“Make sure it’s real.”
“Of course it’s real,” she said impatiently. “I know it’s real.”
He merely arched a brow. “Prove it.”
With a huffing breath, she turned and headed for a microscope. She employed the dark-field illuminator, adjusting the focus on the binocular microscope with instinctive efficiency.
“Beautiful,” she said after a moment, with a tint of reverence in her voice. “Just beautiful.”
“What do you see?”
“The interior of the stone. There’s no doubt it’s of natural origin. The inclusions are characteristic.”
“Let’s see.” He nudged her aside, bent to the microscope himself. “Could be anything.”
“No, no. There are no air bubbles. There would be if it was paste, or strass. And the inclusions.”
“Doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s blue, and blue means sapphire.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, sapphire is corundum. Do you think I can’t tell the difference between carbon and corundum?” She snatched up the stone and marched to another instrument. “This is a polariscope. It tests whether a gem is singly or doubly refracting. As I’ve already told you, sapphires are doubly refracting, diamonds singly.”
She went about her work, muttering to herself, putting her glasses on when she needed them, slipping the eyepiece into the V of her blouse when she didn’t. Every move competent, habitual, precise.
Cade tucked his hands in his back pockets, rocked back on his heels and watched.
“Here, the refractometer,” she mumbled. “Any idiot can see the refractive index of this stone says diamond, not sapphire.” She turned, holding up the stone. “This is a blue diamond, brilliant-cut, weighing 102.6 carats.”
“All you need’s a lab coat,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“You work with this stuff, Bailey. I thought it might be a hobby, but you’re too precise, too comfortable. And too easily annoyed when questioned. So my conclusions are that you work with stones, with gems. This type of equipment is as familiar to you as a coffee maker. It’s just part of your life.”
She lowered her hand and eased herself back onto a stool. “You didn’t do all this, go to all this trouble, so we could identify the diamond, did you?”
“Let’s just say that was a secondary benefit. Now we have to figure whether you’re in the gem or jewelry trade. That’s how you got your hands on this.” He took the diamond from her, studied it. “And this isn’t the kind of thing you see for sale at Westlake or any other jeweler. It’s the kind of thing you find in a private collection, or a museum. We’ve got a really fine museum right here in town. It’s called the Smithsonian.” He lowered the stone. “You may have heard of it.”
“You think…I took it out of the Smithsonian?”
“I think someone there might have heard of it.” He slipped the priceless gem casually into his pocket. “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. They’ll be closed. No, hell, Tuesday.” He hissed between his teeth. “Tomorrow’s the Fourth, and Monday’s a holiday.”
“What should we do until Tuesday?”
“We can start with phone books. I wonder how many gemologists are in the greater metropolitan area?”
The reading glasses meant she could pore through all the books without risking a headache. And pore through them she did. It was, Bailey thought, something like rereading well-loved fairy tales. It was all familiar ground, but she enjoyed traveling over it again.
She read about the history of intaglio cutting in Mesopotamia, the gems of the Hellenistic period. Florentine engravings.
She read of famous diamonds. Of the Vargas, the Jonker, the Great Mogul, which had disappeared centuries before. Of Marie Antoinette and the diamond necklace some said had cost her her head.
She read technical explanations on gem cutting, on identification, on optical properties and formations.
They were all perfectly clear to her, and as smooth as the carnelian tumble stone she worried between her fingers.
How could it be, she wondered, that she remembered rocks and not people? She could easily identify and discuss the properties of hundreds of crystals and gems. But there was only one single person in the entire world she knew.
And even that wasn’t herself.
She only knew Cade. Cade Parris, with his quick, often confusing mind. Cade, with his gentle, patient hands and gorgeous green eyes. Eyes that looked at her as though she could be the focus of his world.
Yet his world was so huge compared to hers. His was populated by people, and memories, places he’d been, things he’d done, moments he’d shared with others.
The huge blank screen that was her past taunted her.
