Chance Meeting (4 page)

In the meantime, he’d share his good fortune, and happily, too. He’d follow Pop’s advice and help out a young, star-struck kid. And who knows, maybe that would give her self-confidence a little boost, win her a few ribbons that she could pin up on her bedroom wall. Because, with the exception of those spectacular eyes, it was hard to imagine her ever being anything but the way she was now: thin, plain, and awkward.

Both girls were studying the medallion intently, whispering excitedly to each other, when, without warning, a man stormed in, startling them all. And total hell broke loose. At six feet, Steve Sheppard considered his height respectable. Hell, he positively towered over his mother, father, and two sisters by seven inches and more. But coming face-to-face with a guy like this was like coming nose-to-nose with a professional linebacker whose main goal in life was to squash his opponent flatter than a pancake. An ambition that might become reality, since the guy had Steve shoved up against the side of the van and was breathing a little too close for comfort. The sight of the human gorilla pinning him against the wall had turned Ty’s face white as chalk. She’d rushed over and grabbed hold of the guy’s arm. A nice gesture but utterly ineffectual; she might as well have been trying to uproot a tree. Lizzie’s face had paled visibly, too, her freckles standing out prominently as she joined her friend in the effort to free Steve. Finally, Steve managed to get his arms up and shoved, hard. Unfortunately for his ego, his attacker didn’t fly across the room as Steve had envisioned but merely stepped back, the promise of murder still in his eyes. Everyone began talking at once.

“If you’ve so much as touched these girls, you son of a bitch, you’re dead meat.”

“No, Sam, no! Sam, please, it’s all my fault. I dragged Lizzie here to meet Mr. Sheppard.”

“Who in hell are you? Girls, do you know this guy?”

“Sam, I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt him,” Ty cried, her voice high, near hysteria.

“Don’t believe her, Sam! I mean, she
is
sorry, but it’s all my fault,” Lizzie cut in hurriedly as she gave Sam a nervous, shaky smile, hoping it might sway Ty’s angry bodyguard. She’d never seen him like this, never realized that he could actually hurt someone. It kind of put him in a whole new light, one she didn’t particularly want to think about. Then Lizzie reminded herself of how much Sam liked Ty. And Lizzie was convinced he had a soft spot for her, too. At least, he always laughed at her jokes. She wished she could think of a good joke now, settling instead for “Really, Sam, we just wanted to say hi to Steve, so we snuck away. It was only for a minute. You won’t tell on us to her father, will you?”

Sam’s eyes locked on Lizzie. Eyes that had always seemed a warm, indulgent brown suddenly transformed into tawny flecks that cut, slicing you to ribbons. Eyes that made his face suddenly hard and ruthless. The Sam Brody staring at her now was not a man to be messed with. Lizzie swallowed nervously, savvy enough to realize this was not a reassuring sign. Meanwhile, Steve Sheppard was looking angry as anything. Who wouldn’t be after being mauled and then forced to listen to some girls’

desperate pleas?

Well, at least she could clear up
that
mess, thought Lizzie as she slipped into the role of interpreter with a great deal more pluck. She gave Steve a bright smile. “Sorry about all this, Steve, but, you see, Sam is Ty’s bodyguard. Sam, you do realize who this is, don’t you? This is
Steve Sheppard,
Ty’s favorite rider. Now you understand why we had to come, don’t you?” Her question ended on a note of pure bravado, convincing only herself that everything had been explained most satisfactorily.
Bodyguard?
Steve heard Ty’s soft gasp and glanced over at her. She was the picture of unhappiness. Like a puppy with no one to love it.
Bodyguard.
The word echoed in Steve’s mind, too bizarre to believe. He’d assumed Gorilla Man was her older brother. “Wait a second, I don’t get it. Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Ty . . .”

But before she could finish, Lizzie interrupted her. It never took long for Lizzie’s buoyant good spirits and thirst for adventure to rebound. As Sam hadn’t done anything to them yet, she figured he wasn’t really going to punish them. He was just glaring like that for effect. After all, it was his
job
to look really scary.

