A Rare Chance

by Carla Neggers

  “You don’t have a crystal ball,” Cam said, getting to his feet as he sensed Tony Scagliotti’s fatigue. “I should be going. If you think of anything else, give me a call. Gabriella has my number, and it’s in the book.”

  But before he could make his retreat, he heard footsteps on the stairs up to the roof.

  “Well, isn’t this a quaint picture,” Gabriella Starr said as she emerged onto the deck, her dark eyes suspicious, her tone sarcastic. “Never know what goes on when I’m supposed to be at work. Mind telling me what you boys have been up to?”

  Scag glanced at Cam, and he knew he was on his own on this one. Well, he didn’t mind. He fastened his gaze on Gabriella, who was, he thought, more intrigued by his presence than her pride would permit her to let on.

  No, he didn’t mind at all.

  Chapter

  Seven

  Gabriella gave Cam Yeager a long look. He had on faded charcoal twills and a polo shirt in a deeper gray, giving his eyes the color of a stormy sea. His shaggy hair was still damp from the misting rain. If he’d shaved since she’d last seen him, she couldn’t tell, since he once again had his two-day growth of beard. She herself felt rumpled and tired. She wore a khaki silk gabardine safari jacket and skirt, low-heeled shoes, no jewelry. Her brown hair was pulled back with a wooden barrette.

  “Scag and I were just talking about Lizzie Fairfax,” Cam said, his tone carefully neutral.

  “You deliberately came up here while I wasn’t around?”

  She tried not to sound so aggrieved, but it had been that kind of day. She felt as if everything—and everyone—around her was moving too fast and she was being hurled into a future she didn’t want and couldn’t control.

  Cam, of course, noticed. His eyes were half closed, assessing her. She reminded herself that he was an experienced detective, accustomed to relying on his intuition, to seeing things people didn’t want him to see. “Gabriella, what’s going on?”

  “There’s a dinner tonight at Joshua’s house on the North Shore. I heard—someone at work told me he and Lizzie are going to announce their engagement.”

  “Moving kind of fast, aren’t they?”

  Gabriella sighed, her shoulders sagging with fatigue and worry. Lizzie Fairfax had never had a clear eye where romance was concerned. But who did? “Apparently it’s one of those love-at-first-sight things or close to it. I guess it can happen.” She leveled her eyes on Cam. “Did Scag tell you Lizzie has a history of letting herself get sucked into relationships?”

  “More or less. I take it she hasn’t told you of her engagement plans?”

  Gabriella shook her head. “I’ve hardly seen her since she and Joshua started seeing each other.”

  “What’s it been, all of two weeks? Nice. You have a beer or something down in the fridge?” he asked, starting for the stairs.

  “I have some bottled water and natural sodas.”

  He grinned over his shoulder at her. “Why’d I ask?”

  She followed him down to the kitchen, where he proceeded to investigate the contents of her refrigerator. He settled on a natural root beer soda. She offered him a glass, but he shook his head and twisted off the cap. She noticed the muscles in his arm work, the dark hairs on his wrist. Who was she to judge Lizzie Fairfax when she couldn’t get Cam Yeager off her mind?

  “You jealous of Lizzie?” he asked abruptly.

  She almost choked. “What?”

  “Jealous,” he said. “Are you jealous because Joshua Reading’s interested in your best friend?”

  “No!”

  Cam smiled. “Ah. But the idea of you two—you and Josh—isn’t as far-fetched as you maybe’d like me to believe.”

  She spun away from the counter, tearing open the refrigerator just to have something to do. She got out a seven-ounce bottle of mineral water. The cap wouldn’t budge. She fought a mad urge to bang it against the sink, smash it to smithereens. She knew she was tense, and she knew why: Lizzie, Joshua, Scag, Pete Darrow, and Cam Yeager. One of her closest friends was deeply involved with her boss, a man who’d just emerged from a life-threatening situation and was perhaps leaping before he looked. Then there was Scag. Beyond knowing that she couldn’t let him starve, she had no idea what to do about her father. And Pete Darrow was still out there, lurking, his motives and his plans unclear.

