A Rare Chance (12 page)

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.

“Hey,” 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.

She flipped her hair back. “I suppose that's preferable to tracking down killers and whatnot in your former job. If you'll excuse me.”

“A word of advice, Ms. Starr. If I were you, I wouldn't get between Cam Yeager and something he's after. You'll lose.”

She swallowed, her throat tight, her heart pounding. But she'd learned to maintain an outward coolness despite any inner turmoil. “I hardly know the man.”

“Right,” he said dubiously. As she retreated up the gravel path, he added, “I'll be keeping a close eye on things tonight.”

Gabriella resisted a parting comment. Pete Darrow would think what he wanted to think. The more she tried to steer him in another direction, the more defensive and less credible she sounded.

As her father used to say, the more you stir it, the more it stinks.

The fading evening light glistened on the water out beyond the rocks, the day's dark clouds sweeping out to the horizon. She climbed the steps to the main deck, where guests wandered in and out from the adjoining dining room with wine and hors d'oeuvres. It was breezy and relatively warm for evening, comfortable outside for a change. The view, of course, was irresistible.

An elegantly dressed Titus Reading came to greet Gabriella. Sipping a glass of wine, he fetched another one for her from a passing caterer. “I see you made it without any mishaps,” he said. “You're looking awfully serious.”

Lizzie was planning to get married this time. That was enough to occupy her thoughts, never mind that the groom was Joshua Reading—and never mind that she'd snuck a trespasser onto the premises.

Gabriella manufactured a smile and sipped her wine. “Just distracted by the view. It actually feels like spring tonight.” She'd never been especially adept at small talk, and it rang false even to her own ears. “Lizzie's here?”

Titus nodded, not looking thrilled himself about how the evening was scheduled to unfold. “She helped put the evening together. She's very good at that sort of thing. I don't know her very well, but you two…” He shrugged, searching for the right words. “I wouldn't have guessed you and she would be such good friends. But I suppose when you've known another person as long as you and Lizzie have, you're bound to turn out differently. It's not the same when you make a friend as an adult, or even as a teenager. You generally start out having more in common. But when you're eight years old—well, who knows?”

Gabriella wondered just what differences he saw between herself and Lizzie Fairfax and if they had anything to do with reality or if Lizzie was coming across as something she wasn't.

“Friendship sometimes defies logic,” she said lightly. “Lizzie and I have been through thick and thin. I haven't seen much of her since she's been back in Boston, but we've just picked up where we left off. Have you gotten to know her at all?”

Titus didn't answer at once as he drew Gabriella toward the balustrade, where the breeze caught her hair, almost relaxing her. “No, I haven't,” he said finally, looking out at the water. “She and Joshua had been keeping largely to themselves—understandable, I suppose, given the circumstances. She seems very nice.”

“She's terrific. Really, you'll see.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I'm sure. Then you're okay about this rushed engagement?”

Gabriella shrugged and drank more of her wine. “It'll take some getting used to, just because it's happened so fast. I mean, two weeks…Well, I'm sure they'll give themselves some time before the actual wedding. They're just announcing their engagement. But if Lizzie and Joshua are happy, then yes, of course I'm fine.”

“Well, so long as you're okay.”

Gabriella didn't pursue the subject further. She had learned not to insert herself between Joshua and Titus Reading. As different as they were—in age, temperament, drive, experience—they were still family, and she, no matter how important she was to their company, wasn't. She was scrupulous about not criticizing one brother to the other. One reason her relationship with the Reading brothers worked was that she never forgot she was the outsider.

A change of subject, she decided, was in order, especially since Titus didn't seem ready to move on to other guests. Darkness was coming on fast, making the rocks impenetrable silhouettes against the ocean and sky. If Cam was out there, he was on his own.

“I saw Pete Darrow on my way in,” she said casually. “How's he working out?”

