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Authors: Carla Neggers

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BOOK: A Rare Chance
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When she got to the parking area, Pete Darrow eased out from the shadows. “Thought that was you. What happened? You hurt?”

“I'm afraid I got too close to the water and slipped and fell. I'm not hurt, just embarrassed. I feel like a nine-year-old. I should never have gone down there dressed like this. Chalk one up for spring fever, I guess. Would you make my apologies to Joshua and Titus? I'm going to run home and get cleaned up. I'll come back later to pick up my friend Lizzie.”

She started for her car, trying to blame her shaking on the cold.

“Lizzie Fairfax,” Pete Darrow said, coming up beside her. “I know who she is. You two drove up together.”

Gabriella nodded, feeling queasy. “You do keep track, don't you, Mr. Darrow?”

He grinned at her, 007 on the prowl. “I do. There's no need to drive back up here. I'll make sure your friend gets home all right.”

“I don't mind driving back up—”

“It's okay, Ms. Starr. You go on home and rest up.”

She gave him a stiff smile. He knew he made her uncomfortable. He had to know. Under different circumstances, she might have confronted him about following her. “Titus will be driving back to town. Maybe Lizzie could ride with him and save you the trip.”

He didn't return her smile. “I'll ask him.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Drive safely. Get warm.”

She shot into her car and drove too fast off Reading Point, avoiding her image in the rear-view mirror. When she got out to the main road, she pulled into the scenic turnaround, but there were no other cars there. She stayed in her car, her hands tight on the wheel, the engine running. Either Cam had gotten back all right and was on his way home or he'd never been parked there. He would lie if it suited him. Gabriella had no illusions about that.

“Well then,” she muttered, gripping the wheel even more tightly, “he's on his own.”

And so was she.

It wasn't a comforting thought, and when she got to Boston she almost turned onto the flats of Beacon Hill. Cam Yeager lived on lower Pinckney Street. She had his address memorized. But it was dark outside now, and she was cold and wet, and her feet hurt, and she needed to pull herself together before she went knocking on his door.

 

Cam made it back to Boston without flinging himself into the ocean to end his misery or marching up to Joshua Reading's house to strangle his ex-partner. Sore, stiff, wet, and probably doomed to being cold forever, he flopped onto his couch and checked the baseball score. The Red Sox were down to the Yankees by one run. Yankees were up in the sixth, a man on first, one out.

The game failed to distract him. He hadn't even changed. His ankle was swollen and scraped and would hurt like hell all night, and the saltwater had glued his clothes to his body. A cold beer, an ice pack, then a hot bath and a bottle of aspirin were in order, as soon as he could get his sorry self back into gear.

If Gabriella Starr hadn't come along, he'd have either died of the cold or chewed his leg off like a trapped raccoon.

But he was trying not to think about dark-haired, dark-eyed Gabriella Starr in her ruined party dress.

He felt the ache in his ankle now. What kind of trouble was she in with Pete Darrow? Or was it with Joshua Reading? Or Titus? Or all of the above? Did
she
know anything about her boss's gun habit?

Cam used the remote to flip off his television. He could have gone to the ballgame. He had season's tickets. He didn't have to sneak around on Reading Point looking for a secret weapons arsenal. Pete Darrow had told his ex-partner to stay the hell out of his life. Cam should oblige him.

What Darrow would have done if he'd caught up with him out on Reading Point, Cam didn't know. He'd seen Pete coming after him and ducked out of sight, in no mood for a showdown. But he didn't know the ground, and he'd lost his footing and plunged five feet off a boulder. He'd landed hard below the tide line, wedging his right foot between two rocks. Before he could pull his foot free, a loose rock had rolled down onto his lower leg. In his reflex reaction, he'd managed to lodge his foot even more tightly between the two rocks.

Enter Gabriella Starr.

A hell of a thing, being rescued by a beautiful brown-eyed woman in pearls and a party dress. He got to his feet, pain and fatigue rolling over him as relentlessly as the tide had. He supposed it could have been worse.

He could have
not
been rescued by a beautiful brown-eyed woman.

 

Pete Darrow jumped down onto a flat rock above the tide, landing softly. The light from Joshua Reading's house and the array of stars overhead penetrated the darkness, but he only needed to see well enough to identify signs that Cam Yeager had been there and gone, signs that he hadn't been swept out to sea.

He'd seen Yeager fall and get stuck and had figured to save the stupid bastard's ass at the last minute, after he'd had a taste of the consequences of meddling in his ex-partner's life. Yeager had wanted to quit the force and become a prosecutor, and Darrow had let him. Left him alone, left him to do his thing. Now Yeager owed him the same courtesy.

