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Authors: Carla Neggers

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BOOK: A Rare Chance
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He owned the building. It was a Federal period townhouse on the flats of Beacon Hill. He rented out the upper floors to a psychologist, a Boston University administrator, and a couple who owned an antiques shop on Charles, Beacon Hill's main commercial street. Sometimes he thought about taking over the whole house. Then he wondered what he'd do with all that space.

He ate his cereal standing up, leaning against the counter. He had no idea what he would do today. Pick up Pete's trail again? Check out the Reading brothers and TJR Associates? Do some digging into Joshua Reading's possible gun habit? If he could root out the source of the rumors, maybe he could figure out if they had merit.

Then again, he could start with Gabriella Starr.

He'd awakened thinking of her dark eyes. Not a good sign. They'd sparkled with a mix of excitement and fear when she'd charged after Pete Darrow, a stranger. She could have gotten herself into a hell of a mess and she knew it. Even sitting down and talking to him, sharing her chocolate chip cookies, had been a risk. She had no more idea about either him or Darrow than she did the man in the moon.

Maybe he should follow Gabriella Starr instead of Pete Darrow.

Cam slammed down his cereal bowl. “Maybe you should forget this mess and paint the damned bathroom.”

He got dressed and went out. Spring had finally arrived in Boston, with not even a hint of winter in the breeze off the Charles River. He breathed deeply. But it didn't work. Gabriella Starr's dark eyes were still there, filled with conflicting emotions that both intrigued and worried him. Never mind the brass-tacks suit, she was a woman who could easily get in over her head with a guy like Pete Darrow.

But she wouldn't want to admit it. Cam would bet his Red Sox season tickets on that one. Gabriella Starr wouldn't want to need help. She would want to keep right on thinking she could take on the whole world on her own terms.

Cam understood. He used to think the same way. Only he'd learned. Sometimes you got in over your head. Sometimes you needed help. Sometimes the world got you by the short hairs and all you could do was stick to your principles.

He started up the brick sidewalk toward Charles Street, still with no clear plan. But more and more he was thinking it might be a wise idea to find out a little more about one dark-eyed, dark-haired Gabriella Starr.

 

For the first time in her year at TJR Associates, Gabriella didn't feel comfortable in her third-floor office. Joshua and Titus Reading had selected a nineteenth-century brick waterfront building for their offices, one they had saved from the wrecking crane. Just five stories tall, it had served originally as headquarters to an import-export firm that sent clipper ships out around Cape Horn and made a lot of Boston Brahmins rich. Gabriella's office had a view out across Boston Harbor, sparkling in the spring sun. The furnishings were all period pieces, tasteful and soothing, with an antique Persian carpet in deep shades of green. She had added a botanical print of pink lady slippers for her wall and always kept a vase of fresh orchids on her desk.

She sighed, gazing at today's purple miltonias. Scag had picked them out. He'd shown up at her apartment at seven o'clock to work in her rooftop greenhouse. The condition of her orchids, he said, had given him nightmares. She'd offered to pay him. He'd only glared at her.

Well, she'd pay him anyway. She'd never known Tony Scagliotti to turn down hard cash.

“Gabriella? Are you listening?”

She blinked, snapping out of her daze. Titus Reading had stopped in her office to talk to her about a project in a historic riverfront building in Concord they were considering, but she couldn't keep her mind on what he was saying. She manufactured a weak smile. “I'm sorry. I must be on slow-start this morning.”

Titus acknowledged her apology with a slight nod. He was as tall as his younger brother, but broader through the shoulders, darker, with little of Joshua's easy charm and amiability. There was a twelve-year difference in their ages. At forty-six, Titus was the father of two teenagers, a smart and decent man who'd overlooked Gabriella's two-year hiatus with her notorious father.

She remembered sitting in his office, still pale from her ordeal in a Peruvian prison. She and Scag had been arrested and jailed for trespassing, a situation he had only made worse by arguing with the landowner and lecturing the authorities on international law protecting rare and endangered orchids. Titus had chosen to view her adventures with her father as an asset rather than a career liability. He'd been willing to consider her education, her pre—Scag experience, her determination to apply her energy and skills to a stable career. She'd gotten the lure of her father's chaotic life out of her system and wouldn't likely succumb to it again. As a result, she knew more about herself than did most thirty-one-year-olds.