  And Cam Yeager. Gabriella knew she was far more attracted to him than was probably sensible or timely. With so many other distractions, she had to keep a clear head.

  Putting her strength into it, she uncapped the mineral water. Definitely, she thought, she shouldn’t neglect her weightlifting.

  “Joshua has shown a romantic interest in me in the past,” she said carefully, “but I didn’t respond in kind.”

  Leaning casually against the counter, Cam drank some of his root beer. “How far in the past?”

  “Months. I nixed the idea before it could get out of hand.”

  “How’d he take it?”

  She shrugged. “Fine.”

  “Think he holds a grudge?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed. It was an awkward situation, but I never felt my job would be threatened if I put him off—and obviously it wasn’t. And I’ve never felt he resents me for not having responded to his advances.”

  “Titus know?”

  “I don’t know. When I first came to TJR Associates, I thought Titus didn’t notice that kind of undercurrent. He’s always so focused on getting the job done. But lately…” She sipped her water, trying to clarify just what she was trying to say. “I’m not sure Titus misses as much as he might have people think he does.”

  “What about Lizzie? She know?”

  Gabriella sighed. “I don’t know what Lizzie knows. I haven’t seen her. She’s into Joshua. Period.” Cam nodded as if he understood, and maybe, Gabriella thought, he did. She set her water on the counter. “Her affair’s made me—” She broke off, avoiding Cam’s penetrating gaze. “It’s made me more cautious. I haven’t wanted to interfere in her relationship with Joshua. So I haven’t pushed hard to get in touch with her. She knows my number, where to find me. If she wants to talk, she can. I don’t want her pulling back from Joshua because she thinks I don’t approve.”

  “But you don’t approve,” Cam said.

  “I’m worried about her. That’s different. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  She raked one hand through her hair and started out of the kitchen. “You’ll have to excuse me. I came home a bit early so I could catch my breath before I have to head up north.”

  “Take your time,” Cam said, following her into the hall. “I’ll just wait here in the living room.”

  She spun around. He was much closer than she’d expected. It was a wonder she hadn’t crashed against his chest. “Why?”

  His expression was unreadable. “Thought we could ride up north together.”

  “But I—”

  “Gabriella, I need to get to Reading Point. Trust me. Please. I won’t get you into trouble. I’ll be careful.”

  His tone wasn’t pleading or even insistent, just factual and concrete. This was what he wanted. This was what she could expect from him. No room for doubt. He was standing close enough to her that she would step on his toes if she moved forward even half a step. She could see the scar along his jaw, under his scraggly, sexy growth of beard.

  Her mouth had gone dry. “Like you were careful last time when you got yourself trapped on the rocks?”

  He gave her an easy, unapologetic grin. “A little more careful than that.”

  “What do you think you’ll find on Reading Point?”

  “I’m being as frank with you as I can be, Gabriella. I’m fishing. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Fine,” she said, and whirled around.

  He grabbed her by the arm, not ungently, and turned her back toward him. “It must be hell,” he said softly, roughly, “not trusting anyone but yourself.”

  “I trust Scag.”

  “He never m
arried your mother. You never knew when he was coming or going. He thinks you’re killing your orchids.”

  “Lizzie,” she said stubbornly. “I trust Lizzie.”

  “She’s in over her head in a relationship with your boss.”

  “My mother,” she said, her voice suddenly hoarse. “I trusted her.”

  “She’s not here, Gabriella. Who’s here—in your life, now—that you trust?”

  “I really do trust Scag and Lizzie. I understand them, and they understand me. I just don’t rely on them. And I have other friends.”

  Cam smiled, bringing one hand up to her face and brushing his fingertips across her jaw. His touch was lighter than she’d expected, but electric. It sent tiny shock waves of heat through her. She could see him watching as she licked her lips. “Do you want to trust me, Gabriella?” he asked.

  “Are you—is this just so I’ll agree to have you as a stowaway in my car?”