What people did she know, whom had she loved or hated? Had anyone ever loved her? Whom had she hurt or been hurt by? And where had she been, what had she done?
Was she scientist or thief? Lover or loner?
She wanted to be a lover. Cade’s lover. It was terrifying how much she wanted that. To sink into bed with him and let everything float away on that warm river of sensation. She wanted him to touch her, really touch her. To feel his hands on her, skimming over naked flesh, heating it, taking her to a place where the past meant nothing and the future was unimportant.
Where there was only now, the greedy, glorious now.
And she could touch him, feel the muscles bunch in his back and shoulders as he covered her. His heart would pound against hers, and she would arch up to meet him, to take him in. And then…
She jumped when the book slapped shut.
“Take a break,” Cade ordered, shifting the book across the table where she’d settled to read. “Your eyes are going to fall out of your head.”
“Oh, I…” Good God, she thought, goggling at him. She was all but trembling, brutally aroused by her own fantasy. Her pulse was skidding along like skates on bumpy ice. “I was just—”
“Look, you’re all flushed.”
He turned to get the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator, and she rolled her eyes at his back. Flushed? She was flushed? Couldn’t the man see she was a puddle just waiting to be lapped up?
He poured her a glass over ice, popped the top on a beer for himself. “We’ve done enough for one day. I’m thinking steaks on the grill. We’ll see if you can put a salad together. Hey.” He reached out to steady the glass he’d handed her. “Your hands are shaking. You’ve been overdoing it.”
“No, I…” She could hardly tell him she’d just given serious thought to biting his neck. Carefully she removed her glasses, folded them, set them on the table. “Maybe a little. There’s so much on my mind.”
“I’ve got the perfect antidote for overthinking.” He took her hand, pulled her to the door and outside, where the air was full of heat and the heady perfume of roses. “A half hour of lazy.”
He took her glass, set it on the little wrought-iron table beside the rope hammock, put his beer beside it. “Come on, we’ll watch the sky awhile.”
He wanted her to lie down with him? Lie down cupped with him in that hammock, while her insides were screaming for release? “I don’t think I should—”
“Sure you should.” To settle the matter, he gave her a yank and tumbled into the hammock with her. It rocked wildly, making him laugh as she scrambled for balance. “Just relax. This is one of my favorite spots. There’s been a hammock here as long as I can remember. My uncle used to nap in this red-and-white striped one when he was supposed to be puttering around the garden.”
He slid his arm under her, took one of her nervous hands in his. “Nice and cozy. You can see little pieces of sky through the leaves.”
It was cool there, shaded by the maples. She could feel his heart beating steadily when he laid their joined hands on his chest.
“I used to sneak over here a lot. Did a lot of dreaming and planning in this hammock. It was always peaceful over here, and when you were swinging in a hammock in the shade, nothing seemed all that
urgent.”
“It’s like being in a cradle, I suppose.” She willed herself to relax, shocked to the core at how much she wanted to roll on top of him and dive in.
“Things are simpler in a hammock.” He toyed with her fingers, charmed by their grace and the glitter of rings. He kissed them absently and made her heart turn over in her chest. “Do you trust me, Bailey?”
At that moment, she was certain that, whatever her past, she’d never trusted anyone more. “Yes.”
“Let’s play a game.”
Her imagination whirled into several erotic corners. “Ah…a game?”
“Word association. You empty your mind, and I’ll say a word. Whatever pops into your head first, you say it.”
“Word association.” Unsure whether to laugh or scream, she closed her eyes. “You think it’ll jog my memory.”
“It can’t hurt, but let’s just think of it as a lazy game to play in the shade. Ready?”
She nodded, kept her eyes closed and let herself be lulled by the swing of the hammock. “All right.”
“City.”
“Crowded.”
“Desert.”
“Sun.”
“Work.”
“Satisfaction.”
“Fire.”
“Blue.”
When she opened her eyes, started to shift, he snuggled her closer. “No, don’t stop and analyze, just let it come. Ready? Love.”