And, of course, she'd promised him she was finished with Tony Scagliotti. The life he led would kill him, probably sooner rather than later. She wasn't going to help, and she wasn't going to be around for the end. She'd had enough.

Only now he was back in Boston, and Titus Reading would want to know. He
deserved
to know. Scag was a Boston native, born and raised in the North End. His expertise in orchids was largely self-taught, his fame more the result of his exploits and passion for orchids than his occasional scholarly publication. The Boston media always took an interest in his goings-on. That he was in town, injured, and rescuing his estranged daughter's rooftop orchids would drive at least a few reporters to her apartment. It wasn't the sort of publicity Titus Reading would welcome for TJR Associates. But right now, Gabriella thought, Scag was keeping a low profile. Only she and Lizzie Fairfax knew he was in town. He could easily decide he was mended and sneak back out again in a week or two, with no one the wiser. Why worry Titus if there was no need?

He got to his feet. He was conservatively dressed in a light gray suit, every inch the Boston executive. “I'll come back after you've had lunch.”

“Thanks.”

“You haven't been buying too many orchids lately, have you? That's not what's distracting you?”

She smiled. “No, I've been very restrained.”

“I wonder what Tony Scagliotti's daughter considers ‘restrained' when it comes to orchids.”

His tone was teasing, not threatened, because he was talking about Scag in the abstract. He didn't have to deal with the real risk of an eccentric orchid expert bursting upon the scene and wreaking havoc, as only Tony Scagliotti could, with TJR Associates' carefully managed, restrained, upscale image.

Just as well to spare him, Gabriella decided.

Not long after he left, Lizzie Fairfax appeared in her doorway, dressed in clingy jeans, cowboy boots, and a white shirt, her honey hair pulled back. “There you are! I took a wrong turn at the top of the stairs.
Nice
office.” Her well-trained artistic eye surveyed her surroundings. “Even Scag would be impressed.”

“Don't count on it.”

“Well, I was just at a loose end and thought I'd stop by and see if I could spirit you off to lunch. Sorry I didn't call first. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all.”

Gabriella rose, aware of a slight uneasiness. It was common knowledge that Lizzie Fairfax was Tony Scagliotti's prime benefactor. Would her presence alert Titus or even Joshua that something was up regarding Gabriella's father? Should she just go ahead and tell them he was in town?

But she remembered yesterday at Fanueil Hall Marketplace. Until she knew why Pete Darrow was following her, perhaps she should keep her cards close to her chest and her mouth shut.

“Lunch sounds great,” she said.

Lizzie frowned. “You're sure? Gabriella, if I'm intruding—”

“You're not. Really.” She smiled, knowing it was true. “I'm glad you came by. It's been too long, Lizzie. Way too long. I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too, Gabriella. I—I really do understand why you did what you did. Maybe I haven't done Scag any favors, but I just couldn't…” She shrugged, not completing her sentence. “I guess I just did what I had to do too.”

Gabriella walked around her desk to her friend. Her best friend. They'd been friends since they were eight, she and Lizzie Fairfax. Maybe their year apart had done them both good. “They've turned the building where Scag grew up into a restaurant. They make their own pasta. We can go there for lunch and catch up. I have a two o'clock meeting. So long as I'm back by then, we'll be fine.”

But before they could get out of the building, Joshua Reading caught up with them at the top of the stairs. “Gabriella—oh, sorry.” He stopped short, glancing at Lizzie. “I thought you were someone with the company.”

“This is Lizzie Fairfax,” Gabriella said, as graciously as she could manage. “An old friend of mine. She's visiting from Miami. Lizzie, this is Joshua Reading.”

Lizzie turned on her Beacon Hill manners. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Reading.” She took Joshua's extended hand briefly. “I've been admiring the building. It's really very impressive. I'd heard TJR Associates does marvelous work.”

