“Do you mind if I ask what the injury was?”
Sean’s eyes went narrow. “Sara ask you to talk to me about this?”
“No, sir,” Lucas lied blandly. “Call it professional interest.”
“Right, you’re a bone doctor, aren’t you? Well, the technical term was something like compound fracture of the tibia and a shattered patella.”
“That’s an impressive way to screw up your leg,” Lucas said.
“You try being thrown from a helicopter and see how well you do,” Sean said.
“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. That’s a nasty injury. I’m guessing there’s quite a bit of hardware in there.”
“Enough to annoy the metal detectors at airports, that’s for sure,” Sean said.
“And you still get pain?”
Sean grimaced and made a dismissive gesture. “There’s a fridge in that cabinet beneath the TV. That’s where the beer is.”
Lucas rose and found two beers and a bottle opener. He passed one to Sean and sat back down. Sean took a swallow or two then sighed gratefully.
“You were going to tell me about the pain?” Lucas prompted.
“Was I?” He shook his head. “I’m guessing if I don’t tell you, Sara’s just going to keep sending you at me until I give in? She’s like a dog with a bone, that one. Doesn’t give up easily. Yes, my damned leg hurts.” He drank more beer.
Lucas sipped his more slowly. “Patellas can be difficult when it’s a bad fracture. Is it your thigh that hurts?”
“Thigh, knee, lower leg. My damned left hip.”
“That’s from the limping,” Lucas said.
“So my physical therapist tells me.” Sean swallowed more beer.
Lucas eyed the level in the bottle. It was going down fast. Beer might be better than narcotics but it would do almost as much damage in the end. Sara didn’t need a dad who was drinking too much. Not too mention Sean was likely to fall and just screw his knee up even more badly if he spent his days half drunk.
“Do you mind if I take a look?” Lucas said.
Sean eyed him. “Son, you might have charmed my daughter out of her pants but I’m not there yet.”
Lucas almost choked on his beer.
Sean laughed. “So you are sleeping with Sara.”
“I think that’s between Sara and me, sir,” Lucas said.
The smile vanished from the older man’s face. “She’s my daughter. I don’t want to see her hurt.” Sean swigged the beer again.
“I don’t intend to hurt her,” Lucas said.
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
“So I hear. That doesn’t change mine.”
“Why are you even messing around with someone like Sara?”
“What does that mean?”
“I know who you are,” Sean said. “Sara’s not much on baseball and, honestly, neither am I, but with this goddamned leg there’s not much I can do every day and I had plenty of time to read all about you and your pals when you bought the Saints.”
“Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”
“I don’t. But I doubt they got the part about your family wrong, did they? You come from money, don’t you? The big old kind of money?”
“My family has money, yes.” Lucas said. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me and Sara.”
Sean’s eyes—a steelier version of his daughter’s—narrowed. “You said Sara didn’t tell you about Jamie? About the way he died?”
“No, sir.” Lucas braced himself. He got the feeling he wasn’t going to like this part of the conversation.
“Jamie was a pilot, too,” Sean said. “Damned good one. Though Sara could probably outfly him now. She learned some tricks in the army. Sneaky stuff.”
“She’s an excellent pilot,” Lucas said. “That’s why I hired her.”
“Yes. Well. So was my son. And he used to work for me as well. Doing the tourist runs over Manhattan. Flying rich types around.”
“Isn’t that what charter pilots do?”
“Yes it is. But what they shouldn’t do is fall in love with their clients. Or in lust. Whichever.” Sean waved a hand in the air. “Jamie got involved with a girl whose dad used to charter us. He hid it from me, knew I didn’t agree with mixing business with pleasure. I don’t know whether Sara knew.”
“How old was he?”
“Twenty-two.”
“That’s pretty young,” Lucas said. “Everyone does dumb things when they’re young.”
“I know. I did my share of idiotic crap when I was his age. But I survived it. Jamie didn’t.”
The bleakness in his voice made Lucas wince. He had his ups and downs with his family, but he definitely didn’t want to think about losing any of them. “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
“He was out with this girl—Callie, her name was—and they were drinking. She ran her fool Porsche convertible off the road. And the car flipped. She was thrown free. Jamie wasn’t. His neck broke.”
“He died.”
