Free High Octane by Lisa Renée Jones Page A

foreclosures that will go fast.”
    â€œYou’re buying a house?” she said, hands on her slender hips, where he’d like to put his.
    He laughed. “That’s right, I’m never going to convince Bobby and Caleb I’m here to stay if I don’t put down some roots.” He motioned with his chin. “What about you? This is a great place. Did you buy it?”
    â€œRenting with the option to buy,” she said, shoving her hands in her back pockets and looking a bit uncomfortable. “I need to be sure I can carve out a readership for my new pen name minus the political connections.” She leaned a hip on the counter. “If I end up penning the same political stories I did back home, then ultimately that will expose my identity, and this has all been for naught.”
    â€œAnd you think Marco can help you carve out that readership?”
    â€œI have an idea I think could really be great,” she said. “Different. Something that will make me stand out.”
    â€œTell me about this idea you have for Marco’s interview on the drive to the country club,” he suggested.
    Ryan had a feeling no matter how much she stood out, she wouldn’t be staying. Her father was headed for a run to the White House, and she’d go with him. This visit to Texas was a last chance to find herself before the microscope of her father’s career honed in on her life. And Ryan was all about helping her do a little selfdiscovery and then letting her go. He was, after all, a master of short-term relationships, his life having allowed for nothing more. He’d honed the skill of saying goodbye with one foster family after another, and thenone mission, one woman, one undercover identity at a time. This time would be no different…no matter how many nights Sabrina kept him awake dreaming about her.
    Â 
    R YAN MADE HER reach beyond her comfort zone, and that both scared and excited her. Walking into a ritzy country club in jeans and a Harley T-shirt, with a Harley-worthy man on her arm, was definitely outside of her comfort zone. It was something she never would have done back in New York. But entering the elegant restaurant inside the club, where elaborate flower arrangements hung from ceiling rafters and orchestra music drifted through the air, she was surprised to get not so much as a blink from the young hostess dressed in a cream-colored suit. And to her further surprise, a scattering of jeans-clad customers dotted the room.
    â€œWelcome to Texas,” Ryan whispered by her side, his hand touching her elbow as he guided her through the clusters of elegant white-and-cream decorated tables, in pursuit of the hostess. The touch shimmered up her arm, and spread warmth across her chest.
    â€œI think I could get used to this,” she said, the intimacy of his understanding her private insecurities and what she was thinking not escaping her.
    The hostess waved them forward, her gaze slipping appreciatively over Ryan as she departed; if he noticed he didn’t react. Ryan and Sabrina were greeted by an attractive thirty something blonde who quickly stood,displaying a slim figure dressed in a silk blouse and black jeans.
    â€œRyan, hi,” she said. “Glad you came along.” And though the words rang genuine, she quickly turned to Sabrina. “Sabrina.” She extended her hand. “So very nice to meet you. I’m Calista Montey. And a fan. A huge fan.”
    â€œThank you,” Sabrina said, shaking Calista’s hand across the table. “I’m always honored to hear someone has enjoyed my work.” Which was true. Her column had been her pride and joy, and it had been hard to walk away from it. The fights with her father were another story—a thought that coiled tension in her stomach.
    â€œYou clearly stand up for what you believe in,” Calista said. “I admire that. I wish more people were like you.” She motioned to the