married, yes,” Jennifer said and wiggled an eyebrow. “And thankfully Bobby knows all the right times to be an animal.” They shared a laugh, and then she continued, “What I was going to say is this. In the Dog Whisperer, when a dog is aggressive, Cesar shows people how to make that animal become submissive. He has the animal lie on its side in the middle of other dominants—to learn to accept a submissive position.”
“Okay,” Sabrina said. “Just for the record, I know you’re a vet so I’m not going to be offended by you comparing me to a dog. But I still don’t get the point.”
“The point is that he conditions the dogs to see that less aggressive behavior gets them what they want, which in their case is praise,” she said. “I think you need to condition yourself to let go of control, so you can see that the world won’t shatter because you do.” Her eyes lit up. “And I know just how you can do it.”
“If it involves a chicken, I can tell you right now, I want no part of it.”
“Skydiving,” Jennifer said. “It’s perfect.”
Sabrina gaped. “Skydiving.” That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. “Are you crazy? You want me to jump out of a plane? Surely you can think of something less dramatic?”
“Bobby and a few of his Army pals own Texas Hotzone, a skydiving operation thirty minutes outside of Austin. You can make your first jump with Caleb. He’s one of Bobby’s best friends. A nice, soft-spoken guy who’s gentle. You can give him control without feeling like you really gave it away, and he’ll keep you safe.”
“No,” Sabrina replied, setting her spoon down in rejection. “The idea behind me moving here was to live life. In other words—I don’t have a death wish.”
Jennifer shrugged. “I jump and I love it. But then, I’m not a control freak. I guess that allows me to enjoy things you can’t.”
“Oh, that was a low blow,” Sabrina chided, narrowing her eyes on her friend. “Really low.”
“I know.” She leaned in close. “But it worked and you know it.” Her watch beeped. “Shoot. I need to go.” She reached for her purse. “I won’t be back to the paper until next week.” She set a business card on the table. “That’s the address of Texas Hotzone. Meet me there on Saturday before two. That gives you three days to chicken out, but don’t do it. You moved across the country to change your life, so change it. Don’t relocate the old one.” She pushed to her feet. “I dare you.”
Sabrina sat watching Jennifer depart without really seeing her. She’d moved across country, left her job, changed her name, and all for what? To remain captive to her father’s world?
She grimaced. Who was she kidding? She didn’t want to report on strawberry festivals. It was simply that strawberry festivals were safe. Frank had been right. Reporting facts was different from writing her political POV as she had in New York. And investigative reporting had been her roots, the way she’d started in the media years before.
She wanted to go to this press conference. She wanted to find out the facts. She wanted to write the story she wanted to write. To choose the friends she wanted to choose. To choose a man because he was exciting, not safe, either.
Heck, she wanted to be able to have a one-night stand if she so desired and not worry about being gossip fodder. But she’d never dared such a thing before. She gave that a moment’s consideration, picturing a set of rock-hard abs, perfect pecs and wild, erotic passion.
She sighed and discarded the idea, inhaling a spoonful of her half-eaten dessert and deciding to savor every bite. The brownie was the closest thing to orgasm she was going to get anytime soon. Maybe she’d better go with skydiving. At least jumping out of a plane came without the risk of scandal. The risk of scandal… Would she ever be free?
IT WAS SATURDAY AFTERNOON, a hot time at the Hotzone for Ryan “Cowboy” Walker, who sauntered behind the front desk to complete the day’s log. He was outta here early today, taking off for the first time in a month, since their grand opening. He was heading out for an appointment with a real-estate agent to look at houses, though he hadn’t shared that little detail with anyone. He’d given himself a deadline for deciding if he was committed to the civilian life, and once he committed, he would be fully committed. Though secretly the idea of owning a home scared the crap out of him, far more than any of the many snake-infested jungles he’d seen in his time. The only home he’d ever been willing to claim was the Army, with his AK-14 as his front door.
Ryan believed you did things all the way or not at all. People who walked a line usually ended up dead or miserable. He didn’t like either of those choices. Which was why he’d left the Army a month before and invested with several of his Crazy Aces in the Hotzone. At one time, he would have sworn he’d have been a life-timer. But soldiers followed orders without question, and he no longer could. Not when he’d come to realize there was an outside agency involved in their mission, of questionable ethics. Nothing had been what it seemed. And so here he was, about to house-hunt, forced into domestication like some sort of wild cat, but still committed.
He slammed the logbook shut, satisfied he was ready for Monday’s jump class. He was going to show the new Special Forces recruits what had put the Crazy in the Aces—namely, him. They’d never jump out of a plane with anything but cool confidence when he was done scaring the hell out of them. Better they wet their training pants on his clock than on the enemies’.
Ryan was headed around the counter and toward the door when his gaze caught on the parking lot and the woman approaching the building; she gave hot a whole new meaning. He stopped dead in his tracks and a low whistle escaped his lips.
With an all-consuming interest that made house-hunting a distant memory, he tracked the curvy brunette’s path.
His gaze simmered on the confident stride of the woman headed his way, those long legs eating the distance between them. Oh, yeah. He was going to like this woman. Anticipation charged his nerve-endings with a fire he’d not known in far too long. His around-the-clock work schedule had left no time for dating or other pleasures. A dry spell that would soon be ending, he decided. His groin tightened at the sight of the sexy she-devil’s snug black jeans and fitted black T-shirt, both of which hugged her with deliciously arousing perfection.
She reached for the door; her silky dark hair fluttered around petite shoulders and high breasts. He wanted that hair on his face, on his stomach. He wanted this woman.
She stepped inside the small office equipped with a couple of steel desks and not much more, shoving her sunglasses on top of her head as the door swung shut behind her. Light green eyes the color of new grass blinked him into focus and connected with his, the attraction between them instant, hot. No. Damn hot. Electricity charged the air, stroking his cock to full attention, the room so silent it was eerie.
“Hi,” she said in a rich-wine kind of voice that rippled along his nerve-endings and sent a rush of fire straight through his veins.
His gaze slid to the rise and fall of her ample breasts, and then lifted in time to see the alluring scrape of teeth along her full red bottom lip. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to taste all of her. Ryan tipped his cowboy hat, undisguised interest in the heated look he fixed in her direction.
Another silent, crackling moment followed before she announced, “I’m here to see Caleb.”
Ryan barely contained a curse. Caleb. She was here to see Caleb. His partner. His fellow Ace. His friend. Ryan ground his teeth at the off-limits
