Sleight Of Hand (19 page)

Everything looked the same, yet his entire
life had changed. Irretrievably. Completely. She'd stolen his heart
with the consummate ease of a master magician. He hadn't seen it
coming, hadn't been prepared for the ultimate sleight of hand.

He loved Sarah O'Sullivan.

Saying it a second time didn't loosen the
tightness in his chest. He looked around the room again and dragged
a hand through his hair. What the hell was he going to do now?

Nothing, chump. Nothing had changed. The
uncertainty of his future still loomed in front of him, would
always loom in front of him. All his revelation had done was give
him another reason to get her out of here.

He felt lightheaded as if his head were about
to explode, and he sat on the bed and covered his face with his
hands.

He loved Sarah O'Sullivan.
Loved her
smile and the way her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He loved how
she laughed, how she blushed when she wasn't sure of herself, the
way her hair framed her face, how--

There was no going back. He'd have to live
with this ache in his gut for the rest of his life. The damned
thing was, he'd known even before he met her this would happen.
Just looking at those photos of her had scared him witless. One
glance, and he knew he was hooked.

He'd handle it the way he handled everything
that had been thrown at him. He'd create a diversion so outlandish
that by the time he dug himself out, Sarah and his feelings for her
would be nothing more than a dim memory.

He scrubbed his hands over his face one more
time and with great effort, made himself sit up straight. Damn, if
he didn't feel old this morning. Too old to start playing games
again. What he wanted to do was get in the shower with Sarah and
spend the rest of the day making love to her.

What he was going to do is take her to
Halifax and put her on that plane if it killed him. The way he felt
right now, it might do exactly that.

"The bathroom's all yours." Sarah's voice
floated down the hallway just before he heard her bedroom door
close with a decided click.

Get your butt in gear. He grabbed his cup
from the bedside stand and drained his lukewarm coffee in one gulp,
then headed for the bathroom. Steve would be on his way to New York
by now. She'd be safe with him. Now all Chance had to do was get
her on that plane.

After he showered and dressed in record time,
he went in search of Sarah. He found her curled up in the old chair
in front of the empty fireplace filing her nails. Watching her
perform the ordinary, everyday task made him realize he'd never
experience the shared intimacy of living with her.

Without speaking, he walked over to the
kitchen to get his jacket.

"Does your ankle still hurt?"

"What?"

"You're limping. I wondered if your sprain
still bothered you."

Everything bothered him this morning.
Particularly the concerned look on Sarah's face. He didn't want her
to care about him. Caring made her vulnerable. Made them both
vulnerable. "A little. How's your head?" He pulled his jacket
on.

She touched the red swelling her bandage had
covered. "Okay, I guess. I took a couple of commercial painkillers,
not those heavy duty ones the doctor gave me. Where are you
going?"

"I'm hungry. Want to come with me and get
some breakfast?" He held his breath and waited for her answer. If
she didn't agree to come with him, he'd have to find another excuse
to get her out to the Blazer.

"At the diner?" She stood and pulled her
bulky beige sweater down over her hips. Instead of hiding her
figure, the sweater emphasized her slenderness.

She was so beautiful. Chance shut his eyes
and locked his jaw tight. Just get her in the car and keep driving.
He didn't plan on stopping until they were at the airport.

"Yeah. I'll warm up the Blazer while you get
your stuff together." He stalked to the door, his heart hammering
in his chest. With that one lie, he'd sealed his fate. Their fate.
Once she realized he'd lied to her, she'd never trust him
again.

But she'd be safe, and that's all that
mattered.

A knock rapped against the door just as he
reached for the doorknob.

Steve. Had he missed the plane? He opened the
door, expecting Harvey with his cell phone, but his polite smile
soured the second he saw who it was.

"You!" His first reaction was to slam the
door in the man's face.

"What the hell's going on? Where's Sarah?"
Derek pushed his way past Chance and looked around the cabin.

