Sleight Of Hand
comment, he
realized she'd slipped past him to open the door to the diner. He
hurried to catch up to her. No way was he going to let her face
that crowd on her own.
    A hush fell over the packed diner. The room
smelled of wet wool, with an underlay of grease. He moved closer to
Sarah as she stood inside the door. He wanted to put his arm around
her, but he didn't know if she was mad at him or upset about having
to face these people. Probably both.
    He eyed the crowd. When Cindy marched out
from behind the counter, he held his breath, steeling himself for
her angry accusations.
    "I am so sorry." Sarah's soft, broken whisper
rippled through the restaurant. As she shot into Cindy's open arms,
he felt relief ease back into the room as if everyone had been
holding their breath and released it collectively.
    Except for him. A hard knot settled inside
his chest, and even though he knew it was irrational, he felt a
kick of jealousy that Sarah had turned to Cindy, not him.
    "Hey, big guy." Cindy kept her arm around
Sarah's shoulders as she moved toward him. "You're looking pretty
rocky yourself."
    "Here now, honey." She pushed Sarah into his
arms. "He needs a hug, too. And I gotta tell you." She laughed as
she wiped tears from her cheeks. "If I hug him, I'm not likely to
let go. So, it better be you."
    He gathered Sarah close in his arms and
buried his face in her hair. He'd been wanting to do this
since...since the last time he'd held her in his arms. He needed to
be held and God help him, it was Sarah he needed to hold him.
    The thought stung him, made him want to pull
back, but Cindy's next words had him clutching Sarah even closer to
him.
    "After you left this morning, your father
came in looking for you, Sarah."

Chapter Six
    Sarah took one last look in the mirror above
the dresser and adjusted the thin shoulder strap of her simple
black dress finishing school had taught her to always have at hand.
She tried smiling at her reflection. The ghastly image that grinned
back at her made her look away.
    Suddenly, she longed for her cozy apartment
in London. The background roar of the city had never bothered her
the way the deep silence surrounding their cabin did. She slipped
into her heels, grabbed her small purse and stood with her hand on
the closed bedroom door.
    She wanted her life back, to be on assignment
with meeting a deadline the most pressing thing on her mind. She
wanted Bosman's life back, too, and her father's.
    As long as she was making a wish list, she
wanted back the corner of her heart of which Chance had
mysteriously claimed possession. The sooner they found her father
and the thieves, the sooner she could put this experience behind
her. Put Chance behind her. She shivered. Was it already too
late?
    He'd told her, hadn't he, that he was a
leaving man. Just like her father. The only way to get her life
back, was to walk through that door and keep going forward. Her
father would contact her. He'd already tried to this morning at the
diner. Just before he rushed out into the sudden snow storm, he'd
told Cindy he'd try again soon.
    She smoothed her hand down over her dress,
opened the bedroom door and walked out. Her breath rushed out of
her lungs as she halted halfway into the living room.
    Chance stood by the couch. He tugged at the
red tie she suspected he'd just knotted around his neck. A warm,
endearing feeling flowed from her heart to meet the hot zing of
desire that shot up from below.
    "You look...different." The husky tone of her
voice betrayed her.
    His white shirt and black suit jacket made
him appear authoritative, powerful. Even his casual black chinos
didn't detract from the image. If anything, they added an air of
recklessness, especially when he plowed a hand through his hair and
one lock fell forward.
    Her mouth turned dry with a sudden,
unquenchable thirst. She edged over to a kitchen stool and leaned
against it to support herself, wobbly legs and all.
    "Is that good or bad? I hate wearing these
things."

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