Sleight Of Hand (3 page)

As she reached for the doorknob, the door
swung open and Chance stepped inside. He brushed snow flakes from
his long eyelashes. His eyes narrowed as he blinked.

"What have you done with your hair?"

Not certain if she was pleased with his surly
reaction, she took her time drawing on her gloves before answering
him. "You're the one who said I looked too Big City."

"You look...." He snapped his mouth shut
before she could find out what he thought she looked like.

"The restaurant's open. Let's go." He held
the door open.

She marched past him. "I suppose you've been
down there already asking about my father."

Before she could set a foot outside, he
pulled her back and slammed the door shut. His eyes reminded her of
the ocean at the onset of a storm.

"This isn't going to work. First of all, you
can get rid of those ridiculous glasses. Your father told me how
you hide behind the useless things." He plucked her glasses off her
nose and threw them on top of her hat and scarf on the table. "And
don't wear that stupid hat." He pointed a finger at it. "It's not
that cold out."

She edged away from him, her alarmed
heartbeat sending heat into her face.

"Come on Sarah, don't look at me like
that."

"Like what?" she croaked.

"Like I'm going to eat you for supper."

Dragging her gaze away from the sparkle in
his eyes, she reached to adjust her glasses. Her fingers met empty
air, so she wound her fingers around her camera instead. "Can we go
now?"

"Not yet." Dimples creased his cheeks as a
slow, sexy smile spread over his face. "We're supposed to be on our
honeymoon. Maybe it's time we started acting like it." He reached
out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

This man, he's not.... Her breathless
thoughts stumbled as he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom
lip. A warning signal blipped at the back of her mind, but the heat
from his body as he moved closer drowned it out. She couldn't pull
her gaze away from his as he lowered his head. Just before he
touched his mouth to hers, she caught a faint shift in his
expression.

The complacent rat! She jerked her head back
and ducked under his arm, her body vibrating with outrage. Did he
really think she'd fall into his arms because he smiled at her?
Okay, she took a deep breath, she'd come close, but all that meant
was she had to be on her guard.

No kidding.

"Don't ever try that again."

Now what was he up to? He still smiled as he
turned to face her, not the same seductive curving of his lips, but
a grin, open and honest. If she could use a word like honest to
describe him.

"It was worth a try."

A lock of black hair fell over his forehead,
and his eyes flashed with inner amusement. She automatically
reached for her camera. He looked like the devil's own son; like he
knew what it was to walk on the dark side and loved every minute of
it.

Sparkling blue eyes fringed with thick, black
lashes accented high cheekbones and hollow cheeks. The fullness of
his bottom lip hinted at passion and robbed his strong, rigid jaw
of some of its obstinacy. He was a disturbingly masculine man. The
kind of man she kept her distance from.

She dropped her hands down to her side and
inched back another step as excitement streaked through her. Oh no.
She was a big girl. Old enough to know not to mess with men like
Chance.

"Come on, Sarah." Chance's grin faded. "If
you act like a virgin every time I touch you, no one's going to
believe we just got married."

"I'm not a...." She choked and looked
away.

He grinned again, both dimples popping into
place. "Don't keep me in suspense. You're not what?"

"Why did you make up that ridiculous story,
anyway?"

"You mean the honeymoon thing? I thought if
you did turn up, we'd need a plausible story for being here. It was
either that or buy a skidoo. In November, Ashley Cove isn't the
kind of place people visit without a reason."

"And if I didn't come?"

He shrugged. "Guess my wife didn't follow the
clues too well. It won't take more than a couple of days to find
out if your father's in the vicinity. If I hung around for that
long to make sure you didn't show up, no one would question
it."

"You've figured everything out, haven't you?"
Why did that bother her?

His lips compressed into a thin line. "Not
quite. Let's walk to the diner. We need the time to trade life
stories."

"Life stories?"

"Yeah, I always say if you're going to lie,
you better know what you're lying about." He held the door open.
"How about starting with your mother."

"My mother?"

