A Rare Chance (11 page)

Cam arched a brow, not sure he could believe the old man's assessment.

“You'd never know it, looking at her, would you? Nice, pleasant Lizzie Fairfax, heart doctor's daughter, debutante, art history major, doer of good deeds on behalf of threatened islands and birds. But trust me, the poor kid doesn't know the difference between love and obsession. How the hell could she? Her parents barely noticed her growing up. Someone pays attention to her, any kind of attention, she's going to respond.”

“Yet she and Gabriella are friends.”

“Why shouldn't they be? Lizzie's a good kid. She means well. Gabriella's got her faults too. She knows Lizzie's had lots of men friends. The rest of it—I don't know, we've never talked about it. It's none of my damned business, really.”

Tony Scagliotti, Cam was coming to realize, was considerably more articulate than he often pretended to be. “But you think Lizzie has a problem with intimate relationships?”

“Yes, I do. She says she's been working on it. I thought she'd been making some progress, but now…” He breathed out, shaking his head once more. “I know I've never met the man, but I'd bet Joshua Reading would love to feed on Lizzie's worst instincts.”

Cam wouldn't be surprised if that were indeed the case. It would fit his emerging profile of the younger Reading brother. “What about Lizzie and Gabriella? Can you tell me more about their friendship?”

Scag's mood brightened. “They were just eight when they met—two cute, wise-assed little girls, different as night and day. Lizzie fair, Gabriella dark. Lizzie rich, Gabriella scraping by. Lizzie always running away from her problems, Gabriella willing to get her head bit off rather than to run. But they both had odd fathers—me because I was away much of the time and had never married her mother, Eugene Fairfax because he was an asshole.” He grinned, unself-conscious. “Not that I haven't been called an asshole myself, including by my own daughter.”

Cam could see it, could understand it. Gabriella having to square things with her eccentric, nomadic father the only way she knew how: right out there in the open. Toe to toe. No having to guess where she stood on any given topic, including her father's failings.

“And they were both smart,” Scag went on, “and they loved the ocean, the islands, birds. Gabriella introduced Lizzie to orchids, Lizzie introduced Gabriella to scones. Once, when I came for one of my visits to the Cape and periodic scoldings from Gabriella's mother, I found them on the beach together, building a sand castle. They were fighting over how close the castle ought to be to the water. Lizzie wanted it far enough away that the tide would never get it. Gabriella wanted it close enough that the tide
would
get it. The sand was better there, she said, and they could build another one—a bigger, better one—tomorrow.”

Cam waited for him to go on, but he didn't. He just stared up at the shifting clouds as if he'd said everything that needed saying about Gabriella Starr and Lizzie Fairfax. Finally, Cam asked, “Who won?”

The old man blinked at him. “You know, I haven't thought about that in years….” He broke off, remembering. “They compromised. That's what they did. They built the main body of the castle above the tide, and then Gabriella built this elaborate moat that led to a tower or knights' quarters or some such thing that she could sacrifice to the tide. They've always been clever about smoothing over their differences. I don't have that ability, or maybe I wouldn't be a lonely old man mooching off his daughter's best friend. Anyway, the point of that story, I guess, is that when there's trouble, Lizzie will sneak off to the high ground. Gabriella won't. She'll go sloshing around in the muck to get what she wants, do what she thinks is right.”

“But isn't Lizzie's obsessiveness in relationships a risk in and of itself?”

Scag didn't answer at once. “She'd have walked away that day on the beach rather than go through all the trouble of building a castle where the tide'd get it. Whatever she does, she wants it to last forever. When she goes into a relationship, she doesn't think of it ending. She doesn't even
conceive
of it ending. It's forever. And a man's got to feel that,” the old man added, tired all of a sudden, gray-faced. “Hell, and this time it's Gabriella's boss. It won't work out, you know. It can't, not the way it's going. It fits Lizzie's pattern too closely. If I hadn't let her drag me up here…”

“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.

G
abriella 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 married 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.