you, but I came to drink. No dancing.”

  The guy gazed at her with a bit of a wounded look and then turned tail. “Jeez,” Sabrina said. “I need to make a sign that says Unsafe On The Dance Floor.”

  “What fun is that?” Jennifer said. “Dancing makes the world a better place.” She snickered. “Or maybe it’s margaritas.”

  “Hear, hear,” Sabrina agreed, taking a big swallow. “And I don’t get this ‘ma’am
’ stuff. How is making me feel old going to get me to dance? Or anywhere else for that matter.”

  “This is Texas, Sabrina,” Jennifer said. “Ma’am is just part of the culture. It’s not about age.”

  Jennifer’s cell phone buzzed with a text message. “Oh, good,” she said after reading it, pushing to her feet to wave through the crowd. “Bobby!” He appeared through the crowd and Jennifer motioned him forward before sitting back down. “I’ve barely seen him all week. The Hotzone just landed a contract to train small groups of soldiers for the Army. The guys worked darn near around the clock all week.”

  The guys, meaning Bobby, Caleb and Ryan. So Ryan had been consumed all week. A tiny part of Sabrina lit with that news, clinging to an excuse as to why he might not have come by to see her.

  Suddenly, Caleb appeared in the crowd, directly behind Bobby, both men striding across the room with that same confident, dominant vibe that Ryan possessed. Sabrina held her breath, wondering if Ryan was about to appear, her heart thundering in her ears.

  But Ryan was nowhere to be found. Sabrina told her self it was relief she felt, though the ball in her stomach screamed of disappointment.

  Bobby appeared by Jennifer’s side and gave her a hug and kiss. Caleb took up command on the opposite side of the table, giving Sabrina a quick “hello” before flagging a waiter. Soon, the beer was flowing, and the laughter with it.

  Caleb offered her his hand. “Hi. Caleb. I think we were supposed to jump together, weren’t we?”

  “The timing wasn’t right,” Jennifer said. “Ryan was going to take her up for you, but then Marco showed up.”

  “So when are you coming back out?” Caleb asked. “I’ll take you up.” He smiled, friendly rather than flirtatious. “I’m nicer than Ryan.”

  Probably true, but not more interesting and definitely not hotter. Her cheeks flamed instantly with the thought, and Sabrina quickly sipped her drink and tried to hide the reaction. Then she replied, “I think I’ll pass. It was one of those fleeting, daredevil things that I talked myself out of.”

  Caleb tipped his drink back and studied her. “Ryan didn’t scare you away, did he?”

  No. She’d scared him away. “Jumping was Jennifer’s idea. I shouldn’t have listened.”

  “She’s a control freak,” Jennifer chimed.

  “Ryan would have scared the crap out of you, then,” he said, and then frowned, eying Bobby. “Speaking of Ryan. Where is he? He said he was coming.”

  “He pulled off at the gas station a few miles back,” Bobby said. “He’ll be here.”

  “What’d he do?” Caleb asked. “Use a water hose to fill his tank?”

  Sabrina felt every nerve-ending in her body come to life. She’d said nothing to Jennifer about Ryan. Told her nothing beyond the ride with Marco. Ryan was her little secret.

  “There he is!” Bobby shouted, and then whistled. “Ryan! Over here!”

  Sabrina wasn’t prepared for this. Hadn’t counted on this. She leaned into Jennifer. “Restroom break. Be right back.” Sabrina didn’t wait for an answer, quickly weaving into the crowd, careful to avoid Ryan’s path. The restroom was behind the DJ booth, on the other side of the room, which was good because it gave her more time to figure out how to get out of this mess. She wasn’t up to facing her one-night stand that wasn’t really a one-night stand, but a night of embarrassment.

  She darted around the corner of the open archway leading to a row of mirrors and chairs. A chair. Oh, yes. Sabrina sank into the faux-leather seat, her knees wobbling.

  “You okay, sweetie?” a tall woman in a sparkly T-shirt and tight-fitting jeans asked her, sounding far more motherly than her appearance suggested. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…or an ex-boyfriend.”

  Sabrina tried to smile. “Just a guy with a bad two-step, right onto my feet. Hiding. Hoping he goes away.”

  The woman chuckled and waved a hand. “Good strategy. Hope it works.” She headed for the door, sashaying away, swinging her hips wildly.

  One woman after another whisked in and out of the restroom, and Sabrina realized that she couldn’t stay here forever. Jennifer would come looking for her. No. She needed to sneak out of the bar and call Jennifer from the car. Make her escape.

  Sabrina pushed to her feet and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She barely recognized herself, and it wasn’t because her business suit had been traded for black jeans and a black V-neck tank that morning.