He drew her arm through his and walked them
both outside, closing the door behind him. "Your father told me you
look exactly like her."

"I do?" The question slipped out before she
could catch it.

"He never told you?"

"No." She stared at the wet, black pavement,
a corner of her mind wondering where all the snow had gone. "He
won't talk about her. I know she's from the Whitley family of New
York." She tasted the old bitterness. "That's The Whitley Family.
All in capitals. I've never met them."

He nodded. "That's who you were talking to on
the phone when I saw you in New York."

She tried to pull away from him, but he
tucked her arm firmly against his side.

"Who was it? Your grandmother, an aunt?"

She hesitated for a minute, but couldn't
think of a good reason not to answer his question. "My
grandmother."

"She sounds like a honey."

She scuffed her big boots through the slush
on the edge of the road. "Yeah."

"Hey." He stopped. "You have no idea why she
didn't want to met you."

She raised her chin, but couldn't stop the
small tremble in it. "Except I don't measure up to her
standards."

"It could be anything. My guess is you won't
be able to change her ideas, so don't try."

She watched a dark shadow move over his face.
"You say that as if you know what you're talking about."

He started walking briskly, dragging her
along with him. "Why come back to New York now?"

Interesting that he didn't want to talk about
himself. Maybe it was better that way. She puffed to keep up with
his long stride. "I told you. The weather got to me."

"You have a trace of an English accent in
your voice. I told everyone I met you in England, and you came back
to live with me. But I really need to know, Sarah. We can't afford
to get tripped up in a conversation."

"So when do I get to hear about you?"

"Me? That's easy. I'm thirty-two, grew up in
Boston, went to Harvard, got my law degree, but never took my bar
exam. I knocked around the world for a few years before working
with your dad. That's how I met you."

"Is that all true?"

"Scout's honor." He saluted her with two
fingers. "Except for meeting you, of course."

"You don't speak like a Harvard
graduate."

He looked pleased, as if she'd just given him
a compliment. "I shed that skin a long time ago. Your turn," he
continued. "New York. Why now?"

She noted the stubborn set of his jaw and
wished she was the kind of person who could make up a lie on the
spot. Her brain wasn't that nimble, although she suspected Chance
could lie well enough for both of them.

"I did feel homesick." When they turned on to
the main road, her courage grew as she noticed the lights from the
restaurant only a block and a half away. "Linda, my best friend got
married, and I...I don't know. She was so happy. It made me feel
like I'd missed something important along the way. I thought maybe
that something was family, so I came home."

They stopped outside the restaurant. A
distant, pulsating, background sound broke the silence. She looked
up and down the street, but saw only a quiet little town closed up
tight, except for the restaurant. "What's that noise?"

Without moving, Chance seemed to melt into
the shadows. "What sound? The people in the diner?"

"No. It's further away, almost out of
reach."

"Oh." His tension melted away, replaced by a
grin. "It's the ocean. Didn't you hear it at the cabin? It's about
a quarter of a mile through the woods from our back yard."

She'd been so angry at him for telling
everyone they were married, she hadn't noticed much. Yet, here she
was, not an hour later, ready to play out the charade. How had that
happened?

She tried to peer through the steamy front
window of the restaurant to see how many people were inside.
Suddenly nervous, she pulled her arm away from Chance and smoothed
her hand over her hair.

"You're going to do fine in there." He
assured her. "Just stick by me and do what I tell you."

She searched his face, wondering just how far
she dared trust him. They were here for two completely different
reasons, she reminded herself. Best not forget that.

"One more thing." Chance took her left hand
and slipped a simple gold band over her third finger. "It's
official now."

Before she could protest, Chance opened the
door to the restaurant. A roar erupted in the room. The small,
narrow diner was crowded with people, all on their feet, clapping
and hooting. Someone whistled sharply, another let out a
catcall.

Chance put his arm around her shoulders and
tugged her against his side. Automatically, she tried to squirm
away, but his arm tightened and held her firmly in place. "Steady,
dear wife. These fine people want to welcome us, so smile."