  His eyes darkened to the color of the sea at dusk. “No.”

  He drew his thumb along her lower lip, sending more electric shocks through her, even stronger ones. She knew he’d spoken the truth. Whatever his mission regarding Pete Darrow, Cam wasn’t standing in her hallway now, wasn’t pressing her about trust, wasn’t touching her just because he wanted to hide under a blanket in the back seat of her car.

  Her fingers were suddenly intertwined with his, and she drew closer to him, hesitant at first, wondering if she ought to beat a path down the hall and lock herself in her bedroom until she came to her senses. “If a month ago anyone had told me I’d be here like this with a cop,” she said, trailing off as their mouths came together in a long, leisurely kiss, as if they had all the time in the world.

  Cam slipped his free arm around her waist and tugged her against him, rubbing his palm against her lower back as their kiss deepened. An urgency she hadn’t expected, could never have predicted, assaulted her senses, even her willpower. She could have made love with him right there on the hall floor. The image—the near reality of it—flooded her mind.

  “Pity your dear old dad’s up on the roof,” Cam murmured, his thinking apparently mirroring her own. “I don’t suppose he can be trusted to stay there?”

  The reminder of Scag up on the roof jerked Gabriella back to her senses. She pulled back, her body shuddering with disappointment, and quickly straightened her silk blouse. A close call. Very definitely. Who was she to criticize Lizzie Fairfax for going too fast? Every contact with Cam Yeager seemed to bring her closer to jumping headlong into a relationship with him—an ex-cop, an about-to-be prosecutor, an independent-minded man who asked for trust when he couldn’t give it in return. Never mind, she thought, the wry smile, the tenderness, the earthy sensuality, the searing need she felt to trust him.

  Why couldn’t she fall for someone who’d never followed anyone, who’d never demand more than she could give, who’d never make her want to give more than she could?

  “I’ll get dressed for dinner,” she said.

  His eyes—his entire body—gave away how close he too had come to falling onto the hall floor with her. “Shall I wait in the living room?”

  She sighed, knowing what he was asking. “If we’re caught—”

  “I told you: I’ll say I coerced you.”

  “Still—”

  “Gabby, it’s your call.”

  “Maybe it’d be easier if you did coerce me,” she muttered. “You’re appealing to the side of me that doesn’t like balking at a risk, you know.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  She shot him a look. “You think you know a lot about me, don’t you?”

  His sea-blue eyes sparkled with his peculiar brand of wry humor and irreverence. “Not nearly enough, sweetheart. Not nearly.”

  “Wait here,” she said, whirling back around before she forgot Scag, forgot dinner, everything. “I won’t be long.”

  Cam nixed Gabriella’s suggestion that he curl up under a fleece throw on the floor of the back seat all the way from Boston to the North Shore and sat up front instead. When they got closer to Reading Point, he’d climb in back. He’d never been one to be overcautious.

  Of course, neither had Gabriella Starr. The part of her that had learned to balk at impulsiveness and unnecessary risk had reared its troublesome head.

  She bit down on her lower lip. “What if someone going to the dinner tonight recognizes my car and asks who was riding up front with me?”

  “Say you picked up a hitchhiker.”

  “I suppose,” she said, more to herself than to him, “having you here is better than not knowing where you are. It’s been unsettling the past few days not knowing what you were up to. I kept expecting you to pop out of an alley or something.”

  He grinned. “I was on your mind, huh?”

  She gave him a quick glance, then turned her attention back to the road. Her car was a moderate-priced, sporty sedan, nothing flashy. “I meant only to emphasize how little you’ve told me versus how much I’ve told you.”

  “How much I’ve found out, you mean. How much would you have told me if I hadn’t done a little investigating on my own? Come on, Gabriella. You’re used to playing it alone and so am I.”

