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“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.


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