Titus turned back to her, visibly relieved that she hadn't pressed him on just what he understood about her and Joshua. “Great, from what my brother tells me. He hasn't done much for me. He did look around our place in the country and, of course, in town.” He and Joshua had sprawling apartments in one of their modern waterfront buildings, never mind TJR Associates' quaint nineteenth-century headquarters. “Joshua's very concerned about his personal safety right now. He's been demanding, but he seems satisfied with Mr. Darrow's work.”

“He doesn't miss the police department?”

“He doesn't seem to. I understand it can be difficult when a partner moves on, as his did.”

She took a deliberate sip of her wine. “Oh?”

Titus nodded easily, apparently assuming they were discussing something Gabriella must already know. “Cam Yeager managed to keep a low profile for quite some time, but now that he's decided to move to the district attorney's office—well, I suppose his family name will put him in the limelight.”

Gabriella almost dropped her wine. “His family name? I don't understand.”

“
Yeager?
” Titus laughed at her mystification. “You grew up in Massachusetts, Gabriella. Surely you've heard of Governor Yeager.”

Governor Yeager? Gabriella blinked, illumination coming slowly. “You mean Pete Darrow's ex-partner's father is a former governor?”

“I'm sorry, I thought you knew. It's one reason Darrow decided to leave. He knew that with Cam Yeager going into the D.A.'s office and possibly into politics, he himself was likely to be under greater scrutiny, by the press and Yeager's enemies if no one else. He was convinced he would eventually not be able to do his job properly. It could all be in his imagination, but that's what he told Joshua and me.”

If Cam Yeager got himself trapped on the rocks tonight, Gabriella thought, she'd let the tide have him.
Governor
Yeager. The bastard could have told her. He was the son of a former governor.

Obviously she should have investigated him as thoroughly as he had her.

Of course, she'd been so preoccupied with Scag's return, and then Lizzie's affair with Joshua and her own troubles with Pete Darrow and, in a certain respect, Cam Yeager, that she'd avoided pushing for information. She'd buried herself in her work and tried not to get ahead of herself and ask questions she had no business asking—or maybe just didn't want answered.

“I should be seeing to the other guests,” Titus murmured politely.

Gabriella nodded absently, staring out at the rocks. The son of a goddamned governor. She'd
kissed
him. She'd fantasized about going to bed with him.

Had Scag realized who Cam Yeager was?

Probably not, she decided. Bad enough he was a cop turned prosecutor, in her father's book. Add a politician's son to the mix and Scag would never have let him up on the roof a second time. Politicians had caused him more trouble during his years of travel than even law enforcement types.

Gabriella forced herself to mingle. Most of the guests had gone inside, where a fire was crackling in the big stone fireplace, taking the damp chill out of the air. The decor was in colors of the sea: grays, blues, greens, whites. Caterers in black bottoms and white tops wove among the gathering of two dozen or so. Gabriella caught sight of Lizzie and Joshua in the adjoining living room.

Lizzie smiled, beaming, and waved, immediately making her way into the huge, airy dining room. “I'm so glad you're here,” she said, drawing Gabriella aside. “Isn't this wonderful? God, I am
so
happy. I've already called my parents, and they're just thrilled. They've heard of TJR Associates, of course, and the terrific work they do, and Mother's met Titus's wife.”

Gabriella smiled, some of her tension easing at her friend's obvious happiness. “I'm glad for you, Lizzie.”

“You are? Really, you are?” Worry etched in her brow, and she squeezed Gabriella's elbow as if to communicate so much she couldn't possibly say, not there in her fiancé's house. “I know you must think—you know, here goes Lizzie again, falling for the first man she trips over, but that's not how it is. Not this time.”

“You don't have to convince me,” Gabriella said warmly. She didn't mean that she didn't
need
convincing, only that Lizzie shouldn't feel compelled to convince her. She shouldn't worry about what anyone else thought; she should want neither to shock nor to please, only to follow her own heart.