A Rare Chance

by Carla Neggers

  But she already had.

  And just as Gabriella was about to slam the phone down, she heard the distinct click of another extension being hung up.

  “Yeager.”

  She bounded up to the roof and found him at the umbrella table with the cordless extension still in his hand. He had his feet up on the table, his ankles crossed, and while he didn’t look guilty, he most certainly didn’t look innocent. “Paris, huh?”

  Given his impeccable timing, Scag chose that moment to wander out from the greenhouse. He glanced at Cam, then at Gabriella. “Time for me to go home, I see,” he said, and went, Gabriella managing only a quick goodbye.

  She turned her attention back to Cam. “You’re shameless,” she told him.

  “Yeah, well, so are you.” His sea-blue eyes were unrepentant and utterly unyielding as they zeroed in on her. “What package and where is it?”

  “I should have known you’d have the gall to eavesdrop on a private conversation.”

  “You sure should have. The package?”

  She made a dismissive sound, as if his question were of no relevance. “Lizzie left a package for me at the airport, and I promised I would put it in safekeeping and not open it—which is what I’ve done. It’s nothing sinister.”

  Cam’s gaze remained fixed on her. “How do you know? You just said you hadn’t opened it.”

  “I promised her I wouldn’t.”

  “Well, I didn’t. So show it to me and let me open it. I’ll let you know if I find anything sinister.”

  Gabriella flopped down onto a teak chair. “You have no honor,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

  He burst out laughing.

  “I mean it,” she said. “What kind of person would sneak around a promise that way?”

  “It’s a loony promise, Gabriella, and maybe even a dangerous one. You don’t know Lizzie’s in Paris. You don’t know if someone might be looking for that package. You don’t know,” he went on, leaning toward her, everything about him suddenly, relentlessly there, “if having that package puts you in danger.”

  Gabriella decided the only reasonable course of action was to ignore him. “You’re going to make a hell of a prosecutor. When’s dinner get here?”

  He didn’t back off; she hadn’t expected he would. “You don’t know if Pete Darrow followed you to the airport.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Oh, and you know that for a fact. Darrow’s good, Gabriella. I wouldn’t forget that if I were you. Remember, the only reason you’ve spotted him tailing you is because he wanted you to spot him—to spook you, to get you to make a mistake.”

  “If Pete Darrow had followed me,” she said, matching his hard, hyperrational tone, “he would know about the package. He would know I have it. Presumably, like you, he’d want to know what’s in it. You cops always seem to need to know every damned thing, even when it’s plainly none of your business. But since the package is still secure and Pete Darrow hasn’t stolen it or demanded it, I’d say he didn’t follow me. In addition,” she went on as haughtily as possible, “he shows no indication of having a clue that Lizzie’s in Paris or went anywhere by plane. So I’m not worried about Pete Darrow.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” Cam said.

  She settled back in her chair, trying to appear unruffled. “You’re lucky I have a thick skin.”

  “It goes with your thick head,” he said, not insultingly. “Jesus, Gabriella. Did you see Lizzie board her flight for Paris?”

  “No, I never saw her at the airport.”

  Cam scowled. “Then how in hell do you know she’s in Paris? Think, Gabriella. For all you know Darrow could have her stashed somewhere—or Joshua or the goddamned man in the moon. Maybe whoever tried to kidnap Joshua has her.”

  “There’s no indication of that whatsoever.”

  “My point,” he said with exaggerated patience, “is that you aren’t looking at this thing objectively. There are dozens of possibilities you haven’t even considered. You’re taking Lizzie Fairfax’s word for everything.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? She’s my friend.”

  His gaze bored into her. “Exactly.”

  Pete Darrow, she remembered, was his friend. Was that clouding his thinking?

  “Well, Gabby, it’s too late. I listened to your conversation with Lizzie and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it except be straight with me.”

  She swallowed. “There’s nothing else. Lizzie called me yesterday to say she wasn’t marrying Joshua and had left a package at the airport. I agreed to pick it up and hide it without opening it. That’s it. There is nothing more.”

