Angel in Armani (27 page)

Well, then. Today he was going to play hooky and sit here with Sara and try to be a fan for as long as he could. Alex and Maggie could hold the schmoozing fort.

He looked around, spotted a guy with a tray of hot dogs, and waved a bill at him. “If you put it like that…” He took the hot dog—loaded with mustard the way he liked it—and sat back down.

“Don’t spill mustard on that suit,” Sara warned.

“My dry cleaner laughs in the face of mustard stains,” Lucas said and Sara laughed. “What?”

“Do you actually know who your dry cleaner is?” she said, voice amused. “Or do you have a housekeeper or someone who deals with all that stuff?”

“I know my dry cleaner.” Well, he knew one dry cleaner, the one he sometimes dropped stuff off with at the hospital. He had no idea where his housekeeper took most of his suits. But he wasn’t going to tell Sara that.

“That’s a relief.” She fished out more popcorn and grinned before she ate it, looking as though it was the best thing she’d ever eaten. That was baseball for you—it made even the junk food taste good.

He bit into his hot dog. It was gloriously terrible. Salty and beefy and tangy with mustard. He could almost feel his cholesterol spiking. But who gave a damn? He took another bite and chewed happily.

“Did you come to ask me something?” Sara said when he’d swallowed. “Do you need the helo?”

He frowned. It stung that she was surprised by him seeking her out. “Do I need a reason to come talk to you? Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Sara nudged his leg with her knee, and the quick flash of heat eased the sting. And replaced it with a surge of why-the-hell-was-he-stuck-in-Florida-where-he-couldn’t-touch her?

“No reason required, Dr. Gorgeous. But I thought you’d be up with the bigwigs, doing your owner thing.” She smiled, expression teasing.

“They’ll live without me for a bit. But actually, I came to tell you that my office called. Your mom rang them earlier and your dad’s going to have some X-rays and scans done Wednesday. Then I can see him Thursday before we come back here for Friday and Saturday night.”

This time her smile was one of pure delight and relief. “Really?”

“Yup. It’s all sorted. And it’s on the house. I’ve got a friend who’s looking at patella fractures and recovery times, so he can use your dad’s data for his study and the hospital will cover it.”

Her smile ramped up another few degrees until the happiness in her face just about blinded him. He really wanted to kiss her. Really. But other than Mal, Alex, and Maggie, no one else in the Saints knew about them. So he couldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair. He contented himself with grinning back at her while making a mental note to get her alone as soon as humanly possible.

“You’re a good guy, Dr. Gorgeous,” she said. “Want to take me to a ball?”

*   *   *

All dressed up with no date in sight. Aka where the hell was Lucas? He was meant to meet her at his apartment at seven and whisk her away to the ball. Once she’d said yes to him taking her, she’d decided she wasn’t going to hide away and sneak in the back or turn up with Mal. In for a penny, in for a pound. Or something.

She was with Lucas. So let the world think what they would for however long that lasted.

Of course, making a grand statement like that would be easier if he would show the hell up.

It was nearly ten past seven and she was starting to feel like an idiot. She had a coat flung over her dress, but she was still getting some curious looks from the people going in and out of the building.

She checked her phone again. No message.

Damn it.

The revolving door in the lobby started to move and she looked up. Only to see Malachi walking toward her, looking apologetic.

“Mal,” she said a little warily as he reached her. Mal bent and kissed her cheek. Since Lucas and she had come clean, she seemed to been moved into “approved friend” status with Alex and Mal and, other than in the office, they both had taken to kissing her hello and good-bye.

Which wasn’t so hard to take.

Mal straightened, easing his tuxedo jacket back into place with a shrug. It was unbuttoned and the bow tie around his neck undone. He didn’t wear the suit as naturally as Lucas did, but that didn’t make him any less spectacular in it.

“Hey, Sara. Lucas sent me to pick you up. He’s stuck in surgery but he’ll be done in an hour or so. Doctor’s hours, you know.”

She nodded and pasted on a smile against the sharp snap of disappointment. Lucas was a surgeon. A great one. In demand. That meant a lot of emergency calls from athletes around the country. A heads-up might have been nice, but if he was in surgery and something had gone wrong then maybe there just hadn’t been time.