“Oh, she can’t tell you her last name, Steve, her dad’s too important. Super, super rich. Sam here would be forced to kill you with his bare hands.” She barely suppressed a grin, thrilled by the hint of James Bond romance in her answer, and the way it made Ty sound so mysterious. She knew Steve would never ever forget Ty now.

“
Lizzie!”
Ty wailed, too mortified to continue.

Oh, God, Lizzie was so impossible when she let her imagination run wild. What would Steve think if he were to recognize her name? Perhaps he’d even think she believed the silly junk Lizzie had been spouting.

And now it was over. Ty felt as if her heart would break.

Sam stepped forward, his strong hands encircling both Ty’s and Lizzie’s arms. “Let’s go, Miss Tyler.” Ty shrank inside. Sam never called her Tyler. He knew how much she hated it. “You, too, Lizzie, before you concoct any other foolishness. The three of us are going to have a little talk before your classes start.” He didn’t have to speak loudly to have Lizzie’s smile fading and the two girls following meekly, not daring even a backward glance at Steve Sheppard. But Sam Brody did. A final, lethal look in Steve’s direction as he hustled the girls outside.

Jesus Christ,
Steve thought, shaking his head as he watched them depart. He rubbed his face hard as

though awakening from a bad dream.
Save me from rich girls.
There was an incident he’d just as soon forget. Quickly, Steve located his chaps and set off to meet Allegra, who had just skyrocketed in his estimation. At least she didn’t wander around with personal thugs ready to tear you apart, limb from limb. A shame he’d given that girl, Ty what’s-her-name, Pop’s medal. Girls that rich didn’t need his help, or any luck. They just opened their alligator-skin purses.

3

“
I’
m not a baby. It’s not right, it’s not fair to be treated this way.”

With any other girl, reflected Sam Brody sadly, he would have been subjected to the earsplitting strains of a young teen on the verge of a full-blown tantrum. But never with Ty. Sure, the desperation was clear in her voice, but the words came out low, their want of theatrics lending all the more power to her plea.
Christ Almighty,
he thought. Why wasn’t her father here to have this talk with her? But only a fool would go looking for help from that corner.

Tyler Stannard had telephoned half an hour ago, leaving a message with the driver that his breakfast meeting had gone on too long. What with the weekend traffic, the airport was so busy he’d lost his takeoff slot, and the next one available wouldn’t get him into Lake Placid in time for Ty’s classes. He’d check on how his daughter was progressing another day. At least Tyler Stannard’s absence relieved Sam from having to inform his employer of his daughter’s dangerous escapade right away. He could use the time to figure out the best way to present the thing to her father and spare Ty as much of her father’s wrath as possible.

Sam’s blood still ran cold each time he thought of it. He didn’t blame Ty—or Lizzie, for that matter (he knew full well the stunt had Lizzie’s fingerprints all over it). They were good kids, great kids, and they were only fourteen years old, for Christ’s sake, full of budding independence and impossible dreams. No, it was his fault. It was pathetic. Here he was, barely thirty years old, and already he’d grown soft, playing nursemaid and watchdog to Ty. The way he’d sat, minutes ticking by, waiting for her to reemerge from that goddamned portable toilet, was a far cry from the hard-nosed cop he’d been six years ago in New York. God, if she’d really been grabbed, the kidnappers would have been miles away by the time Sam wised up enough to realize she was missing. Sam cursed again.

“I know you’re angry, Sam. But don’t you see, I have no life. I’m like a puppet on some stage; every time I want to do something, I get yanked back. Am I supposed to have a bodyguard forever? If my father prefers to be constantly surrounded by a security detail, that’s fine, it’s his money, but
I
don’t want to live that way.”

“Ty, after all the years we’ve been together, you know as well as I that it’s not up to me to decide on the degree of your protection. Your father says, ‘Twenty feet back, and never out of your sight, Brody.’

