High Octane (10 page)

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.

P
ULLING 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.

 

H
E 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 his 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.”

Sabrina stared at Ryan. He enticed her, turned her on, intrigued her. But she admired him, too, envied him. For living his life. For being daring and adventurous. But there was more to him than daring. Bobby and Caleb respected Ryan. When was the last time she'd sat with a group of people who didn't seem to want more from each other than company? How many of her friends from New York had even called since she left? Called without an agenda?

She trusted him. Everyone at this table trusted each other.
Trust me,
Ryan had said to her, as well. She hadn't realized, until this moment, how much she needed some one to trust. How much Ryan had felt like he could be that person until he'd left her that night. Until she'd opened herself up to him, and he'd turned her away.

Ryan paused with the bottle to his lips, noting her attention. He arched a brow, a silent question in the action. She felt vulnerable under his scrutiny, and cut her gaze. Damn it, he confused her. If they'd had sex, she
could blow this off as a fling. An adventure. But they hadn't, and she couldn't.

“What is it about a group of Army guys that requires analogies revolving around male body parts?” Jennifer asked, jerking Sabrina back into the conversation, and adding, “I'm sorry, Sabrina. I'm sure you're used to a more refined group than this. Of course, there is Frank. He has a mouth on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Sabrina asked, quite amused by the assumption that she was sheltered. “I'm from New York. Frank is nothing. Us New Yorkers are talkers. And politicians?
Biggest trash talkers ever.
Give them some booze and stand back. It's gonna get ugly.”

“Really?” Jennifer mused. “I always thought they kept a straight face in public, and let it all hang out behind closed doors.”

The music changed suddenly, transitioning between songs, and Jennifer grabbed Sabrina's arm in excitement. “Oh, wow.” Then she turned to Bobby, interrupting whatever he was saying to Caleb. “It's our song. Our song.” She shuffled off her seat and tugged Bobby to the dance floor.

A cute blonde came up to Caleb and whispered in his ear. Caleb turned to the woman, chatting with her, angling his body to tune Ryan and Sabrina out of the conversation.

Several crackling seconds of silence passed between Sabrina and Ryan until Ryan eyed her almost-empty glass and then slid to her side of the table. His arm brushed hers, and just that easily, an erotic chill fluttered
across her skin. Hot and then cold. Cold and then hot. He turned to face her, elbows on the table.

“One more drink and I might have to drive you home,” he commented.

“One more drink and I might need to call a cab,” she rebutted.

“Why are you so angry with me?” he asked.

“Why?” she asked and her loosened tongue sped on. “I needed you the other night, and you left me alone.” The words fell between them, and she willed them back into her mouth in all their vulnerable clarity.

Ryan's expression softened, and he reached for her. “Sabrina—”

“Caleb!” Sabrina shouted, scooting to the edge of her chair and jerking Caleb's attention from the blonde. “Let's dance!”

 

R
YAN STOOD AT THAT TABLE
, watching as Sabrina not only darted away, but snagged Caleb from the blonde he'd been flirting with. She dragged him to the dance floor when she clearly didn't even know how to dance. Ryan ground his teeth, his eyes practically crossing as he watched Caleb's hand settle on Sabrina's waist. Watched her laugh as she tripped on his feet. Caleb, his brother Ace, was holding Sabrina.

Long strides fueled by the agitation vibrating from within, Ryan was on the move. He crossed the bar and nudged onto the dance floor with the insistence of a man on a mission. He tapped Caleb on the shoulder
with his last bit of reserve and said, “This would be my dance.”

“Hey, man…” Caleb started to object, but the laughter on his lips faded, along with his objection, the instant he looked at Ryan. “Right. Your dance.”

“I asked Caleb to dance,” Sabrina argued.

Caleb was smart enough to ignore the objection, quickly removing his hands from Sabrina's waist, as if he felt he might lose one of them if he did not. He was right.

Before Caleb had fully backed away, Ryan had hold of Sabrina, pulling her close, his hand around her waist. His legs twined with hers. A slow song fluttered in the air, and Ryan turned her into the crowd, pacing her slowly, controlling her with his hips.

“If you were trying to get a reaction,” he said, his hand sliding over her lower back, molding her to him, “it worked.” Their lips were close, breath mingling together. “Here I am. Now what are you going to do with me?”

“I wanted to dance,” she said, her hand flattening on his chest, applying pressure.

“With Caleb,” he challenged.

She hesitated, her lashes fluttering low, shielding her expression. “
We've
already danced,” she said. “It didn't go so well.”

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said, her words steamrolling him, and he pressed his cheek to hers. “I left because I wasn't going to be the jerk who'd taken advantage of you when you woke up the next morning.”

She glared up at him. Then he leaned forward to
make sure he could hear her, as she said, “You left the minute I didn't live up to your good-girl, senator's-daughter fantasy.”