  “Except what happened at work today,” Cam said quietly.

  Scag, she thought. He’d blabbed. “I was going to get around to that.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He didn’t sound sure. She smiled. “Why, Cam Yeager, you don’t trust me. When’s dinner getting here?”

  “It’s not coming. I never made the call. I can now, if you want.”

  “No, never mind. I’ve got some cheese and fruit we can have.” She started to her feet. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  He was up in a heartbeat, taking her by the shoulders and stuffing her gently back into her chair. He said into her hair, “No way, Gabby. I’ll get the cheese and fruit. You’re not sneaking out on me.”

  “Where would I go? This is my apartment.”

  “You’ve got money, credit cards, friends. You’ve managed to sneak out of foreign countries ahead of the police. You’d find a place.”

  She stretched out her legs, sinking back against the chair. “You’ve a suspicious mind, Cameron Yeager.”

  “You got that right.”

  While he was downstairs, Gabriella considered doing a James Bond and going over the roof. But she’d only break her neck or get stuck and have to have Cam pluck her off some windowsill. And if she did get away, what would she do?

  Worse, she didn’t want to sneak off. She wanted to sit up on the roof with Cam Yeager and eat cheese and fruit and tell him about her day.

  “Eek,” she said under her breath, but she stayed right where she was.

  Cam insisted on spending the night. He claimed to be worried that Lizzie’s disappearing act wouldn’t play well with Pete Darrow and he’d know Gabriella hadn’t been straight with him and would come after her. Possibly, even, he had reason to want whatever was in Lizzie’s package, regardless of whether or not he yet realized it existed.

  “Say something incriminating disappeared with Lizzie,” Cam had explained. “It wouldn’t take Darrow long to figure out she could have snatched it and you could have ended up with it—or at least know where it is.”

  Gabriella had found his logic reasonable, if somewhat on the suspicious and paranoid side. But he wouldn’t elaborate on what the “something incriminating” could be. “Proof,” she speculated, “that Darrow’s blackmailing or framing Joshua Reading?”

  “I don’t know. Show me Lizzie’s package and I’ll tell you.”

  They were at an impasse. He wasn’t going to tell her what evidence, if any, he had that Pete Darrow was blackmailing Joshua or framing him and then blackmailing him for something he didn’t do. And she wasn’t going to take him to Lizzie’s package.

  But she agreed to let him spend the night.

  She put him up in the guest room. He didn’t protest. He didn’t kiss her good night or even allude to what had transpired between them in the kitchen the previous evening. Gabriella felt a bizarre mix of disappointment and relief and concluded she could no longer trust her own judgment. She was nuts.

  “There’s a fresh toothbrush in the left-hand drawer under the bathroom sink,” she said, leaving him in the bedroom doorway.

  “Thanks.”

  She glanced around at him. “Are you really worried Pete Darrow could come after me?”

  “Let’s just say I’m more comfortable here with you than I would be at my place without you.”

  I
t wasn’t until one o’clock in the morning that another take on his words occurred to her. She bolted upright in bed. “The snake.”

  He was more comfortable in her apartment than in his apartment because at her apartment he could search while she was asleep. If he’d thought of it last night when he hadn’t even known about Lizzie’s package, of course he’d think of it tonight. Where had her head been?

  But of course she knew. Her head had been preoccupied with why she wasn’t in bed with him.

  She threw back her covers, snatched up her bathrobe, and slipped out of her bedroom. She’d left a night light on in the hall as a courtesy, so he wouldn’t have to stumble around in unfamiliar territory should he get up during the night.

  How thoughtful of her.

  She should have left him to the dark, let him bump against walls, trip, stub his toes.

  His bedroom door was opened just a crack. She gave it a slight push, winced at the creaking noise it made, and peered into the darkened room. There was just enough light from the street and the hall night light for her to make out the thrown-back covers, the expanse of unoccupied white sheet.

  Feeling the rush of adrenaline, she raced back down the hall into the kitchen, found the door to the roof unlocked, and scrambled up the stairs.