  She didn’t answer, refused to give him even one of her quick, penetrating looks. Amused because he knew damned well he’d hit a nerve, Cam settled back in his seat as they cruised along the interstate, noting that she stayed just a nick above the speed limit, not enough to get her pulled over. She’d put on a midcalf skirt in a gauzy print of blues and violets, a long cotton sweater that picked up one of the shades of violet, and big silver earrings. The look was flowing, relaxed, a hint of the woman who used to whisk off to parts unknown on the trail of an undiscovered orchid.

  Once off the interstate, they wound along the snaking roads of the North Shore, Gabriella not saying a word. Cam could imagine a thousand places her mind had drifted, could imagine a thousand things that could preoccupy her, from a multimillion-dollar real estate deal to a tiny, rare orchid on the side of some mountain in the subtropics.

  “You watching your driving?” he asked.

  “Of course. Why?”

  “You were starting to look dreamy.”

  “I am not,” she said, “the type.”

  That was where she was wrong. She was the type. She dreamed. She dreamed all the time. Probably as a kid she’d started dreaming about leaving Cape Cod and chasing after orchids all over the world, being like her father. Taking risks, having adventures. Exploring a side of herself that both intrigued and unsettled her. But the reality of her life with Scag had finally caught up with the fantasy, and she’d gotten scared of her dreams. Instead of working with them, listening to them, incorporating them into a new life, she’d blamed them for her pain and left them behind. She’d gone for the pragmatic, the stable, the reliable.

  Only she’d built a rooftop greenhouse and filled it with orchids. She’d let her father back into her life when he needed her. She’d rescued a stranger trapped on the rocks, and she’d agreed to sneak him onto her boss’s property.

  Her dreams had come back to haunt her. One way or another, Cam thought, they always did.

  She pulled alongside the road about a mile before Reading Point and made him crawl in back. Her small trunk wasn’t a sensible option. To squeeze down between the seats, he had to twist his shoulder, tuck in his knees, and generally make himself smaller than he was. Gabriella unceremoniously threw her fleece over him, rearranging it a couple of times before she was satisfied.

  “I don’t want it to look as if I’ve got a corpse back here,” she said.

  The floor, at least, was spotless, Cam noticed, and smelled faintly of vinyl cleaner, a small comfort given that his face was pushed up against it. She pulled back onto the main road, zipping along curves, pounding through potholes, and not exactly gliding to a smooth halt when, finally, she came to the turnoff onto Reading Point.

  It seemed to Cam she took the turn on two wheels.

  “H
ey,” he said, “are you looking to have a corpse back here?”

  “I just want to maintain my usual driving pattern. I’d rather not arouse any suspicions, would you? Here, we’re almost to the security gate. It’s unmanned, but keep quiet just in case your ex-partner’s lurking about.”

  Cam remained still and silent as she went through the security gate. She left her window open. He could hear the wind and the ocean, smell the salt in the air.

  “There are no cars in front or in back of us,” Gabriella said, pragmatic. This little jaunt wasn’t at all beyond her realm of experience. “You can get ready to jump out. I’ll slow down, but I’d rather not pull over or stop.”

  He thrashed his way free of the fleece throw and crawled onto the back seat, ready to do whatever it was he would do.

  Gabriella gripped the wheel with both hands. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Plan? No, I just figure I’ll make things up as I go along.”

  “I used to,” she said, slowing, looking around at him with those big brown eyes. “That’s how Scag and I nearly got eaten by a crocodile.”

  He winked, grinning. “Trust me, Gabby.”

  But her expression remained serious. Whatever spirit of adventure and tolerance for risk had propelled her to go eyeball to eyeball with an Australian crocodile wasn’t in evidence tonight. “I shouldn’t be more than a couple hours. Where will I find you?”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, pushing open the back door, “I’ll find you.”

  Pete Darrow held her door for her as Gabriella slid from behind the wheel after pulling into the gravel parking area below Joshua Reading’s sprawling home. “Yeager with you?”

  “Of course not. Why would you even think so?”

  His hard, dark eyes fixed on her. He was dressed in a deep blue mock turtle and black pants, neatly pressed and sleek fitting. He didn’t have Cam’s thick muscles and odd angles. “I’m paid to get rid of trespassers,” he said.