Except, of course, he wasn't on the rocks.

He could have freed himself. Gabriella Starr might not have interfered.

But Darrow knew she had. Her story about slipping on the rocks was bullshit. She'd found Cam and helped him.

So why not mention the incident to her employers' new security man?

The wind swirled around, cold down by the water. The weather forecasters promised fair skies and warm temperatures for later in the weekend. Made no difference to Darrow. He took the weather as it came.

He started back up to the house. For ten years he'd counted Cam Yeager among his best friends. For three years they'd been partners. He'd trusted him. They'd trusted each other. Relied on each other.

No more.

When he got back to the house, he slipped into the library overlooking the northern edge of Reading Point and poured himself a drink. He could hear the dinner party going on in the combined dining and living rooms. Lizzie Fairfax was a big hit. Joshua was smitten. Darrow could tell. She was pretty, elegant, feminine, captivating.

She was also friends with Gabriella Starr.

Even with the windows closed, Darrow could hear the ocean pounding the rocks, the wind.

Yeager
had
escaped, hadn't he? He couldn't have been swept out to sea. Not that damned fast.

Darrow sipped his bourbon. Did he want Yeager dead?

No, he wanted him out of his life. He wasn't going to let Yeager screw things up for him. He'd find Joshua's weapons, and he'd bleed the bastard big time.

And Yeager
wasn't
dead. Gabriella Starr had rescued him. That made her more of a problem than she already was, but not one Darrow couldn't handle.

He patiently finished his drink, thinking and listening to the ocean and trying not to ask himself how in hell he'd gotten to the point where he'd almost let Cam Yeager drown.

Chapter
Four

G
abriella spent Saturday morning overexercising at her Kenmore Square health club and talking herself out of marching over to Cam Yeager's apartment and demanding to know every last detail of why he was following his ex-partner. But he wasn't going to tell her anything he didn't want to tell her. He was a former police detective. He was about to become a prosecutor. He would be into control, caution, keeping secrets. If it didn't suit him, he wouldn't talk.

Even so, she had to admit she was hopelessly attracted to him. His energy and irreverence, his self-confidence, all appealed to her.

So did his thighs, she thought, sliding into her table at the Newbury Street cafe where she was meeting Lizzie for lunch. It was Gabriella's idea. She wanted to spend time with Lizzie, but she was also relieved to have something to do besides track down Cam Yeager and demand answers she knew he wouldn't give her.

Protect her, indeed. Work together, ha.

Lizzie swooped into the little restaurant. She wore a dress that called up images of a spring garden, somehow feminine, understated, and sophisticated. Gabriella had changed from her exercise clothes into jeans and a cotton cardigan in a deep garnet. It was a perfect early May afternoon, warm and sunny, drawing people outdoors. The chic Back Bay street of shops, galleries, and salons was crowded, and spring fever was in the air.

Gabriella started to apologize for her abrupt departure the night before, but Lizzie cut her off. “Don't even start,” she said cheerfully. “I had absolutely the most wonderful time. Joshua told me you fell on the rocks. I just assumed you were up to your usual tricks. Checking out the tide? Honestly, Gabriella. Maybe you've reverted to form with Scag in town.”

“I shudder to think. Anyway, I'm sorry. I'd planned to come back, but—”

Lizzie waved a hand. “Forget it.”

“How did you get home? Pete Darrow didn't drive you, did he?”

“Who?”

“Joshua's new security man.”

“Oh, I know who you're talking about. Tall, dark guy. Reminds me of—I don't know, somebody.”

“Sean Connery as 007.”

Lizzie laughed, clapping her hands together. “Yes, that's it! No, he didn't drive me home. Joshua did.”

“Joshua? But he had to make a special trip—”

“Exactly.”

Gabriella stared at her friend. “Lizzie?”

“He's a peach, Gabriella. Funny, personable, intelligent. We really hit it off. He's invited me to dinner this evening here in town.”

“Is this a date?”

“Yes, of course it's a date. You can be so dense sometimes, Gabriella. I—” She stopped, wincing. “Oh. Wait. Here I go again. I didn't think about his being your boss. I mean, once we were at dinner and we hit it off so well, I just never even thought about it. I keep having to remember you've gone corporate. I hope—Gabriella, you know I'd never want to cause you problems.”

“It's okay, Lizzie. You're free to see whoever you want to see. I haven't told anyone Scag's in town yet, but it's not as if Joshua doesn't know about my past.”