Well, then, that’s what I do. And though you may choose to ignore it, Ty, there
are
creeps out there who would love to get their hands on you. Ones who know down to the last shiny penny what you’re worth as Tyler Stannard’s only child and heiress to his billions, and the ones who don’t, who’ll hurt you simply because they can.
Because they like to.
That stupid stunt you pulled just now could have gotten you raped, kidnapped, or killed. Perhaps all three. Don’t ever do it on my watch again.”

It was so rare to see her cry. If anything, she had a tendency to dam all her feelings up inside. He felt like an ogre for making even one tear fall, knowing he’d caused the floodgates to open. She flew into his arms, choking on a sob. “I’m sorry, Sam! I promise I won’t!”

He enveloped her in a bear hug. “It’s okay, Ty,” he soothed gruffly. “Come on, don’t cry, you’ll be all blotchy for your class.” He looked down into her tearstreaked face, trying to coax a smile from her. “

Remember, you’ve got to go out and win those two classes today. You won’t be able to memorize the course if your brain’s all waterlogged.” He patted her awkwardly, his strong hands seeming even larger, completely out of proportion, juxtaposed against the slenderness of Ty’s back. And though he loved Ty as though she were his kid sister, Sam knew he shouldn’t be the one doing this, his anger rekindling at the callous indifference Tyler Stannard showed with respect to his daughter’s emotional needs. Was the guy dead inside? What did all that money mean, what was it worth, if a child didn’t feel loved, if the only hug she got was from her bodyguard?

It took too long, seeing how awful it made him feel, but eventually her tears ceased. A shy smile flitted across her face as she stepped back, her eyes brightening as she drew something from the small inside pocket of her breeches.

“Look, Sam, I forgot to show you. Steve Sheppard gave this to me.” She held the medal out to him. “He said it would bring me luck. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Sam dutifully inspected the small coin decorated with the image of a running horse. His gaze lifted, taking in Ty’s features. The tip of her nose was slightly reddened, her eyes still shining from tears and, Sam suspected, the effects of her first crush. He was fully aware of Ty’s infatuation. She worshiped the ground Steve Sheppard galloped over. He knew about the file she kept in her dresser drawer, bursting with pictures and articles about him. Ty had very few secrets she could hide from her bodyguard. Hell, he knew things he didn’t want to know, for instance that she’d started getting her period at the end of seventh grade. He’d been the one to accompany her to the drugstore so she could buy the feminine stuff she needed, discreetly looking the other way as she carried her purchases to the counter, a stack of magazines camouflaging the boxes underneath.

Once again, Sam feigned ignorance, allowing her the thrill of a secret crush. “It’s real pretty, Ty. Looks like it would make a nice necklace. Better put it back in your pocket for now, though, ‘cause I see the groom walking over with Charisma. You don’t have a lot of time left to warm up.”

Charisma was a dapple-gray Irish hunter, brought over from County Westmeath, Ireland, for Ty’s twelfth birthday. The mare was beautiful: big and strong, with long legs that carried her effortlessly and a coat whose color changed from black to all the shades of gray and then to white as she moved. She was flashy and had a heart of gold. To Ty, she was everything.

Ty was a good, talented rider. Although at first glance her body appeared painfully thin, she was actually quite strong, all sinew and muscle, able to be remarkably agile and graceful astride her mare. What made her an even better rider was that she absorbed her trainer’s teaching and comments like a sponge soaking up water. When Ty rode, she demonstrated such focus that a correction rarely had to be repeated a second time. She worked and adjusted, demanding perfection from herself and asking it of her horse. One invaluable lesson she’d already mastered was to center her attention on her horse. Ty had understood early on that the best riders work with their mounts as an indivisible team. For a fourteen-year-old, this level of understanding set her apart from the other young riders, helping her win class after class. Ironic, seeing that Ty wasn’t even terribly competitive. It was simply that for her, riding was the only area of real freedom. The search for perfection, that wondrous feeling of moving in harmony with the incredible creature beneath her, gave Ty a chance to step outside herself, to achieve a breathtaking flight that in her normal life was simply impossible.