“Thank you. I hope you enjoy your stay in Boston.” He glanced at Gabriella. “I won't keep you from your reunion. I just wanted to let you know that Titus and I are hosting an impromptu dinner this evening for a group of architects visiting from Hong Kong. It'll be at my place up on the North Shore. We hope you can join us.” Charming as ever, he turned back to Lizzie. “We'd love to invite you as well, Ms. Fairfax.”

“I'd be delighted to come. Thank you.”

Gabriella kept her expression neutral. She could see that Lizzie was smitten, unable to think through the potential awkwardness of her turning up for a dinner hosted by Gabriella's employers.

Joshua smiled. “Terrific. I'll see you both this evening then.”

The possible consequences of what she'd done didn't hit Lizzie until she and Gabriella were out on the street. “Good heavens, I never even thought—” She turned a panicked look on Gabriella. “He just doesn't look like a boss. I can always not go.”

“No, forget it,” Gabriella said, laughing, glad that Lizzie Fairfax was back in her life. “We'll have a great time.”

Chapter
Three

W
hen Cam Yeager crossed Marlborough Street to greet her, Gabriella tried to tell herself she shouldn't be surprised. He was wearing wrinkled gray canvas pants and a Red Sox sweatshirt, and he needed a shave. Presumably he would either grow a beard or shave regularly when he started at the district attorney's office.

“You look as if you've spent the day slaying financial dragons,” he said, trotting up to her.

She didn't know if he was responding to her cream raw silk suit or her expression. She'd been distracted while walking up Marlborough, thinking she might yet make it through the day without seeing hide nor hair of either him or Pete Darrow.

“I suppose this isn't a coincidence,” she said.

“Nope. Your number's listed in the phone book under ‘Starr, Gabriella.' Imagine that.” He gave her a quick, efficient once-over. “I like the shoes.”

She had put on her running shoes to walk from TJR Associates. She slung her leather tote bag down off her shoulder and set it on the sidewalk. “If you're here to find out if Pete Darrow followed me today, I can tell you he didn't.”

Yeager's sea-blue eyes narrowed, turning serious. “Yes he did. He followed you and the blonde to lunch. A friend of yours?”

Gabriella took a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm. “Yes.”

“He interrupted his little vigil long enough to threaten to beat the hell out of me. I was never any good at tailing people, and Pete's got this sixth sense about someone watching him. You know he's moved up to Joshua Reading's place on the North Shore? He might as well be a live-in bodyguard. I still don't like it.”

“That's not my problem. Look—”

“You ever go up there?”

“On occasion. I am tonight, for a business dinner. Mr. Yeager—
Cam
…” She sighed. “It's not that I don't want to trust you; it's that I don't dare to. So if you'll excuse me, I need to get upstairs.”

He leaned on the wrought-iron railing of her front stoop, sexy, earthy. The attraction she felt only made dealing with him that much more unsettling. He studied her. She tried not to squirm under his practiced scrutiny.

“Maybe I could tag along with you tonight,” he said.


What?
Are you crazy?”

He shrugged. “It was just an idea. You want to know what Pete's up to, and so do I. This is one way of finding out. Might work, might not. I think it's worth a try.”

“No. If I were caught and had to explain you…” She shook her head. She didn't know what would happen if she had to explain Cam Yeager to Joshua, Titus, Pete Darrow himself. She wasn't sure she
could
explain him. “Never mind. It doesn't matter. You're not coming with me.”

“Yeah, I guess I wouldn't want me tagging along if I were in your position. You talk to your bosses about Darrow?”

“Not really.”

“You don't want them to know you know he's following you?”

“It's not that. I'm just trying not to do anything precipitous.” Especially, she thought, with her father in town.

“Any chance you found out how much Darrow's making?”

“No.”

He grinned. “Would you tell me if you had?”

“Maybe. I don't know. I take it you're sticking to your story: You're going to all this trouble just because Pete Darrow resigned from the police force and you can't understand it.”

“That's right.”

“Well, I'm glad you're not my friend.”