Derek Scott. Sarah's pest from New York.
Chance closed the door and leaned back against it, his arms folded
across his chest. The guy looked like he'd hired someone to dress
him a la country. His shiny, black leather boots squeaked as he
moved, and his dark green jeans had a crease down the front of
them. Who the hell had their jeans pressed?

"She's in the bedroom." Chance glanced down
at his own faded jeans, then his boats he hadn't even bothered to
tie the laces on. Helluva time to be worried about his wardrobe.
"What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

Derek halted his surveillance of the room to
glare at him. "Sarah, of course. I had a hunch when she told me
where she was going it had something to do with you."

Sarah had told this goon she was going to
Nova Scotia? Had she told him why? Or worse, had she asked him to
follow her in a couple of days?

The possibility that she was involved with
the theft had crossed his mind, but after meeting her, he'd
discarded it as ridiculous. What if he was wrong? He clenched his
fists, hating the direction his thoughts had taken.

"That tramp who works at the greasy spoon
down the street fed me some bullshit about you two." Derek took a
step toward him. "She said you guys were married, that you were
here on your honeymoon."

Chance wondered if he should aim for Derek's
throat or his solar plexus first. On the other hand, if Derek
talked like that at the diner, he wouldn't have to worry about
taking the jerk down. Cindy would do it for him.

"Her name is Cindy," he said quietly.

"Cindy? Who are we talking about?"

"The waitress. She's a friend of mine."

Derek looked Chance up and down, not
bothering to hide his distaste. "Doesn't surprise me." He looked
around the room again, then shouted Sarah's name.

Sarah stuck her head out of her room, her
eyes wide with confusion. "Derek. What are you doing here?"

"Tell me you didn't marry this guy."

She edged out of her room, the smile on her
face less than convincing, especially when she darted a nervous,
pleading glance past Derek and straight to him.

Relief trickled through him. She may have
told the jerk where she was going, but she sure didn't look happy
to see him.

Chance moved over beside her and put his arm
around her shoulders to give her a reassuring hug. "It was love at
first sight," he said to Derek. "The minute I saw her, I knew she
was the woman for me."

He never thought he'd be saying that out
loud.

Her body softened into his as she slipped her
arm under his jacket and around his waist. He smiled into her eyes.
At first it was for effect; his way of telling Derek, Look at us,
aren't we the happy couple.

But her eyes softened into a misty jade green
that made him feel all tight inside. A blush colored her cheeks,
and he heard a funny little hitch in her breath.

She loved him.
He could see it in her
eyes. She'd told him that at least twice, but women liked saying
that kind of thing. Piss them off once, and you soon learned it
wasn't love they were talking about at all. Sarah had been mad
almost beyond words earlier, yet now she looked at him as if he
were the only man in the world.

Sarah loved him.

"Nobody can get married in a couple of days."
Derek's cynical voice squashed the happy glow that flickered inside
him. "There's all that business of getting a licence."

Chance barely spared him a glance before he
kissed the top of Sarah's head. "Believe what you want."

"What are you doing here, Derek?" When Sarah
pulled away from him, he immediately felt the urge to haul her
back. He didn't trust Derek within yards of her.

"I was worried about you, sweetheart. You
disappeared on me, and I thought...well, I thought we had something
going for us."

"We were just going out to breakfast. Or
brunch." Sarah looked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "Why
don't we--"

"--meet you at the diner? We'll be right
behind you." Chance finished her sentence for her. No way was he
going to give Derek a minute alone with her.

Derek raked his cold glare over Chance again.
His mouth twisted into a tight smile when he turned to Sarah. "I've
come a long way to make sure you're all right, darling. I think you
should come with me. He," Derek looked pained as he acknowledged
Chance's presence, "can catch up with us later."

Chance shifted until he stood in front of
Sarah. He unzipped his jacket and let his hands hang free at his
side as he studied his opponent. "She's my wife. She's going with
me."