  She was not her father’s daughter here, she realized. And she liked that. Sure, race-car driving didn’t excite her. Politics didn’t excite her. But the American dream did. People did. Heroes of the people. A soldier who’d once committed to protecting the innocent, but who’d become a bank robber. What caused that? How could it have been prevented? Those were her type of stories. But dang, she thought, straightening, she’d use this feature on Marco to open doors, to find her stories of the heart. She liked that she had her own life. And no one, not even a hot cowboy who’d turned her down when she’d taken a risk with him, was going to stop her.

  Sabrina headed to the door. She wasn’t sneaking away. She wasn’t running. And, never mind that Ryan Walker, she was going to use his dance lessons with everyone but him to prove to him she was resilient. To prove to herself she was truly in control of her own destiny. And no one was going to take that away from her.

  12

  PULLING BACK HER SHOULDERS, Sabrina marched toward the restroom exit, through the door and barely managed to draw to a halt before barreling into the tall, hard man leaning in an oh-so-casual stance against the wall.

  Sabrina silently gulped, refusing to back away despite the too-close-for-comfort proximity. Calling on years of socializing, she enlisted her own oh-so-casual coolness. “Ryan,” she said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Liar,” he said, reaching for her and bringing her so close they were knee to knee. His hand was big, warm. Her arms tingled to the shoulder. “You ran when you saw me.”

  “It was my turn,” she said, deciding not to hide the truth. “You ran last time.” The music saved her from saying more. Like how she’d dared to think he was the guy she could let go with, only to find out he only wanted her when she fitted some ideal he was fantasizing about.

  “Yet here we are,” he said. “Things happen for a reason, right? It must be a sign.”

  Sabrina could feel him in every inch of her body, could smell him and even taste him on her tongue. Damn him. She sidestepped him. “It’s a sign I need a drink.”

  He shackled her arm gently, held her by his side, but said nothing, the shadows hiding his eyes, but not their impact. And when she thought he would speak, he simply released her. Sabrina released the breath she’d been unconsciously holding and all but ran back to the table.

  HE SAT ACROSS FROM HER, like the hot sun on a Texas day—inescapable, scorching. It was an hour after their restroom-door encounter, and Sabrina—a one-drink kind of girl—was on her third margarita, feeling a buzz in a big way. But she didn’t care. She was tired of limits, the kind of limits Ryan swore he helped people push past, yet with her, he’d pulled her back. He’d given her limits like everyone else in her life. She hated him for that. But she still wanted him, infuriatingly so. He sat directly across from her, Caleb by his side, Jennifer and Bobby to her left—the three Aces chatting it up about their training camp at the Hotzone this week. Every time Ryan’s eyes found hers, a touch without a touch, invisible sparks crackled in the air so fiercely she thought them impossible to hide. If anyone noticed they didn’t comment, but Sabrina thought she caught a knowing glance from Jennifer a few times. No doubt, tomorrow would come with questions.

  And no matter how Sabrina tried to absorb herself in chatter of her own with Jennifer, the Aces and Ryan entwined themselves in the conversation.

  “That Kris Wilks kid I told you about,” Bobby said, grinning, talking mostly to Jennifer. “Ryan scared the holy crap out of him today.”

  Caleb almost choked on hi
s beer. “Kid thought he was dead when his main chute didn’t open.”

  “You rigged his chute not to open?” Sabrina demanded of Ryan, appalled by such an action.

  Caleb didn’t seem to notice the question, continuing, “After all that gloating the kid did, talking about being the best, not needing any training, he froze like an icicle. Didn’t pull his backup.”

  “Oh, my God,” Sabrina murmured.

  “My God, Ryan!” Jennifer exclaimed. “He could have been killed.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I pulled his chute for him.”

  Bobby ran his hand over Jennifer’s back. “Whoa, tigress. Ryan had his reasons, and they were good ones.”

  “And it was priceless watching that kid get pulled down a notch,” Caleb said. “But, man, he hugged you like he loved you, Ryan.”

  Sabrina frowned, talking to Ryan. “What if you hadn’t got to him on time?”

  “He would have died,” Jennifer answered for him, and glared at Caleb and Bobby. “And both of you should be ashamed for backing this.”

  “That kid learned a lesson with the best parachute he could get,” Bobby chimed in. “The manmade kind—an Ace. He won’t have an Ace in enemy territory.”

  “Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “Ryan probably saved that kid’s life twenty times over. He was arrogant, and with out reason. Dangerous to himself and everyone around him.” Caleb and Bobby raised their beers to Ryan, and Caleb said, “To saving lives by busting balls.”