“Not straightaway. There was someone driving right behind them. They called the paramedics and both of them made it to hospital. She broke some bones, too, but nothing serious. Jamie—” Sean broke off, lips pressed together. Then he drained the rest of his beer. “Jamie never woke up. Traumatic brain injury, they call it. Along with the neck. We turned off the life support after a few weeks.”
“And the girl?”
“She went home after a week or so. As far as I know, she was fine.”
“Did she get charged with anything?”
“Reckless driving. But her family lawyered up and she got off with community service. Seeing as she was so young and all. No priors, apparently.”
“That’s horrible,” Lucas said. “An injustice.”
“Well, that’s how it goes, isn’t it? If you can afford the lawyers and can put some pressure on the DA, you’re more likely to get off.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” Lucas felt his hand tighten around the beer bottle. This was the sort of crap he’d wanted to get away from by stepping away from his family. The we’re-better-than-them mentality that he’d come across too many times. “Did you get compensation?”
“We talked to an attorney but it was going to cost a fortune to sue them. I couldn’t afford it. The medical bills were bad enough. The health insurance I could afford for Charles Air was pretty crappy. They didn’t cover much. Not enough for three weeks on life support in intensive care, anyway. It took me a few years to pay the bills. Which is why we don’t have many helos.”
And why his daughter didn’t trust people with money. People like him.
Fuck.
“So you can see why I’m not thrilled to find Sara sneaking around with a guy like you,” Sean said.
“What makes you think we’re sneaking around?” Lucas asked.
Sean snorted. “I see you in the papers all the time, son. You and your two friends. Your buddy Winters has the Jameson gal with him more often than not lately. But you and the other one. I haven’t seen either of you with any women. So I figure you’re sneaking around. Otherwise you’d be showing Sara off.”
“I’d be more than happy to show her off,” Lucas said. He might not be able to do much about being wealthy, but he wasn’t going to take the rap for not going public with their relationship. “But Sara is the one who doesn’t want to. Not yet. So I’m respecting her wishes.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir, it is. Like you said, once she makes up her mind about something, it’s difficult to change it. But I’m trying. I’m sure it doesn’t mean a lot to you, but I care about Sara. I’m not looking to hurt her.”
“If you weren’t looking to hurt her, you’d walk away.”
“Why? Because she and I have different backgrounds? I’m more interested in the things we share.”
“And what are those? Other than sex?” Sean asked. “She’s not exactly a baseball fan, my daughter. No quicker way to get her to leave the room than to turn on a game. So, what? Are you a helicopter fan?”
“I spend a lot of time in the air,” Lucas said. “But that’s not what I like about Sara. I like who she is. She makes me laugh. She’s smart and talented and beautiful. Why wouldn’t I like her?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t like her, just that you should think about how this is going to end. You’re her boss. You’re wealthy. That’s not a story that often ends well for the woman involved.”
“Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it that I’m not going to hurt her,” Lucas said. “I don’t mean to be rude but you don’t know me, Mr. Charles, so don’t lump me in with whatever it is you think guys like me do.”
Sean’s mouth curled upward briefly. “Well, you stand up for yourself, so that’s a start. And hell knows, Sara isn’t going to listen to me about this, so it’s going to be her mess to deal with.”
“Like I said, I’m trying to make sure there is no mess. I want her to be happy.” Lucas swallowed the last of his beer, which was growing distinctly warm. “And speaking of making her happy, I’d be grateful if you’d let me take a look at your leg. Not here. But I’ll get my office to call and set up an appointment.”
“You think it can be fixed properly?”
“I can’t promise that,” Lucas said. “Not without seeing what’s actually going on with it. Maybe not even then. But I can promise you that I’ll do whatever I can to get it as good as it can be for you.”
“No bullshit. I like that.” Sean saluted him with his empty bottle. “All right, son, you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll let you poke and prod at me so Sara gets off your case. Now how about you get me another beer and we watch some damned baseball?”
“Don’t you think you’ve left them alone long enough?” Liza said as Sara picked up the last plate from the dish rack.
Sara almost dropped the plate. “What do you mean?”
“Honey, I might be old but I’m not stupid. You sent Lucas in there to check out your dad’s leg, didn’t you?”
“You’re not old,” Sara said.
“Flattery won’t get you out of the fact you’re scheming. You know your dad doesn’t like to be managed.”