As they placed their orders for salads, however, Gabriella couldn't deny her uneasiness. Lizzie Fairfax was fun, attractive, smart. She loved being in love. It wasn't out of character for her to fall for a man over dinner—or for a man to fall for her.

“I didn't mention Scag,” Lizzie said when their iced teas arrived.

“I wasn't thinking about that, Lizzie.”

“But you haven't told Joshua and Titus that he's in town.”

“I'm just waiting a little while, giving him a chance to figure out what he wants to do before I say anything.”

Their salads arrived, curried chicken with grapes for Gabriella, fresh salmon for Lizzie. “He wants to go back to Ecuador for that damned orchid.”

“He would. That doesn't mean he'll be able to. But that's his problem. Right now no one knows he's in Boston. He can keep a low profile and sort things out for himself. I don't want him worrying about what impact his presence might have on my life here.”

Lizzie raised her chin, her sincere, pretty green eyes fastening on Gabriella. “You can trust me, you know. I understand you and Scag need some time. That's why I brought him up here. He thinks he's going back into the field, but you and I both know he might not get there. I've tried to talk to him about alternatives, but he won't listen. He's stubborn.” She leaned back, smiling. “You two are more alike than either of you wants to admit.”

“Uh-uh. I'm nowhere near as stubborn as that old man.”

“You're as stubborn and independent as he is, Gabriella. Neither of you can stand needing anyone's help, particularly each other's.”

For no reason, Gabriella thought of Cam Yeager.
I'm thinking maybe I ought to be protecting you.
Did she need him? Should she work out some kind of deal with him so they could work together and figure out what, if anything, Pete Darrow was up to?

“Gabriella?”

She smiled quickly, realizing her attention had drifted. “Sorry. I must have done one too many pull-ups this morning. I hate those things. I'm thinking of taking a class in boxing. It's supposed to be good exercise, a great way to relieve stress. What do you think?”

Lizzie wrinkled up her nose. “It's not for me. If I can't wear a pretty leotard, I don't do it.”

Gabriella laughed. “God, I've missed you. You want to come back to my apartment after lunch? Or can't you resist Newbury Street on a beautiful Saturday afternoon?”

“What do you think?” Lizzie asked, a mischievous glint coming into her eyes.

“Newbury wins out.”

“I want to look for a dress for tonight. I didn't bring many clothes with me. I wasn't expecting to stay long, but now—who knows? Maybe I'll come by later this afternoon. Scag's there?”

“Are you kidding? He calls my greenhouse an intensive care unit.”

“Well, I'm glad he's got something to do,” Lizzie said. “Here, let me pay for lunch. You can get the next one. If I don't stop by later, I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how things go tonight. I'm not out for any hot-and-heavy relationship. Joshua Reading and I are just going to have some fun together.”

“I hope you do,” Gabriella said, meaning it.

After Lizzie had left, Gabriella indulged in a strawberry tart and cappuccino while she processed the notion of her best friend dating Joshua Reading. She wanted Lizzie to have fun, but she also couldn't pretend she was enthusiastic about Lizzie—her best friend, her father's rescuer—dating her boss. In spite of their long friendship, Lizzie was removed from the life Gabriella had created for herself in Boston. TJR Associates was her world now. Lizzie was part of her life with Scag.

But, never one to stew, Gabriella realized if Joshua Reading and Lizzie Fairfax wanted to see each other, there was precious little she could do about it.

Would Pete Darrow follow Lizzie too? Did Joshua have any idea what he'd gotten himself into by hiring him?

She shook off the question and headed back to Marlborough Street, determined to at least call Cam Yeager and make sure he got home all right last night. That wasn't impulsive. That wasn't sticking her nose where it didn't belong.

First she decided to check on Scag up on the roof. It was warm enough she might even consider dinner on her deck. She had a teak umbrella table, chairs with plump yellow cushions, a couple of lounge chairs, and a charcoal grill. Mostly her view was of other rooftops, many with decks, but she could also see glimpses of the Charles River off to the west.

She joined Scag in the first section of her greenhouse—Number One, as he called it. Its cool conditions were suited to its assortment of cymbidiums, ondontoglossums, plain green-leafed paphiopediums, and dozens of other orchid varieties that filled every available space, crowded onto shelves and hanging from hooks. Orchids tended to be picky about both light and temperature. If there had to be a choice, Scag would give them the light they needed and compromise on temperature. Generally speaking, too little light and they were likely not to bloom. Too much and their leaves yellowed.