She lifted her chin, determined to not let Lucas being late ruin her night. “Well, you’re kind of cute in that tuxedo. So I guess you’ll do.”

“Always the bridesmaid,” Mal said. He held out an arm.

Sara tucked her hand through it. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe. Pretty sure there would be potential dates lining up for you if you wanted them.”

“Not much time for socializing right now. And Alex and Lucas keep beating me to the gorgeous women at the Saints.” Mal navigated them through the revolving door and gestured toward the limo parked out front. “Our chariot.”

It took a few minutes to wrangle dress and coat into the limo without ruining either of them or her hair, but she managed with Mal’s help. He offered Bollinger but she took Perrier. She hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, butterflies about the ball killing her appetite. Alcohol and low blood sugar didn’t mix in her experience. Besides, she was flying later, so she’d rationed herself to one drink for the night. She was going to wait until she was with Lucas.

The fizzy water was cool, which was good because the limo was warm, even though she’d shrugged out of her coat once inside.

She watched Central Park, all dark green mystery and pools of light sliding by outside the windows. Limo travel would be easy to get used to. All the space was pretty sweet, and it smelled of clean leather and the deep smoky spice of whatever aftershave Mal had used rather than of sweaty cabdriver and fake air freshener.

All that was missing was Lucas himself. She tried not to think about what he might be doing to her if they were alone in a limo together but heat swept over her anyway. He’d kept teasing her about doing all sorts of things to her in a dark spot at the ball.

Part of her hoped he’d been joking but most of her, right at this moment, fervently hoped he hadn’t.

She swallowed more Perrier, trying to cool herself down. Nothing was going to happen if Lucas didn’t get out of his surgery.

Of course he would. She drank again.

“Nervous about tonight?” Mal asked.

“A little.” Make that a lot. Lucas’s parents were on the guest list, a little bombshell he’d dropped the night before. To be fair, he’d seemed surprised by the information himself, claiming that he hadn’t expected them to accept the invitation. But she’d dropped him in the deep end with her own folks, so she’d just have to woman up and cope with his.

Mal topped up her glass. “It’ll be fine. Just like any other party. Only bigger-scale.”

“You mean kegs and grilled burgers and loud rock ’n’ roll?”

Mal laughed. “I see you went to the same sort of parties in the army as I did. This is the same principle, just fancier booze and food. And then we ask them for money.”

“I see.” He wasn’t really easing her nerves any. Army parties and pilot parties—which tended along the same lines—she could handle. This was a whole other level.

But if she wanted Lucas, this was apparently the life that came with it. Maybe she’d like it. She hadn’t thought she’d like baseball but she was enjoying it now. She still didn’t understand half of what was going on in the games and even less of what all the statistics meant, but she liked the crowd and the silly music and the seventh-inning stretches and the sense of fun. Plus watching guys built like Ollie Shields in tight pants and short-sleeved shirts wasn’t too hard.

She didn’t think tonight was going to have much silliness, though. But probably just as much stuff she didn’t understand. Though Lucas would be there with her, and that was what mattered. Lucas who thought he could fix her dad’s leg. Lucas who was
operating
on her dad next week. Lucas who had offered to get his lawyer onto the insurance company if they hadn’t assessed the A-Star by the end of the month.

Lucas who made her brain melt every time he touched her.

For him she could do this.

Though, as they got closer to the hotel, the thought of braving photographers without Lucas holding her hand was making her palms sweat.

She’d seen pictures of paparazzi crowding around people, pushing and shoving and cameras flashing. She was pretty good with crowds and noises most of the time, but that seemed almost a guaranteed way to trigger herself into a panic attack. Not how she wanted to start the evening.

Which meant she needed to change the environment. Control things if she could. At least that’s what her therapist would tell her.

“Mal, is there a back way into the hotel?” she asked. “I mean, if I’m not arriving with Lucas, do I need to go in the front?”

Mal tipped his head. “Something about photographers bother you?”

She swallowed. Mal had been in the army. He’d understand. “When I first got out, I wasn’t good with people getting too close. And loud noises. And flashing things.”

He nodded. “Combat stress. I know that one.”

