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thief...what's his name? Simple Simon.
Yeah. You think he's going to show up here? This isn't New York,
Chance."
    Chance choked on his scallop, a mix of fear
and glee threading through him. He couldn't wait to catch
O'Sullivan in action.
    On the other hand, he'd half promised FBI
Agent Gage he wouldn't leave the States. If I ever crawl out of
my buddy Steve's bar and move on, I'll let you know. Gage had
smirked and raised an eyebrow, but he hadn't said anything.
    Chance gripped his fork until the metal bit
into his hand. He wished he knew what the agent had on him that
made him act so damned smug. If O'Sullivan stole more paintings,
and Chance was discovered in the area, he could be in deep, deep
trouble.
    "An event like this must bring lots of
strangers to town." Sarah hadn't quite masked the tremble in her
voice or in her hand as she put her teacup down.
    Hell. He dropped his fork. Don't do this,
man. Don't get involved. But, he couldn't not reach out to her.
He picked up her hand and feeling it tremble, encased it with both
of his.
    "We're only getting part of the exhibition,"
Cindy explained. "The main show is in Halifax, so no, we're not
likely to get a lot of out-of-town folks. But with the school kids
and the people living along the coast, there should be a fair
lot."
    Cindy frowned at Sarah. "Honey, are you all
right?"
    Dark purple shadows bloomed under Sarah's
eyes as her face blanched white. She pushed her plate of food away
and huddled back into the corner of the booth.
    "She's hungry and tired." He had to get rid
of Cindy before Sarah said something that might betray them. "Don't
suppose you could heat our dinners up, could you?"
    "It'll take a minute. I'll nuke them." Cindy
whisked the plates on to her tray and hurried back to the
kitchen.
    Like a captured bird, Sarah's hand fluttered
between his. The feeble movement chased away his exhilaration at
discovering a link between Ashley Cove and the museum theft that
had the FBI breathing down his neck.
    No way was he going to feel guilty about
closing in on O'Sullivan. He snatched his hands away and turned to
confront Sarah with her father's guilt.
    Her dark green eyes were dim with fear, and
he cursed O'Sullivan for the heartless bastard he was. How could
her own father put her through this?
    He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.
"There's no sense in getting all tied up in knots just yet. Things
aren't always what they appear to be."
    She stayed slumped in her corner of the
booth. After a minute, she suddenly sat up straight, her eyes
bright as she stared straight ahead. "You're right." She nodded and
reached out to place a hand on his thigh. His thigh .
    Chance sucked in his breath and held it. Did
she know what she was doing?
    "At first, I thought...." She stopped and
squeezed his leg, her gaze still trained on some distant point in
front of her. He prayed to all that he held holy, that his body
wouldn't betray him. Or at the very least, Sarah wouldn't realize
the effect she had on him.
    "I thought you might be dangerous. But
sometimes, like when we were talking about my grandmother, I don't
think you are."
    Oh, there was danger here, all right. He
forced himself to think of icicles and all things frigid. Anything
except for Sarah's hand that rested lightly only inches away from
the growing bulge in his jeans.
    Was she doing this on purpose? Chance studied
the puzzled look in her eyes. His heartbeat drummed louder in his
ears as her delicate scent drifted over to him. She smelled good
enough to eat, and God knows, he was a hungry man. For a second, he
was tempted to shift those few heavenly inches toward her to feel
her hand brush against him.
    He dragged in a deep breath and tried to pull
it all together. A flash of anger swallowed his raging appetite. Prison . That's the thought he had to keep foremost in his
mind. Sarah, his attraction to her...well, he'd just have to learn
how to handle it.
    Yeah, he nodded as he took another cleansing
breath. He shifted