A narrow, pebble-covered aisle led down the middle of Number One, through a door and into Number Two, with its intermediate temperatures, and then to warm, humid Number Three, the largest of the three sections. They cost a small fortune to maintain, and Gabriella was no Nero Wolfe, Rex Stout's famous fictional detective, who had the time, help, and money to keep up his much more massive rooftop greenhouse.

Scag was on a tall wooden stool at the worktable he'd appropriated as his own, cutting away the dead roots of a cattleya for repotting. He worked knowledgeably, quickly. His fingers were callused and scarred, covered with brown spots and prominent veins. Supplies—potting materials, pesticides, tools, fertilizers—were crammed onto shelves and hooks above and below the worktable, three plank boards laid over sawhorses. As meticulous as he was with the plants, he was a horrible slob—a not uncommon characteristic, Gabriella had discovered, of orchid enthusiasts. It was as if his eye only saw orchids, not discarded packaging, candy bar wrappers, dropped fern bark, pieces of broken pots, empty containers, moldy coffee mugs.

“Hand me a cup of pine bark, will you?”

A typical Scag greeting, and Gabriella took no offense. She'd long ago accepted Scag's ways. She dipped a dented metal cup into a large bag of pine bark she'd bought with high hopes of spending a few free hours in her greenhouse. It had stood unopened for weeks. Now Scag had ripped an unartful hole in the top, zeroed in on his task of rescuing her orchids.

She handed over the pine bark, watching as he dumped it into one of his special soil mixtures. This one she recognized as the mix of pine bark, fern roots, charcoal, and peat moss preferred by cattleyas, a popular, generally easy-to-grow orchid genus. As knowledgeable about orchids as he was, as many thousands as he'd seen over the years, Scag was no orchid snob. He appreciated them all.

Gabriella couldn't name the particular species he was working on—there were dozens of cattleya varieties—which would only confirm her father's conviction that she'd been in corporate America too long.

“This little guy kind of got lost in that mess in Number Two,” he said. “I'm hoping I can save it.”

“It could look worse.”

“It could be dead, you mean.” He finally looked up, frowning at her. “Where've you been?”

She should have been at his side, of course, helping him restore her greenhouse to good health. “I had lunch with Lizzie. She and Joshua Reading are having dinner together tonight.”

“He's your boss, isn't he?”

“Actually, I generally report to his older brother, Titus.”

Scag had his dark eyes narrowed on her. “So what're you worried about?”

He would be able to tell she was worried. She manufactured a nonchalant shrug. Heart-to-hearts had never been an easy thing with Scag, even on subjects on which she wanted his guidance. “Nothing, really. Lizzie deserves to have a little fun after she dragged you up here. If it's with Joshua Reading, so be it. Is there something I can do around here? I don't have any plans for the afternoon.”

“Hell, I almost forgot. Some guy's down in Number Two or Three. He came by about twenty minutes ago, asked if I minded if he waited for you. I said yes, and he said he'd wait anyway. Almost smacked him with my cane.”

“Scag, you just let a stranger up here?”

“Thought it was the UPS man with my supply order. Besides, the guy said he knows you. Acts like a cop.”

Halfway down the aisle, Gabriella stopped and looked around at her father. She tried not to reveal the sudden increase in her heartbeat. She knew two cops: Cam Yeager and Pete Darrow. Either one on her roof was bad news. “Acts like a cop? Why do you say that?”

Scag shrugged. “He's got that lock-'em-up-and-throw-away-the-key look.”

“Scag—”

“Go on. You'll see.”

Her heart pounding in anticipation of an unpleasant scene, Gabriella burst through the aluminum door into Number Two, its phalaenopsis, cattleyas, brassias, and miltonias suited to its intermediate conditions. Big fans circulated the mild air, filled with smells of orchids, potting mixtures, greenery. Scag had only just begun to arrange the dozens of plants according to their individual requirements for light, air, and humidity. Gabriella had done her best, jamming new plants into the generally appropriate greenhouse section and keeping them watered and, when she thought of it, fertilized.

Cam Yeager was examining a brassavola glauca in full bloom about midway down the narrow aisle. The orchid's exotic flower was a creamy green with a strong perfume, a contrast to Cam in his Bruins sweatshirt and jeans that clung to his thick sprinter's thighs. He wore a long-sleeved, button-front shirt in a rumpled butter-colored cotton, the cuffs turned up. He had on a pair of black running shoes different from the battered ones he'd worn on the rocks the day before. He looked casual, sexy, tough. Gabriella wondered if he was aware of the impact he had on her. Just as well if he wasn't.

BOOK: A Rare Chance
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