Free A Rare Chance by Carla Neggers

having dinner together tonight.”
    â€œHe’s your boss, isn’t he?”
    â€œActually, 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.”
    â€œHell, 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.”
    â€œScag, you just let a stranger up here?”
    â€œThought 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.”
    â€œScag—”
    â€œGo 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.
    â€œI was just going to call you,” she said. “I wanted to make sure you got home all right.”
    â€œNo you didn’t. You’d have called last night.”
    She gave him a cool look. “You don’t give anyone room to maneuver, do you?”
    He grinned. “Not an inch.”
    â€œHow’s your ankle?”
    â€œIt hurts.”
    He took in the crowded greenhouse with a quick glance. “Quite the orchid nut, aren’t you?”
    â€œThey’re a harmless enough hobby.”
    â€œFor most people.”
    She swallowed. Did he know about Scag?
    He regarded her with an efficiency she’d come to expect from him, his sweeping, penetrating glance taking her in from head to toe. She was relieved she’d changed from her gym clothes for her lunch with Lizzie. Even so, her casual jeans and sweater weren’t a business suit, weren’t a dinner dress. She felt more exposed, more vulnerable to whatever Cam Yeager wanted to see in her.
    He ran a thick finger along the delicate edge of the orchid nearest him. “Some of these guys aren’t much to look at, but this one’s okay. What’s it called?”
    â€œA brassavola glauca. There are about fifteen species of brassavola. They can grow as either epiphytes or