Instantly, Ryan stilled, his hand sliding behind her neck, pulling her mouth to his. “I left the minute you became the senator's daughter, angry at her father and looking to use me as revenge.” Emotions rolled inside him, turbulent, dark. “You know what. You're right. The last dance didn't go well, and neither is this one.”

Ryan let her go and started walking, telling himself to go, not to look back. But he stopped, Sabrina's words echoing in his head,
You left me when I needed you.
Damn it to hell. Ryan just stood there, knowing full well he was headed toward heartache.

He turned back to her, finding her staring after him, fraught with the same kind of twisting, turning, confusing emotions he was feeling. Ryan closed the distance and grabbed her, pulling her close.

Sabrina opened her mouth to speak, but the words faded into the steel guitar of a new song. The music was fast now, louder, people two-stepping and twirling around them. That left only one way to communicate.

“Screw discretion,” Ryan murmured and kissed her soundly on the lips, slanting his mouth over hers. She clung to him, no hesitation in her response. He damn near made love to her with his mouth right there on the dance floor.

The shift in the music was all that drew him up short. Ryan tore his mouth from hers, searched her face and found no regret, no anger or embarrassment. There was
only desire and promise. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door.

They were about to hit the exit when suddenly, Sabrina resisted. “Wait. Stop. No. I can't.”

E
VEN IN HER SENSUAL HAZE,
Sabrina managed one piece of common sense. “My purse is at the table. I have to have my purse.”

Ryan's tense features softened marginally. “Can't you get it from Jennifer tomorrow?”

Oh, how she wished, but that wasn't an option. She shook her head. “My keys are inside. And my cell phone. I'll be right back.”

He took a step forward, to follow. “No. I'll go.”

His face flickered with suspicion, and on a whim, she pushed to her toes and kissed him. “I don't want to risk Jennifer giving us a hard time. I'll hurry. I promise.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, and she darted away, wobbly enough that she could have used Ryan's help. To her relief the table was empty, and Sabrina hurried to her chair. Her purse was gone. She searched high and low to no avail. Reality began to creep over the situation. How stupid she'd been.

Ryan appeared, looking concerned.

“It's gone. I'm never letting loose again.” She walked over to him and dropped her head to his chest before looking up at him. “I can't believe this is happening. They got my credit cards, my keys. God. Ryan, my ID has my address. And I am so fuzzy-headed, I can't think what to do first. I'm never like this. Never.”

He kissed her forehead. It was the most tender, sweet thing a guy had ever done. “You can stay with me tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow I'll change your locks for you. But right now we need to report this to the manager.”

Caleb walked up and made quick work of helping, flagging a manager. A few minutes later, Sabrina and Ryan stood talking to the manager and an off-duty police officer in a far corner of the bar, where the music was muffled. The end result—her purse was still gone, and she needed to call the bank and credit card companies.

By the time they'd finished up their report, Sabrina had to claim Ryan's arm for stability.

“Let's get you out of here,” Ryan said, his arm wrapping around her waist.

“Please,” she agreed. “Before I embarrass myself by getting sick would be the preference.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a moan. “So much for romance, eh?”

“There's plenty of time for romance later,” he assured her.

They said goodnight to their friends, Jennifer being
especially supportive and asking her to call her if she needed any help.

Thirty minutes later, Sabrina was on Ryan's cell phone talking to one of her credit-card companies when they pulled out of a fast food drive-through. Ryan had insisted she had to try to eat. But the scent of sausage and eggs engulfed her with a new wave of nausea.

“I can't eat anything right now,” she moaned, hanging up to dial another number.

“Tomorrow you'll feel ten times worse, if you don't,” he insisted.

“It's tonight I'm worried about,” she said quickly.

“Worry is my job, remember?”

“Since your version of worry is not to worry,” she said. “I'll carry the torch until I pass out. Then it's all yours.”

“How soon is that going to be?”

She pressed her hand to her stomach. “Not soon enough, considering I should finish these calls.”

His hand stroked her hair. “Rest,” he said. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

Rest. Yes. She needed to rest. With her lashes heavy, stomach trembling and head pounding, sleep promised painless oblivion. Sabrina let the cell phone drop from her hand and curled her fingers under her cheek. Ryan's hand continued to lightly caress her head, soothing, comforting. And as she succumbed to the darkness—comfortable enough to simply allow Ryan to take care of
her—she was pretty sure that meant something. Something important. Something she needed to remember tomorrow.

 

T
HE MINUTE RYAN LIFTED
Sabrina out of the truck into his arms, she curled into him, sound asleep. Trusting. Protectiveness rose inside him, a feeling he was beginning to feel was synonymous with Sabrina. She played tough, pretended she could take care of herself. But he understood now what she'd meant when she'd said he left when she needed him. Sabrina had no one she could just be with, no one she didn't have to act tough around. And Ryan had made a decision tonight. He wanted to be that person, despite the risk of her using him to find herself and then taking off. He was all about risk and reward, and he wasn't going to turn away from that formula with Sabrina.

