Free A Rare Chance by Carla Neggers Page A

lithophytes.”
    â€œYou’re losing me.”
    She smiled. “Epiphytic orchids grow on other plants, usually trees. Lithophytes grow on rocks. Then there are terrestrials, which grow in the ground.”
    â€œOpportunistic little devils, aren’t they? You know, orchid comes from the Greek word orchis. ”
    â€œYes,” Gabriella said, deliberately matter-of-fact. She would not let this man rattle her. “It means testicle.”
    He glanced at her. “I don’t see the resemblance myself.”
    â€œThe resemblance isn’t in the flower. It’s in the roots.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œAre you fluent in Greek, or is orchis just one of those things that’s stuck in your mind?”
    â€œThe benefits of a classical education. I had three years of Greek in high school. Certain words have stood the test of time better than others. Sixteen years old, I’m going to remember orchis. ”
    Gabriella gave him a steady look. “I hope you’re not going to make me regret rescuing you last night.”
    â€œI don’t know. Do you have a lot of regrets, Gabriella Starr?”
    She maintained her poise despite the slight darkening of his eyes, the shift in his stance as it became not menacing so much as exceedingly confident. As if he had charge of their conversation, even if she might not know it. The suspect under the hot light. His irreverent talk had been a deliberate way of softening her up, taking her off guard.
    â€œWe all have regrets,” she said.
    â€œYeah. I guess we do.” He didn’t push, but Gabriella had no illusions he’d backed off. “You made it home all right last night? No trouble from Darrow?”
    She shook her head. “I saw him briefly. He gave no indication he suspected I’d rescued you.”
    â€œMeans nothing. He hasn’t followed you today?”
    â€œNot that I know of.”
    Cam nodded. “Right. Come on,” he said, turning on his heels, “you can show me what’s through this door. More orchids, I presume?”
    He went ahead of her through the aluminum door into Number Three, walking with a very slight limp. This last section of her greenhouse was like a jungle, warm, humid. Scores of orchids hung from hooks, drooped from shelves, crept along tree ferns and bark slabs. Many were blooming, many were not. Few had felt the effects of Scag’s loving, skilled care.
    â€œIf I weren’t already curious about you,” Cam Yeager said, glancing back at her, “I would be now.”
    Already taken aback by his presence, Gabriella felt her throat go tight and dry. She could barely breathe in the cloying, warm air. She watched Cam walk down the aisle, touching orchid leaves, pseudobulbs, blossoms. He seemed alternately amused and impressed by her collection.
    â€œI doubt you’re here to look at orchids,” Gabriella said.
    He came back toward her. “You know a lot about orchids?”
    â€œA fair amount. My father and mother both taught me. My mother was a florist on Cape Cod. She died three years ago. My father’s Tony Scagliotti. He’s one of the world’s foremost experts on orchids.” She regarded Cam with a determined steadiness. “But I think you already know that.”
    He smiled. It wasn’t a gentle or disingenuous smile. He didn’t mean to make her feel better. He meant simply to let her know that now, finally, they were on the same wavelength. “Yep.”
    â€œIt’s not a secret, you know.”
    â€œI could have asked and you’d have told me all about yourself?”
    â€œI didn’t say—”
    â€œRight. You didn’t say. You let me find out on my own, which I did. I checked with my trusty computer.”
    â€œBut you didn’t know his name. You only had my name.”
    â€œOh, that part was easy. Basically I fed your name into a computer and out popped your mother’s name, your