Angel in Armani by Melanie Scott Page A

from you.”
    “Then turn around and come back,” Ellen said. “You need to deal with this.” She hung up and Sara sat down on the cold tiled floor, legs suddenly weak with panic.
    Her helo.
    What had happened to it? She couldn’t run Charles Air without a helo. Her dad had put their other helicopter out of commission in his accident, and his medical bills were doing a good job of eating up the payout from the insurance company, so they hadn’t been able to replace his helo.
    She’d told herself that she would get ahead of things by the time he was back in the air and they needed two helicopters again, but so far she was only going backward.
    Shattered legs, it turned out, cost a lot of money to fix. Even more when you got infections in the pins and other complications. Her dad, apparently, didn’t believe in doing things the easy way. Even now, when he had been out of hospital for months, the physical therapy bills were killer. Especially when he seemed to have stopped making progress.
    If the A-Star was out of action, too, they were toast. Because she doubted the insurance company would be keen to pay out again to them. The deductible alone would be massive. And the way their cash flow was currently dwindling, renting a replacement wasn’t going to be an option, either. She needed a healthy customer base to cover rent on a helo—assuming she could find somebody willing to rent her one—and her operating costs. Right now, the only way to describe her customer base was “in need of intensive care.” Possibly about to flatline.
    And she had just slept with one of her few customers. She put her head down and pressed her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t swear out loud.
    Lucas.
    Out there in the bed, sleeping the sleep of the well-satisfied male. Or of a doctor who’d learned to sleep hard when he got a chance. She’d learned that skill herself in the army.
    Oh God. Lucas.
    Lucas who had a car .
    She stared down at the phone. Just after five. She couldn’t hear rain anymore—so she assumed the weather had settled down—but who knew if the road was clear?
    So there was no guarantee that he would be able to make it back to Manhattan on the road. He must already be cutting it fine.
    It was a rationalization and she knew it. It wasn’t even a very good rationalization. But she had to get back to Ellen and see what had happened to the A-Star. The sooner she could start the processes of getting whatever needed fixing fixed and lodging any insurance claim, the sooner she could get back in the air. And every minute counted because without it, Charles Air was going to be history.
    Which might just kill her dad.
    So that meant she needed the car. Lucas was rich. He would find another way back to the city. That’s what rich people did. Used their money to get what they wanted. She’d dealt with enough rich customers to know that.
    She pushed to her feet, feeling sick to her stomach.
    Damn it.
    Last night, apart from the storm and the near death by tree, had been one of the best nights of her life and now she was going to ruin it.
    They’d agreed it would be one night only and she had steeled herself to honor that even though the thought made her body protest loudly. Not to mention that she’d enjoyed Lucas himself. The funny playful guy he’d been in bed was very different from the serious doctor in the suits.
    Which one was the real him?
    It didn’t matter, she realized. She wasn’t likely to see either version of him ever again. Not after she did what she was about to do. Not unless he decided to have her arrested or something.
    She crept back into the main room, tiptoed around picking up her clothes and donning them as fast and silently as she could. When Lucas turned over, muttering something under his breath, she nearly had a heart attack. But then he stilled again, his breathing slow and steady.
    The whole room smelled like him, which made her feel even worse.
    Well, she could do one thing to make it