Sara flapped the dish towel at her mom. “I don’t care. His leg is hurting him and it’s stressing you out. And he’s drinking too much. Lucas is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in New York. Probably in the country.”
“He’s pretty handsome, too,” Liza said.
“I’d noticed,” Sara said drily. “But I don’t think that makes him a better doctor.”
“Can’t hurt with his female patients.”
“Not going to help with Dad, though,” Sara said.
Liza sighed as she stripped off her rubber gloves. “No, your father is stubborn. And not inclined to like the men you sleep with.”
Sara froze. “Who says we’re sleeping together?”
“Honey, if you’re not sleeping with that man, then I’m sending you to the doctor to get your hormones checked out.” Liza winked and fanned herself. “Those eyes with that hair. You sure he’s not Irish?”
“Pretty sure that Angelo is an Italian name, Mom,” Sara said, trying to ignore the fact that her mom thought Lucas was hot.
“Well, you know what they say about Italian men.”
Sara put her hands over her ears. “La la la, not listening.”
“Your generation didn’t invent sex,” Liza said. “And I might be old and married but I’m definitely not blind.”
“Mom, can we change the subject, please? Yes, Lucas is hot. Yes, I’m sleeping with him, but no, I’d rather not discuss that with you. And I definitely don’t want to talk about it with Dad. Lucas is a good guy, not just some walking, talking piece of man flesh.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Lucas’s voice said from behind her.
Floor, swallow her up. Nope, didn’t seem like that was going to happen. She turned around, well aware that her cheeks were flaming.
Liza started laughing. “You should see your face, honey. You’ve got it bad.”
“Mom!”
Lucas leaned against the door frame, a broad smile on his face. “No, you should listen to your mom. She’s very wise.”
Liza beamed at him. “I can see why she likes you,” she said.
Lucas straightened. “I like her, too, Mrs. Charles.”
“Is there something I can get for you?” Liza said.
“I thought maybe some chips or something? We’re watching the game.”
Something to soak up some of the beer, Sara thought. At least on her dad’s part. Lucas had eaten two helpings of lasagna and salad and garlic bread, so he couldn’t possibly be hungry. But her dad hadn’t eaten much at all.
“I’ll get it, Mom,” she said. “Why don’t you go pick out a movie or something? If these two are doing male baseball bonding, I’m guessing we’ll be here awhile.”
“I’ll take Dougal out first,” Liza said. “He’s practically drowned himself in drool all through dinner. I’ll give him a couple of biscuits.”
“You spoil him,” Sara said.
“That because he’s the best dog,” Liza said. She bent over and patted her leg. Dougal pricked his ears from his spot in the dog bed in the kitchen. “C’mon, handsome,” Liza said. “Who wants a biscuit?”
She walked out of the kitchen with Dougal on her heels, eyes firmly fixed on the dog biscuits in her hand.
“I like your mom,” Lucas said.
“I do, too,” Sara said. She opened the pantry trying to see what suitably manly carbs might be lurking within. Corn chips, check. Salsa, check. Some of the disgusting beef jerky things her dad liked. And a bag of pretzels. That should do the trick.
“I’m not so sure your dad likes me, though,” Lucas said.
“If he’s watching sports with you then he’s decided you’re not too terrible.” Sara found bowls and started opening packets. “Did you talk to him?”
“Yes. He’s going to make an appointment to come see me.”
“He won’t—”
Lucas held up a hand. “By which I mean I’m going to leave all my details with your mom and get her to make the appointment. And if she doesn’t do it first thing Monday then one of the assistants at my office will call her. I know guys make terrible patients. I’ve been doing this awhile.”
She suddenly felt a couple of inches taller, like something had been weighing her down and had suddenly tumbled free. Lucas was going to see her dad. He’d figure out what was wrong and then he’d fix it and everything would be back on track. She beamed at him over the salsa. “You are so getting lucky later on, Angelo.”
* * *
Sunday morning brought with it a few pale rays of sunshine, the first faint hint that spring might be coming at some point. Sara stared out the window, contemplating how to fill up her day. Lucas had headed back to Manhattan to check in on patients and repack his bags. They were flying back to Orlando in the early evening, which meant Sara had to go and collect the helo and get organized, too—but there was plenty of time for that. She’d done her laundry and cleaned the tiny apartment yesterday when she’d been waiting for Lucas.