A spark of excitement momentarily broke
through Derek's carefully controlled expression as he rolled back
on the balls of his feet. The guy was about as subtle as a wrestler
bouncing into the ring for the first round.

Chance sighed. He really didn't want to take
on the jerk. Fighting wasn't his style. It was much more
entertaining to outwit your opponent, but unfortunately, Derek
seemed a little short on wit. On the other hand, a good all out
fist fight might be just the thing he needed to work off his
frustration.

Sarah's view of Derek's face was blocked by
Chance's wide shoulders. She still didn't know how Chance moved
without so much as disturbing the air around him, but she suspected
why. Moving unobtrusively was no doubt a necessary skill for a
thief.

Tension crackled between the two men. Derek
was two inches taller than Chance and at least thirty pounds
heavier. From the few times Derek had gotten close enough to hug
her, she knew he was solid muscle. Not that Chance wasn't, but she
realized now, Derek had a brutish edge to him that frightened her.
She had to stop this right now.

"Chance?" She felt the muscle in his arm
flinch where she touched him, but he didn't turn around.

"Not now, hon."

"I'm not feeling well." She pressed a hand to
her forehead and the other to her stomach, then wobbled over to the
chair she'd sat in half an hour earlier. The skin around the bump
on her head tightened and pulsed with fresh pain. She plopped down
in the overstuffed chair and leaned her head back against its back.
Oh no, she really wasn't feeling well. A second later, Chance was
at her side.

"Hey." He knelt down to look at her. "Are you
okay?"

She smiled just enough to reassure him as she
slipped her hand inside his. "I felt faint for a minute. I think I
need to eat something."

"How did you get that bump on your head?"
Derek had moved in front of them, arms crossed. His eyes flickered
from her head wound to Chance, then back to her.

Chance stood and took her elbow to help her
stand up. "She had an accident."

"What kind of accident?" Derek stepped
forward as if to crowd them back against the chair.

"The lady says she needs to eat. I'm taking
her to the diner. You can follow us or not." Chance stepped around
Derek and pulled her after him, his grip on her hand warm and
reassuring.

He grabbed her jacket out of the closet,
draped it over her shoulders and opened the door. Just before he
ushered her out into the damp morning, he grabbed her purse and
camera from the small table beside him and thrust them into her
hands.

With a great show of reluctance, he turned
back to Derek. "Are you coming, or do you want to stay here and
toss the cabin?"

"That smart mouth of yours in going to get
you into trouble," Derek murmured as he jostled passed them. When
he reached his vehicle, he jutted his finger in her direction.
"This guy is nothing but trouble, Sarah. Like it or not, I'm not
leaving this dump without you."

Her mind frozen somewhere between disbelief
and anger, she watched him get in his dark blue sedan and slam the
door shut. Had she really been so spineless that she spared even a
minute for him back in New York?

The passenger door to the Blazer swung open.
"Get in. I don't want you fainting on me."

His words were kind, but his tone chilled
her. She climbed into the cab and closed the door, bracing herself
for his blast of anger.

He drummed an impatient tattoo against the
steering wheel with his fingers. "Why did you tell him where you
were going?"

"Stupidity comes to mind." She looked down at
her own fingers laced together in her lap. "I was in a hurry,
afraid I would miss my plane, and he called. Finishing school, you
know." She looked at him, but he stared straight ahead. "If someone
asks you a question, you answer it. Definitely, you never hang up
on someone."

Chance stopped drumming and ran his
fingertips around and around the steering wheel as if the hard
plastic bumps were braille and he was interpreting them.

He stopped suddenly and frowned at her. "You
said you met him only after arriving in New York?"

"Yes. At the magazine."

"Did you ask anyone else working there if
they knew him?"

"No, I...." She rubbed her hand over her
forehead. "He always caught me just as I was leaving the building,
I guess."

Chance reached over and touched her hand.
"Your head really does hurt?"

"A little."

"Want to go back inside and get a pill?"

"I have some in my purse." She patted her
bag. "I'll take one when we get to the restaurant."