"Why didn't you tell me there'd be so many
people here?" she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

He laughed. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Hey, Chance, give her a buss," a rough voice
called from the back of the room.

She looked at Chance. "A buss?" she
mouthed.

His grin grew wider and, if possible, more
wicked, as he swung her around to face him. Without warning, he
bent forward and brushed his lips over hers. She sucked in her
breath, the sudden heat inside her in odd contrast to his cool,
firm lips.

"A buss, dear wife," he whispered, "is better
shown than explained."

There was pleasure to be found in any job,
Chance mused, pulling a reluctant Sarah into his arms. And he was
not a man to deny himself.

Her slender body fit against his perfectly.
Had he thought it wouldn't? He dragged the back of his hand down
her cheek and cupped her chin. Her mouth trembled while angry
sparks kindled in her eyes. A little sugar, a little spice. Oh
yeah, he planned to thoroughly enjoy this kiss.

Then he tasted her. Mouth to mouth, lips to
lips, and yes, oh God, tongue to tongue, Chance dove into the kiss,
desire exploding in the pit of his stomach.

He'd left himself wide open, thinking Sarah
had enough restraint for both of them, and now he was sinking, lost
in her scent, her feel. Her mouth tasted hot and moist, he hardened
and strained against the confines of his jeans.

Sarah. He angled his head and dove deeper,
his world narrowing to her sweet, pliant mouth, to the brush of one
delicate strand of hair against his cheek, to the tremble he felt
travel the length of her body.

He shifted again, brought her up against his
heat, his hardness, wondering if he could hold back long enough to
get their clothes--

"Chance. Hey, earth to lover boy."

Straining to breathe, he pulled back and
stared at her flushed face, at the light that shone behind her
incredible green eyes. A voice buzzed in his ear. Vaguely annoyed,
he flapped a hand in the direction of the pesky sound.

That kiss. Her lips. His pulse took another
wild leap.

He wet his own lips, thinking of Sarah's
mouth, thinking of kissing her again. And again, until--

A high-pitched, nasal giggle crashed into his
fantasy. He blinked. Sound exploded around him as though someone
had just cranked up the volume.

For crissakes.

"You've got it bad, eh, Romeo?"

The back of his neck burned as the garrulous
waitress he'd chatted with yesterday over several beer elbowed him
in the ribs.

"I'm Cindy." She smiled at Sarah as she stuck
her stubby pencil into her nest of hair.

"I gotta tell you girl, it's a good thing you
showed up when you did," she continued chattering as she took
Sarah's arm and led her to a booth halfway down the restaurant.

Chance's mind slowly awakened to the fact
that he was standing by himself at the front of the restaurant,
staring at absolutely nothing. He glanced at the crowded booths of
people. If the smirks on some of the men's faces were any
indication, he probably looked as stunned as he felt. He stuck his
hands in his jacket pockets and followed Cindy and Sarah to the
booth.

He had definitely convinced everyone here
that he was hot for Sarah. The problem was now to convince himself
he wasn't.

Cindy wiggled her eyebrows at him after he
hung his jacket on top of Sarah's and slipped into the booth. "The
ladies were taking numbers on who had first go at Romeo here if you
didn't make it. Now that I've seen the competition, though...." She
sighed, gave the red Formica table a quick swipe with a rag from
her pocket and plunked down two plastic covered menus on the table
in front of them.

"Doesn't hurt to dream, I always say. You
wanna a beer first, Chance?" She pulled her order book out of the
other pocket in her apron and miraculously found her pencil on the
first try.

As he started to nod yes, Sarah stiffened
just enough for him to pick up on her tension. Whatever had
possessed him to say he'd cut back on the booze? Perplexed, he
slumped down in his seat.

"Coffee's fine. Thanks, Cindy." The minute
the words were out, he felt a dryness in the back of his throat he
knew only a cold beer could wash away. He frowned and leaned back
as Sarah ordered tea. Maybe Steve had been right to rag him about
the amount he'd been drinking lately. Great, now he had another
thing to worry about.