Relief made her smile at him. “I’m mostly better but I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with packs of photographers.”

Mal nodded. “I don’t like them, either. I’ll call Gardner. He’ll get us in another way.”

“Don’t you need your picture taken?”

“Alex can play poster boy for the night. The papers can live without my ugly mug.”

She was doing the women of New York a disservice. There would be plenty of them perfectly happy to drool over a picture of Mal in the paper. But they’d just have to drool over Alex instead. “Thank you,” she said.

*   *   *

“Are you sure about this?” Mal said as the limo slid into the alley leading to the back of the hotel ten minutes later. “We can still go around the block and go in the front.”

Sara shook her head. Having seen the throng of photographers and cameras outside the front of the hotel, complete with a red carpet, of all things, she knew she wasn’t ready to walk that particular gauntlet. “Yes,” she said sounding more certain than she felt. “Sneaking in the back suits me just fine.”

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” he said. “All the attention.”

“So are you used to it yet?” she asked.

“Hell, no. If I could send all the paparazzi to a very deserted island somewhere in the Bering Sea, I would. Of course, that would still leave the actual legitimate press to deal with. And we need them.” He didn’t sound like he was happy with that situation.

That didn’t ease Sara’s stomach any. Malachi Coulter was taller than either Alex or Lucas and built on broader, more solid lines. He had shoulders that could probably cause a lunar eclipse. If he didn’t like the media circus, what hope did she have of getting used to it?

“Well, I’m not going to have to deal with it tonight, at least. Thank you,” she said.

Mal smiled, brown eyes warming. Which made him even nicer to look at. She could see why Maggie called them the terrible trio. Mal was easy enough to talk to and he’d been nothing but a perfect gentlemen since he’d climbed into the limo, but she had no trouble envisioning him kicking butt and taking no prisoners.

She wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done in the army—it seemed rude to ask when he hadn’t offered the intel—but she was guessing it had been something specialized and risky. And apparently he hadn’t lost whatever don’t-mess-with-me vibe it had instilled in him. Though, who knew, maybe he’d had that before he’d joined up.

“Gardener will be waiting at the door,” Mal said. “He’ll let us in and then we’ll get you upstairs and deliver you to Lucas.”

“Lucas isn’t here yet and I’m not a package,” she pointed out.

“No, but you’re very prettily wrapped.” Mal grinned. “Good dress choice.”

She felt her face go hot. Maggie had talked her into the dress, and it had been in her price range—the shopping gods apparently smiling on her for once. Maggie’s friend Shelly Finch, a player’s fiancée, had shopping mojo that probably involved sacrificing goats to dark gods or something. Shelly had whizzed them to about ten little up-stairs-and-down-alley showrooms stuffed full of gorgeous clothes at the sort of price that Sara could afford before Sara could blink. She’d had no idea such places existed.

Affordable or not, she still wasn’t sure she could pull the dress off. But she’d adored it too much to resist, particularly with Maggie and Shelly egging her on. It had a soft blue bodice, made sparkly with a thousand or more tiny glittering silver beads curling around her body in waves. No straps held it in place, just boning and what Maggie had called
magic tape
. She just hoped that it wasn’t going to do her any harm in sensitive areas when she had to take it off. Lucas might have been hoping for some action in a dark closet somewhere, but he was going to have to be very inventive to leave her looking respectable afterward. Not that she doubted his ingenuity in that department.

No, indeed. The man had skills. And very few inhibitions.

She wrenched her mind off that path and focused back on her dress. A far safer subject. The bodice, impenetrable or not, wasn’t the best part. No, the best bit was the skirt, which was made from miles and miles of soft tulle, falling around her like a long tutu in layers of blue and gray and white in a hundred soft shades. It stopped just below her ankles, which let her show off the silver heels that she’d had to buy as well. Because they were perfect for the dress.

The dress swished and swayed and made her feel like some sort of sea fairy. She hadn’t been able to resist it.

She’d curled her hair in loose waves and donned the pearl earrings her grandmother had left her and then decided to let the dress stand alone. She couldn’t compete with the sorts of jewels that anyone else here tonight would be likely wearing, but she did have a killer dress. One that would, hopefully, make Lucas crazy.