He'd already lodged open the hotel door, so a kick gave him entry, and he carried her inside. Carefully balancing Sabrina, he shut them safely inside the simple, no-frills room. There was a bed, a small kitchen and a bathroom, and not much more.

Settling Sabrina on the bed, he expected her to wake up any minute. She didn't move, completely knocked out. He tugged her high-heeled boots off one at a time and was about to tackle her jeans when she abruptly moaned and sat straight up. Wildly, she looked around trying to get her bearings before swallowing hard and half moaning, “Bathroom. I need a bathroom.”

Ryan pointed to the open door, and she scooted off
the bed with newfound energy born of obvious desperation. Concerned, he followed, finding her hunched over the toilet, her hair draped over her face. Ryan sat down on the edge of the tub and lifted her hair, whispering comforting words as she fought the nausea.

After one particularly bad episode, she whispered, “I'm sorry.” Slowly, she leaned back on her heels. “I'm so sorry for all of this, Ryan. This really wasn't how I would have liked this night to end up.”

“Happens to the best of us,” he assured her.

She leaned back on her heels again. “I must look horrible. Not exactly the way to make an impression.”

“You had me at the mud mask,” he teased.

She groaned at that. “Don't remind me.” She tried to stand and wobbled.

Ryan quickly helped her. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I have to shower,” she said. “I feel disgusting.”

“Maybe you should wait until morning,” he said, wishing he had a real tub.

“I'll be okay,” she said. “Really.”

Skeptically, he agreed and turned the water on for her. She seemed steady enough to undress on her own. “I'll get you one of my shirts.” He grabbed a towel off the rack. “The hotel's towels suck, but they get the job done.” He closed the toilet seat and set one on the edge so she could reach it easily. “And don't even think about getting shy on me. I'm leaving the door open. I want to be able to hear you if you call me.”

He didn't give her time to argue, exited to allow her to undress, returning once he was sure she was in the
shower to leave her one of his Army T-shirts. He had no idea why, but he really wanted to see her in that shirt.

Pausing in the doorway, Ryan went completely, utterly still; the sight of Sabrina's naked silhouette against the shower curtain was so damn erotic, he had to swallow a groan. His hand went to the doorjamb. He was the one who suddenly was in need of steadying, his body raging with awareness, his cock expanding against his zipper.
Down, boy,
he silently ordered. Now was not the time.

He forced himself to set the shirt down, to walk out of the room. By the time the shower turned off, Ryan had grabbed some soda from the machine outside and changed into army sweats and a T-shirt to match Sabrina's. He intended to sleep in the sweats to ensure he kept his raging body in check until she was well.

He was in the kitchen filling a glass with ice when Sabrina appeared in the doorway, looking a bit tentative in his green shirt with
Army
stamped across it, her hair damp around her shoulders. Her nipples puckered against the thin material. Oh, yeah. He would never look at that shirt the same way again.

He held up the glass. “Soda?”

“Oh, yes, please,” she said, closing the small space between them and drinking.

“Not too fast,” he said, reaching for the glass. “You'll make yourself sick again.”

“You're right,” she said, eyeing the room. “Bed. Yes. That's what I need.” She headed in that direction, no hesitation about climbing under the covers. “I hate the
idea of wearing those clothes again tomorrow,” she said, her eyes fluttering, lashes lowering.

Ryan sucked in a breath at the sight of her in his bed, adrenaline rushing over him. Images of all the ways he'd have his wicked way with her played in his head. He forced himself to slowly exhale and then inhale again. Willing his body to calm.

He forced his gaze from Sabrina, looked around the room, the barren, dismal room that wasn't much to see at all. A room meant to be temporary, but then temporary was comfortable, temporary was what he knew. Temporary housing, short-term missions and short-term women.

The only thing he'd ever believed was permanent in his life had been the Army. They'd been his family. The discovery he'd made had been a hard blow. Even now, he couldn't think about the betrayal that had led to his departure without his blood boiling.

Ryan's gaze flickered to where Sabrina lay peace fully sleeping in his bed, the sight of her calming the rise of turbulence inside him. His woman. The thought swelled inside him and expanded with a rush of possessive intensity that he'd never felt in his life.

The idea of Sabrina in his life, in his home, both enticed him and scared him. He was a fool for thinking like that. This wasn't even his bed or his home. It was a damn hotel. The same old temporary living arrangement called his life. And Sabrina would be the same old temporary relationship, too. He couldn't let himself
forget that, couldn't let himself, or her, be convinced that this was more.

He'd been burned that way in his youth, thinking he was where he was supposed to be, with whom he was supposed to be. The only difference with Sabrina was, instead of him being the one making a short stop, it was her. Because, unlike him, she
had
a home—and that home was in New York. Ryan wasn't going to forget that. Which meant he'd better shake himself back to reality. Enjoy her as he did everything in life. Like it wasn't going to last. Because it never did.