He rolled off the railing. “I'll bet you are. Still have my address and phone number?”

“I won't need you.”

He grinned and chucked her under the chin with one knuckle. “You never know, Gabby. One of these days you just might.”

She didn't wait for him to saunter out of sight before pounding up the front steps into her building, then taking the three flights of stairs to her apartment as fast as she could. The man was relentless, intriguing, irreverent. He wasn't going to back off until he got what he wanted.

Is he dangerous?

If you cross him, yes.

He'd meant Pete Darrow. But Gabriella had the feeling Cam Yeager could have been talking about himself as well. She shuddered and unlocked her door, pushed it open, then remembered Scag was on the roof. A familiar mix of irritation and relief rushed over her, inevitably the case when her father was within a thousand miles.

She found him at the worktable just inside her specially built rooftop greenhouse. He was in his element. The greenhouse had three climate-controlled sections for her hundreds of orchids. She hadn't meant to have so many. But once started, her collection had quickly multiplied way out of proportion to the amount of time she had available to tend it.

Scag had gone straight to work. He'd started rearranging, sorting, dumping, repotting. Gabriella was just happy to have him busy while she figured out what to do with him.

“I made a list of supplies I need,” he said without looking up. “It's going to take several weeks and a pot of money to pull this place together. You want me to put in an order?”

She glanced at his list. Scag had spared no expense in devising it, but she didn't argue with him. “Go ahead.”

“I'll tell them it's an emergency, see what they can do. I'll use the phone downstairs and call it in.”

He reached for his cane. Gabriella wondered if it would become a permanent fixture in his life. He looked less gray-faced, less exhausted than he had the night before, but still feeble. She'd offered to set up a doctor's appointment for him. He'd declined. All he needed, he insisted, was a little time to mend.

“Need help getting downstairs?” she asked.

“I can manage.”

He pushed through the aluminum door out onto the deck, where she'd finally uncovered her teak furniture, and down the stairs to the kitchen. Gabriella followed him, feeling frazzled. She had an ex-cop on her doorstep and her eccentric, injured father on her roof. Lizzie Fairfax was coming to dinner with her and the Reading brothers. Pete Darrow was still following her. What next?

While Scag called in his supply order, Gabriella retreated to her bedroom to get dressed. In no mood to fool with what to wear, she chose a simple black dress with a strand of pearls, pearl earrings, and strappy black shoes. She combed out her hair and darkened her cosmetics, adding a smudge of charcoal liner to her eyes and going for red lipstick. She was done.

Lizzie was waiting for her in the living room. She had on a peach dress that managed to be elegant, understated, and sexy. “Scag let me in,” she said, dangling a set of keys. “He gave me my own set of keys. You know Scag. I came by this afternoon, and he had to come down from the roof to buzz me in. He thought it'd be easier if I had my own keys. I told him it was up to you—”

Gabriella waved a hand. “It's okay, Lizzie. I don't mind.”

She smiled. “That's what he said you'd say.”

“He doesn't know me half as well as he thinks he does. He's gone home?”

“He instructed me to tell you he'd be back first thing in the morning to continue triage.”

“Triage. I swear he can't understand how a single orchid survives without his intervention. If he'd waited ten minutes, I could have given him a ride.”

“I suggested that to him,” Lizzie said. “But he insisted on taking public transportation. He doesn't want to be beholden to you in any way.”

“Ha. He just doesn't want to hear me tell him I told him so.”

“That too.”

Gabriella glanced at her friend. “I did tell him, Lizzie. He has options. He doesn't have to traipse after orchids for the rest of his days. He could be a contributing editor for horticultural magazines, an expert for botanical gardens, he can lecture at garden societies and colleges, write books and articles, even his memoirs. He doesn't have to climb trees in Ecuador in search of the one epiphyte left in the world he might not have seen.”

Before Lizzie could respond, Gabriella grabbed her handbag and started for the door. She supposed she should change to a dinner bag but didn't bother. Having Scag back in her life, she thought, had really flustered her. Of course, it was easier to blame him for her mood than admit how much it had bothered her to find Cam Yeager on her doorstep.