  He was in the first greenhouse; there was a fluorescent light on at Scag’s worktable. Gabriella could make out his figure from outside on the deck. She pulled the tie on her white chenille robe tighter before marching in and confronting him.

  “Of all the gall,” she said.

  He paused in his rummaging through a shelf of potting supplies. Nothing in his demeanor suggested surprise, remorse, or even the mildest embarrassment. He did what he did and people could take it or leave it. Including her.

  “You and gall are well acquainted, Gabby.” It wasn’t an accusation so much as an observation. He yawned. He had on nothing but jeans, dark hairs springing up from his thick, muscular chest. “Stars are out in full force tonight, aren’t they? Of course, they’re obscured by the city lights. When I was down in the Caribbean, I enjoyed watching the stars more than catching fish.”

  “Cam, you are not up here looking at the stars. If you were, you’d be outside on the deck, not in here.”

  His eyes, mesmerizing in the shadows, fastened on her. “You must have seen some incredible night skies during your adventures with your father.”

  “Cam—”

  “Do you miss them?”

  “My adventures with Scag? No. That’s why I came to Boston. I wanted to get away from that hand-to-mouth, unpredictable existence. I—”

  “The stars, Gabby. Do you miss the stars?”

  She sighed. He was determined to avoid the issue. “I’m not interested in stars right now.”

  “I think you miss them,” he said. “I think you miss them more than you can stand to admit.”

  “Cam, I’ve caught you red-handed. You can’t distract me. You’re looking for Lizzie’s package.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  Not even bothering to be subtle, he pushed a bag of vermiculite back into place, no doubt having already inspected behind it. Gabriella didn’t know what to say in the face of his nonchalance. If he got mad at her for coming up after him, she’d get mad back. If he apologized for being a sneak, she’d relent. If he appealed to her sense of honor, she’d tell him to go to blazes. But this not giving a damn bemused her.

  He headed out of the greenhouse, leaving her to follow or not.

  “If you’d found it,” she called after him, “you’d have opened it up behind my back, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yep,” he said, and started calmly down the stairs.

  Flicking off the light and shutting the greenhouse door behind her, Gabriella pounded down the stairs after him. She was out of breath when she reached the kitchen. He’d poured himself a glass of water from the tap. Apparently prowling made him thirsty.

  “Well,” she said, “I’d hardly hide a package behind a bag of vermiculite at Scag’s worktable.”

  Cam drank some of his water, leaning sexily against the counter, “I figured he might be in on it.”

  “He’s not. Look, Cam, I understand your reasoning. I appreciate your concerns. But I promised my friend—”

  “If you’d promised to hold sharp objects for her so she wouldn’t kill herself and to keep quiet about it, would you keep that promise? No. You’d get her some help. Not all promises are meant to be kept, Gabriella.”

  She nodded, feeling her fatigue catching up with her. “You’re a relentless man, Cam Yeager. Give me some time to think this one through, okay?” She breathed out, then eyed him. “What if I hadn’t noticed you that day at Fanueil Hall? Would you be here now?”

  “Probably.”

  He hadn’t even hesitated. Gabriella realized her heart was beating hard and fast for no reason she could comprehend. “Why?”

  He set his glass down on the counter and moved toward her in the doorway. “Because we’re meant to be.”

  She placed both hands on the doorjamb behind her, feeling that the tie had come loose on her robe. She had on just a little nothing of a nightshirt. Her nipples were already poking against its thin fabric, just from him being so close and her being so imaginative. It was almost as if he were touching her.

  “You sound sure of yourself,” she said.

  “I’m sure of who I am and what I do. Beyond that, I don’t worry about.”

  “You’re sure of what you want.”

  She was thinking of Lizzie’s package and his mission to stop Pete Darrow from ruining himself. He smiled, moving closer. “Sometimes.” He brushed one finger along her jaw, sending shivers all through her. “Now, for instance. Now I’m very clear on what I want.”