“Friends.” She let out a breath, found herself relaxing again. “Friends,” she repeated.
“Family.”
“Mother.” She made a small sound, and he soothed it away.
“Happy.”
“Childhood.”
“Diamond.”
“Power.”
“Lightning.”
“Murder.” She let out a choked breath and turned to bury her face against his shoulder. “I can’t do this. I can’t look there.”
“Okay, it’s all right. That’s enough.” He stroked her hair, and though his hand was gentle, his eyes were hot as they stared up through the shady canopy of leaves.
Whoever had frightened her, made her tremble with terror, was going to pay.
While Cade held Bailey under the maple trees, another stood on a stone terrace overlooking a vast estate of rolling hills, tended gardens, jetting fountains.
He was furious.
The woman had dropped off the face of the earth with his property. And his forces were as scattered as the three stars.
It should have been simple. He’d all but had them in his hands. But the bumbling fool had panicked. Or perhaps had simply become too greedy. In either case, he’d let the woman escape, and the diamonds had gone with her.
Too much time had passed, he thought, tapping his small, beautifully manicured hand on the stone railing. One woman vanished, the other on the run, and the third unable to answer his questions.
It would have to be fixed, and fixed soon. The timetable was now destroyed. There was only one person to blame for that, he mused, and stepped back into his lofty office, picked up the phone.
“Bring him to me” was all he said. He replaced the receiver with the careless arrogance of a man used to having his orders obeyed.
Chapter 6
Saturday night. He took her dancing. She’d imagined hunkering down at the kitchen table with books and a pot of strong coffee as soon as dinner was over. Instead, he swept her out of the house, before she’d finished wiping off the counters, barely giving her enough time to run a brush through her hair.
She needed a distraction, he’d told her. She needed music. She needed to experience life.
It was certainly an experience.
She’d never seen anything like it. That she knew. The noisy, crowded club in the heart of Georgetown vibrated with life, shook from floor to ceiling with voices and busy feet. The music was so loud she couldn’t hear her own thoughts, and the stingy little table Cade managed to procure for them in the middle of it all was still sticky from the last patron’s pitcher of beer.
It astonished her.
Nobody seemed to know anyone else. Or they knew each other well enough to make love standing up in public. Surely the hot, wiggling moves done body against body on the tiny dance floor were nothing less than a mating ritual.
He bought her club soda, stuck to the same harmless drink himself, and watched the show. More, he watched her watch the show.
Lights flashed, voices echoed, and no one seemed to have a care in the world.
“Is this what you usually do on the weekend?” She had to shout into his ear, and she still wasn’t certain he would hear her over the crash and din of guitars and drums.
“Now and again.” Hardly ever, he thought, studying the ebb and flow of the tide of singles at the bar. Certainly not a great deal since his college days. The idea of bringing her here had been an impulse, even an inspiration, he thought. She could hardly brood and worry under these conditions. “It’s a local group.”
“I’ve been duped?” she repeated doubtfully.
“No, no, this band is a local group.” He chuckled, scooted his chair closer to hers, slid his arm around her shoulders. “Down-and-dirty rock. No country, no soft crap, no pap. Just kick ass. What do you think?”
She struggled to think, to tune in to the hard, pulsating and repetitive rhythm. Over the driving ocean of music, the band was shouting about dirty deeds and doing them dirt-cheap.
“I don’t know, but it sure isn’t the ‘Ode to Joy.”’
He laughed at that, long and loud, before grabbing her hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”
Instant panic. Her palm went damp, her eyes grew huge. “I don’t think I know how to—”
“Hell, Bailey. There’s not enough room out there to do more than break a couple of Commandments. That doesn’t take any practice.”
“Yes, but…” He was dragging her toward the dance floor, snaking his way through tables, bumping into people. She lost count of the number of feet they must have trod on. “Cade, I’d rather just watch.”
