really understood how much it really had taken for her to get herself here. How much she’d fretted. How much she’d self-analyzed and denied. Not jumping? For the best? Sabrina wasn’t so sure about that. No one should get this worked up for nothing. Yet, she had. Sighing, she squeezed her eyes shut. She should feel relieved she wasn’t jumping. Instead, surprisingly, she felt let down.
Ryan cleared his throat, regaining their attention.
“Hang out until sunset, and I’ll take you up then,” Ryan offered, his brown eyes sympathetic rather than challenging. His words low, for her ears only. “If you’re going to skydive once in your lifetime, that’s the time to do it. It’s truly one of the most spectacular sights ever.”
Sabrina blinked, fighting the most unnerving urge to reach out and touch the light stubble on his ruggedly handsome face. The man loved skydiving. He lived life while she merely existed. She wished she could be brave and exciting like him, but the truth was, he was beyond her. And so was jumping out of a plane.
Swallowing regret that had everything to do with Ryan, and nothing to do with missing a chance to nosedive from a plane, she replied, “I’d better pass because, you know, sitting here, waiting for my turn to jump from a plane, potentially to die, pretty much ruins the ‘spectacular’ part of the equation.”
His lips twitched. “You aren’t going to die. I promise.”
She jumped on that—the only jump she intended to take now, no matter how tempting the man. “You can’t promise that and you know it.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she flung up a staying hand, her nostrils flaring with the spicy scent of him that darn near rattled her resolve. She forcefully added, “I like my promises absolute, not probably absolute. People die while skydiving.”
“People die crossing the street,” he countered.
“Rarely,” she said.
“More frequently than they do jumping out of a plane.”
“Because more people walk across streets, not because skydiving is safer. I checked the statistics. It’s June, and already this year alone, there have been twenty-five people who’ve died in skydiving accidents. I spent all morning wondering if I would be number twenty-six. I can’t sit here all afternoon and do the same.” She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”
“Then let me worry,” he said. “That’s my job.”
She snorted, and ran a hand through her hair. “In other words, neither of us will worry.”
“And exactly what about that plan is bad?” he asked, the look on his face infuriatingly amused. And sexy. The man was sexy. Too sexy.
“Worry makes people careful,” she stated. All her life she’d worried and headed off problems doing it.
“Worry makes people nervous, and then they make mistakes,” he rebutted. “Training and experience make people aware, and awareness equals safety.”
“Let it go, Ryan,” Jennifer interjected. “It would be insane to make her wait. Montey has boatloads of money, and from what Bobby said, he doesn’t mind spending it. He could be here all night. If he lives that long. I swear, Ryan…you’d better keep that man safe. If he dies here, we’ll never get another client.”
“Right. I’ll make sure he dies someplace else. Check.”
“Dang it, Ryan,” Jennifer said. “You know what I mean. Montey is big news.”
The haze of self-absorbed fear clearing, Sabrina asked, “Marco Montey is coming here? As in the Marco Montey? The race-car driver?”
“Yeah,” Jennifer confirmed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Apparently he graduated from the University of Texas and has family here. And if the tabloids have him nailed, he can’t stand living an entire day without tempting fate.” She slanted her gaze toward Ryan. “Thus, his new love affair with him.”
“Can I meet Montey?” Sabrina asked both Jennifer and Ryan. “Or rather interview him?” Pushing past the ingrained need for privacy despite Ryan’s presence, she turned an appeal on Jennifer, “I follow racing so I can hold my own with him. I won’t embarrass you. And Montey is notorious for joking around with the press and telling them absolutely nothing about his life, or his future career plans. And right now, he’s in a dispute with his sponsor, Can Cola, for drinking Red Rock Cola on camera. If I can get the scoop on that and more, this will be my opportunity to prove to Frank I can deliver compelling stories that have nothing to do with my father’s politics. I know you know what that means to me. Please.” She glanced between the two of them. “I really need this interview.”
“I don’t know,” Jennifer said tentatively. “Ryan? Can she interview Montey? Can you get him to talk—as in really talk to her? Not brush her off.”
Sabrina fixed on Ryan sitting next to her, unaware of just how close they were until her knees brushed his. Heat darted up her thighs and thrummed through her core. “I…ah…” She stepped back a bit. “Sorry.”
Eyes twinkling with mischief, he teased, “Running away when you want something from me isn’t the best strategy, you know.”
“Ryan!” Jennifer chided. “Will you behave?”
“Behaving is overrated,” he said, his attention never leaving Sabrina, his eyes hot with challenge. “I’ll make you a deal. If I can score you an interview, you go out with me.”
Her stomach fluttered. An interview with Montey and a date with this wild cowboy. Montey was a building block of the new life she wanted. But at Ryan’s bidding? An image of herself, strapped to a bed, Ryan naked and teasing her, had her all but visibly shaking herself to clear her head. Where the heck had that come from, and why did it arouse her so intensely?
Desperately, Sabrina focused her mind on the goal of a career-solidifying interview. “Does this date include jumping out of a plane?”
“Oh, good grief, Sabrina, you can’t be considering this,” Jennifer said, setting the paperwork on the desk. “I’ll let you two work this out. And I’ll be up front when you do.”
Neither of them acknowledged Jennifer, either before or after her departure. “Only if you want it to,” Ryan replied to Sabrina’s question, as if Jennifer had never spoken. Then he leaned toward her. “And for the record, I prefer you associate our first date with pleasure, not fear.” He eased back, the scent of him, spicy and male, lingering in her senses, as he said, “Do we have a deal?”
Making a deal with this man wasn’t safe. It wasn’t something she would normally do.
“A date in exchange for an interview,” she agreed, her resolve forming. “Yes. All right. We have a deal.”
She wanted this interview. She wanted Ryan. And for once in her life, she wasn’t denying herself just so she could be safe. She was embracing the thrill, the danger…and, yes, the deal.
Satisfaction slid across Ryan’s face. “I’ve got your paperwork and contact information,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.” He pushed to his feet.
“What?” she asked, suddenly uncertain about what had just happened. “How? When do I get my interview?”
Ryan