  Gabriella swallowed. Her throat had gone dry, but a sip of his water wouldn’t have helped. It wasn’t that kind of dry. As he lowered his hand, she caught it up in hers. “I know I’m not—” She breathed, began again. “You and I make a crazy pair. I know that. But I also know that what you want right now isn’t about a month from now or a year or ten years, or even tomorrow.”

  “Gabriella.”

  “It’s about now. And I can accept that.”

  “Gabriella.”

  She rubbed her fingers across the top of his hand, liking the hard, masculine feel of it. “What?”

  He tilted her chin up, kissed her lightly. “Quit analyzing. Your crystal ball broke a long time ago and I never had one. Just cut to the chase.”

  “The chase?”

  “As in tell me what you want now, tonight.”

  Suddenly it all became so very clear to her. What she wanted. Yes. Now, tonight. Which would inevitably lead to tomorrow and would be okay. She believed that. Be responsible to herself now, understand herself now, and what needed to be would be.

  Difficult, however, to explain to a man in nothing but close-fitting jeans.

  She smiled, teasing, edging away from the doorjamb. “I was just thinking, being as serious minded about this sort of thing as I’ve always been, it just so happens that I’ve never ‘cut to the chase.’ Not that I’m a virgin. I don’t mean that. But I’ve never—well, Cam, I’ve never been chased.”

  His eyes had glazed over as if he expected her to talk all night.

  Which gave her the opening she needed.

  Ducking down low, she shot off into the living room, and Cam Yeager being Cam Yeager, he reacted. Boom, just like that. He got it. Woman in a bathrobe. One-thirty in the morning. Chase.

  He caught up with her in her bedroom, just as she’d planned.

  And his mouth found hers, and they kissed again and again, each kiss sweeter and sexier and more enticing than the one before it, until, out of breath now, her bathrobe shed, they fell upon her bed. Cam dug the heels of his hands into the soft covers on either side of her head and pushed himself up off her, gazing down into her eyes. “I’ve never…”

  He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. What he’d said was enou
gh. He kissed her again, and her lips parted as he lowered himself onto her, his jeans barely containing him. She felt the weight of him between her legs. Her nightshirt had scrunched up to her waist in their tumble onto her bed, leaving nothing but a thin film of cotton between them. She felt her own moistness. Her heat. Her need. Her thighs inched further apart.

  He moaned into her mouth, his tongue plunging deep. He grabbed at her hips, kneading the firm flesh, pushing her nightshirt up higher, uncovering her breasts to his touch. He circled her nipples with his thumbs. Impossibly, she felt him grow bigger between her legs, ready to burst out of his jeans.

  The nightshirt came up over her head, and she was naked.

  He gazed at her. She didn’t flinch.

  “Gabriella…”

  “Make love to me, Cam,” she whispered. “Make love to me all night.”

  His mouth descended to her breasts, and he took one nipple between his lips, licked, tasted, teased. She wanted him. Ached for him. He had to know it. Then his hand eased between them, finding the wet heat between her legs, flicked gently, probed, his touch drowning out everything but how much she wanted him. She wrapped her arms around his strong, hard back and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

  “Oh, Gabriella,” he said, his fingers not letting up.

  His buttocks were firm and sleek. The snap on his jeans had come undone, and she got them down to his thighs easily, could feel his maleness thrusting against her thigh. He took a deep, gasping breath.

  In the next instant, the jeans were off, and they’d seen to protection, and he was inside her, hard and hot and thrusting wildly. It was everything she’d imagined, dreamed of, believed could and would happen from the moment she’d first seen him at Fanueil Hall—even if she had been unable to admit it was what she’d wanted.

  Her fingers tightened on his buttocks. She willingly gave herself up to wave after wave of sensations washing over her, robbing her of thought, of anything but the feel of Cam and her response to him. When her release came, he was whispering to her, holding her, enveloping her with his strength and his presence, and it didn’t matter that she couldn’t make out what he was saying. She understood it. On a gut level, she understood that he was urging her to trust him, let go, be everything she wanted to be.