Had
he spotted Pete Darrow following her and Lizzie? Or had he been following them himself and just added Darrow to the scene for his own convenience, to convince Gabriella to help him figure out what his ex-partner was up to?

Why would he need her help?

Groaning to herself, she headed out. Lizzie followed. “Gabriella, are you all right?” she asked tentatively.

“I'm sorry. Yes, I'm fine. I'm just—” She stopped. No, she didn't yet want to explain Cam Yeager and Pete Darrow. Let Lizzie enjoy her evening on Reading Point. Even if it was just pride that was holding her back, Gabriella didn't need Lizzie fretting about her. She paused on the landing, glancing around at her friend. “I guess I just worry about Scag, in spite of myself.”

“He doesn't help matters by being so ornery.”

Gabriella laughed. “What else is new?”

 

The most tangible consequence of Joshua Reading's near-kidnapping a month earlier was the addition of an unmanned electronic security gate on the narrow, paved road out to his house on Reading Point. Gabriella rolled down her window and identified herself over an intercom, and the gate opened.

“Sort of your fortress mentality,” Lizzie said beside her.

Gabriella eased her car down the road, flanked by drooping pines and white-trunked birches and poplars just leafing out. She could see glimpses of the water down the gently sloping bank to her right. Farther out on the point, the shore became steep and treacherous, but also dramatically beautiful with its huge rocks and spectacular views.

“He's hired a new security man, an ex-cop,” Gabriella said. “It sounds like overkill to me, but I guess I shouldn't talk since no one's ever tried to kidnap me.”

Lizzie scoffed as she took in the view out the passenger window. “You've been
shot,
Gabriella. You do recall that poacher in Tahiti?”

She did. She also recalled that her father had exhibited more interest in protecting an endangered orchid than his daughter. He'd insisted she was in no serious danger and had reminded her she hated anyone hovering over her. It was true, but there were exceptions—namely when an angry poacher had a gun pointed at her.

“It was just a graze,” she told Lizzie. “I only needed a couple stitches. Anyway, people respond to fear in different ways. Joshua's had his sense of personal security undermined. He can't pretend he's invulnerable anymore. Knowing him, he'd also take any threat against him as a potential threat against TJR Associates and respond accordingly.”

“So he's not just being a weenie?”

Gabriella shook her head.

Lizzie grinned, settling back in her seat. “Good, because I think he's kind of cute.”

“Cute? Joshua Reading?”

“Yeah, sure. Haven't you noticed?”

“Not really, no.” She decided not to mention that Joshua Reading had once asked her to dinner—not on business; she'd nipped that subtle advance in the bud. No romance on the job. It was one of her unbreakable rules. “Anyway, I don't think like that. I treat people as individuals.”

Lizzie snorted, laughing. “Listen to you! As if you've never noticed a man's biceps before. When did Gabriella Scagliotti Starr become so repressed? You who used to criticize me for being uptight on matters of the heart. Joshua's single. Haven't you ever thought about dating him?”

“No.”

“I'll bet he's thought about dating you,” she said slyly.

Gabriella glanced over at her. “Lizzie, if you're going to cause trouble tonight, I'm turning around right now. I swear I am.”

Lizzie gave a mischievous grin. “He
has
thought about dating you.”

“Lizzie.”

“Oh, you're so honorable. You'd never even consider dating your boss, would you?”

“First, I'm not interested. Second, yes, I believe there are too many pitfalls to dating a co-worker, never mind a boss. Third, I've been too busy this past year to bother much with men.”

“You haven't had
any
dates?”

“A few.”

She left it at that. Her dates since her return to Boston had been perfunctory. Dinner, the theater, a good-night peck at the door. She'd yet to find a man who could reconcile, never mind understand, the two sides of her personality that had her hunting for orchids with her crazy father on the one hand and putting together business deals on the other. Joshua Reading, for certain, wasn't a candidate. However much she might respect his natural ease with people, he'd never shown any indication of understanding
either
side of her personality.

BOOK: A Rare Chance
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