“You’re here to experience.” He yanked her into his arms, gripped her hips in an intimate and possessive way that had her breath locking in her throat. “See? One Commandment down.” And suddenly his body was moving suggestively against hers. “The rest is easy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever done this.” The lights circling and flashing overhead made her dizzy. Giddy. “I’m sure I’d remember.”
He thought she was probably right. There was something entirely too innocent about the way she fumbled, the way the color rushed to her cheeks. He slid his hands over her bottom, up to her waist. “It’s just dancing.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve probably danced before.”
“Put your arms around me.” He levered her arms around his neck himself. “And kiss me.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
His face was close, and the music was filling her head. The heat from his body, from all the bodies pressed so close against them, was like a furnace. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and when his mouth swooped down on hers, she didn’t care.
Her head pounded with the backbeat. It was unmercifully hot, the air thick with smoke and body heat, scented with sweat and liquor and clashing perfumes. All of that faded away. She swayed against him while her lips parted for his and the strong, male essence of him filled her.
“If we’d stayed home, we’d be in bed.” He murmured it against her lips, then skimmed his mouth to her ear. She was wearing the perfume he’d bought for her. The scent of it was unreasonably intimate. “I want you in bed, Bailey. I want to be inside you.”
She closed her eyes, burrowed against him. Surely no one had said such things to her before. She couldn’t have forgotten this wild thrill, this wild fear. Her fingers slipped up into the untidy hair that waved over his collar. “Before, when I was in the kitchen, I—”
“I know.” He flicked his tongue over her ear, spread fire everyw
here. “I could have had you. Did you think I couldn’t see that?” To torment them both, he skimmed his lips along her throat. “That’s why we’re here instead of home. You’re not ready for what I need from you.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.” She thought she murmured it, but he heard her.
“Who the hell cares about sense? This is now.” He caught her chin, brought her face to his again. We’re now.” And kissed her until her blood bubbled and burst in her head. “It can be hot.” He bit her bottom lip until she was ready to sink to the floor. “Or sweet.” Then laved it tenderly with his tongue. “It can be fun.” He spun her out, then whipped her back into his arms with such casual grace that she blinked. “Whatever you want.”
Her hands were braced on his shoulders, her face was close to his. Lights revolved around them, and music throbbed. “I think…I think we’d be safer with the fun. For the time being.”
“Then let’s have it.” He whipped her out again, spun her in two fast circles. His eyes lit with amusement when she laughed.
She caught her breath as her body rammed into his again. “You’ve had lessons.”
“Sweetheart, I may have hooked cotillion more times than I want to admit, but some things stuck.”
They were moving again, somehow magically, through the thick throng of dancers. “Cotillion? Isn’t that white gloves and bow ties?”
“Something like that.” He skimmed his hands up her sides, just brushed her breasts. “And nothing like this.”
She missed a step, rapped back solidly into what she first took for a steel beam. When she glanced back, she saw what appeared to be one massive muscle with a glossy bald head, a silver nose ring and a gleaming smile.
“I beg your pardon,” she began, but found she had breath for nothing else as the muscle whirled her to the right.
She found herself jammed in the middle of a pack of dancers with enthusiastically jabbing elbows and bumping hips. They hooted at her in such a friendly manner, she tried to pick up the beat. She was giggling when she was bumped back into Cade’s arms.
“It is fun.” Elemental, liberating, nearly pagan. “I’m dancing.”
The way her face glowed, her voice rang with delighted laughter, had a grin flashing on his face. “Looks that way.”
She waved a hand in front of her face in a useless attempt to fan away the heat. “I like it.”
“Then we’ll do it again.” The volume eased down, the beat smoothed into a hum. “Here comes a slow one. Now all you have to do is plaster yourself all over me.”
“I think I already am.”
“Closer.” His leg slid intimately between hers, his hands cruised low on her hips.
“Oh, God.” Her stomach filled with frantic butterflies. “That has to be another Commandment.”