Angel in Armani by Melanie Scott Page B

right. Her checkbook was in her flight bag. So she carefully wrote out a refund for his charter—though the thought of what that would do to their already shaky bank balance made her cringe—and the amount she guessed he’d paid for the car rental.
    And, because it seemed like the honorable thing to do, even when she was abandoning him like this, she wrote, “I’m sorry. I had to go,” on a page from her notebook and left that and the check weighted down by the heavy watch on his bedside table.
    She stared down at him, sleeping there, the lines of his face—as much as she could see in the darkened room—still one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
    Life really was a bitch.
    Couldn’t even let her have this one thing without turning it into a disaster, too.
    But that was the reality, and she was good at dealing with reality.
    So she shoved away the guilt and regret, scooped the car keys up from beside his watch, and let herself out of the room.

 
    Chapter Five
    Ellen met Sara at the door to the terminal. She looked pale and wet and exhausted, her hair scraped back in a rough bun and her mascara smudged.
    “Sara, honey,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
    Sara braced herself. All through the ninety-minute drive—she’d had to take a couple of detours around downed trees and power poles to get back—she’d been holding out hope that it wasn’t going to be too bad. That whatever had happened to the A-Star could be fixed. A few days’ downtime and she’d be back in the air. No problem.
    But looking at Ellen’s face, she wasn’t so sure. “Show me.”
    She followed Ellen through the terminal and out to the airfield. The wind cut through her jacket like it wasn’t there but wasn’t howling as badly as it had last night. The ground squelched under her feet, muddy and slippery, rain still falling steadily. She concentrated on staying on her feet until they reached the place where her helo should have been, sitting patiently and waiting for her, the bright blue-and-silver paintwork shining. She’d tied it down properly. It should have been fine.
    But it wasn’t.
    Instead, it was on its side. She could see from here that at least one rotor blade had snapped off. About ten feet past it, a small plane was flipped on its back, looking far more mangled than the helo, but still. She looked back at the rotor and had to swallow hard as her throat went hot and tight.
    No helo. She had no helo.
    No helo. No work. No work. No money. “Oh God .”
    “Sara—” Ellen put her hand on her arm.
    “What happened?”
    “Near as we can tell, it was the wind. The Piper came untied and flipped and got blown into the helo. That wind was nearly hurricane-force last night.”
    Sara stared at the A-Star, blinking back the sting in her eyes as the rain hit her face. Did her insurance even cover freak wind gusts … what did they call them, acts of God? That was it. Though what she thought about whatever deity had decided to mess with her was firmly unprintable.
    As to whether she was covered … she had no idea. Hopefully whoever owned the Piper was.
    Regardless of insurance, she did know she was looking at a helicopter that was kind of screwed.
    Much like she was.
    *   *   *
    I’m sorry. I had to go.
    Lucas stared down at the note, still not believing what he was reading though he’d read it at least ten times now. The handwriting was neat and perfectly legible. It was just that it made no goddamned sense.
    She’d left. And, he’d deduced from the lack of car keys on his bedside table, she’d taken the car.
    When he’d first noticed the lack of keys, he’d stomped over to the window and confirmed it by flicking the blinds up. The Mercedes was gone. And so was Sara Charles.
    She of the innocent face and the seaside eyes and the mouth that had made him think he’d gone to heaven. She’d spent the night with him—hell, that was too tame a term for what they’d done, because sex with Sara had been very