Читать книгу Diamonds Are For Lovers: Satin & a Scandalous Affair - Yvonne Lindsay, Jan Colley - Страница 8

“Fine by me!”

Dani slammed the door on his retort and stomped up the stairs, muttering to herself.

Granted, Howard Blackstone had been no angel. His abrasive nature combined with immense wealth was the perfect enemy magnet, but that aside, he had provided a good life for her and her mother. Sonya and Dani Hammond were two of the very few people in this world who truly mourned him.

She opened the workroom door and banged that, too. Bloody man!

Sonya had moved in with Howard and her sister, Ursula, when she was twelve years old. After their firstborn was abducted, Ursula became depressed and took her own life. Howard was inconsolable so Sonya stayed on to look after her niece Kimberley and nephew Ryan. When she became pregnant, Howard persuaded her to remain and bring up her child with all the advantages his own children enjoyed. He paid for Dani’s education, and over the years, they’d forged quite an affectionate bond. Sometimes she thought he liked her better than he did his own children.

Her mother had refuted that. “He loves Kim and Ryan fiercely. He enjoys your company because he has hopes for you rather than expectations of you.”

People didn’t know the real Howard, Dani thought belligerently, tearing off her latest mishmash of a sketch. His faults were legion, but she and Sonya saw a side of him he didn’t show to many. They would always be grateful.

By unspoken mutual consent, Dani and Quinn avoided each other the next day. She needed to pinpoint a design, but every time she looked at the diamond, her ideas changed. She held it up to the light, admiring the purity, depth and distribution of colour throughout. There was a cynical old saying popular in her trade: a polished diamond is only rough ruined. How she wished to have seen this beauty before it was cut.

Dozens of pages littered the floor under the sketch pad as she pared back the initial outpouring of inspiration into a few shapes vaguely resembling a setting she might be able to work with. About the only thing she knew for sure was that the setting would be platinum because it complemented a diamond’s finest qualities so perfectly, especially fancy pinks and yellows. Dani intended the stone to be the star, not the setting.

As the hours passed, ideas rushed through her mind, most disappearing a few seconds after their arrival. She played around on the software Quinn had provided, but the solution eluded her and the beautiful diamond taunted her on its velvet pillow. Finally she took it from the display box and slid down to the floor with it in her hand, loving the milky coolness of it in her palm.

Quinn walked into the room with a plate in one hand and utensils and a wineglass in the other. He stared at her incredulously for a moment, then turned to set his load on the desk. Dani pressed back against the leg of the workbench, suddenly wondering what her hair looked like. Had she showered today or not …?

She gazed at him, thinking how seriously appealing he was. He wore pleated charcoal chinos and a light polo shirt that accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and had her peeking at his strongly muscled arms. Boat shoes, no socks. His platinum Rolex flashed as he leaned forward to switch a lamp on.

“What are you doing?” he asked, staring down at her sternly.

“Thinking. What’s it look like?”

After a pause, he nodded at the food he’d brought. “Eat.”

“What time is it?” She raised her head to peer out the window. It was dark. Where had the day gone?

“Eight.” He frowned at the sight of the uneaten sub he had brought up at lunch, the cold cup of coffee beside it.

Still holding the diamond, she uncrossed her legs and rose, drawn by the smell of the food. A twinge in her stomach reminded her she’d had little to eat today, if anything. She replaced the diamond in its box and reached for the wineglass first.

“How’s it going?”

The wine was smooth. She swallowed and opened her mouth to answer but was hijacked by a huge yawn. “‘Kay.”

It wasn’t okay yet, it was driving her nuts. Inspiration never came easy. She could spend hours or even days on an idea and toss it because of a niggling suspicion she had seen it somewhere. Originality was paramount.

His large shoe ventured out to drag a ball of screwed-up paper toward him. “What time did you work till last night?”

She shrugged, still smouldering a little from their altercation the night before. It would be better if he’d just leave her alone with her thoughts and her food.

“Eating and sleeping will be tolerated on an occasional basis.”

Had he made a joke? Emboldened, she moved closer to the food he’d brought, suddenly ravenous. “Thanks.” The wine had cleansed her palate and spiced her appetite, and she sniffed appreciatively.

“Is there a problem with your setting?” He bent to pick up the ball of paper by his shoe.

“No.” Dani picked up the fork and stabbed at a floret of bright green broccoli. “I haven’t nailed it yet, but don’t worry. I will.”

Quinn tossed the ball of paper into the trash bin. Then he moved to the easel and tilted his head at the latest sketch, one she hadn’t torn off yet. “Have the graphics I supplied been any help?”

Dani shook her head and cut into tender lamb drizzled with a sauce that tasted of paprika. Software was great for learning on, but most designers she knew preferred to work freestyle.

He moved to the desk where she sat and laid his hand on her portfolio. “May I?”

Dani stilled mid-chew. His past comments about her work still rankled. Yet here she was, staying in luxury accommodations, being catered for to her heart’s desire. Awaiting the payment of a colossal sum of money, and all for the privilege of working on an incredible diamond.

She shrugged. Whatever he thought of her stuff, he’d paid her an enormous compliment by commissioning her. Quinn Everard, the great Australian gem expert, wanted her to design for him. Not Cartier. Not JAR. Dani Hammond.

Quinn flicked the desk lamp on and stood, one hand in his pocket, the other leisurely turning the pages of the big black binder. He studied each page intently, unmoving except for his lashes dipping and rising as his eyes moved over the page. She watched under the guise of chewing and swallowing.

His shirt clung to the contours of his chest and hinted at an impressive-looking abdominal ridge or two. Fine dark hair sprinkled his forearms. The harsh light of the lamp picked out definite traces of silver in his sideburns. Mid-thirties, she guessed, with plenty of exercise to keep him toned and strong.

She tore her eyes away before he caught her, suddenly feeling way too warm. Quinn was too big for this room, too enticing and wickedly attractive.

His deep brown eyes were suddenly on her face. “These are good.”

She hadn’t realised she was holding her breath, but now it suddenly left her in a rush. “Oh. Thanks.”

“You have improved, matured.”

Improved? Matured? Don’t go overboard with the compliments, mate. “Thanks,” she sniffed, and turned back to her nearly empty plate.

“Maybe,” he continued, “you chose the wrong piece for the awards.”

“You were the only one who thought so.”

That was a lie. She had thought that, worried about it. Her entry for the Young Designer Awards was a wide gold bangle featuring pink and white Blackstone diamonds. It was supposed to capture the sweep of the outback ranges and show the riches within. Although it was a stunning piece and created comment from whoever saw it, Dani had never felt peaceful about it, never felt that she actually got it.

Quinn Everard, the judge, was the only one who had seen past the “wow” factor and found it wanting.

“Now, this …”

He flipped the pages back to where his thumb had marked the spot. She stood up and moved beside him, inhaling a warm masculinity so clean and refreshing that the air in the room was revitalised. Dani nearly swayed with the pleasure of being close to him, her fatigue from the long day washing away.

She looked down at the book. “The Keishi!” This was one of her first pieces, and still a favourite. Nineteen millimetre champagne Keishi pearls strung on white gold interspersed with gold roses, each centre a small round blue sapphire.

“This would have won you the award, just for colour and lustre alone.”

She thrummed with pleasure. “I wanted to enter it. People said it wasn’t high value enough.”

Quinn looked into her eyes and her heartbeat stuttered.

Heat bloomed inside and filled her. She couldn’t look away for the life of her. This close she picked out the fine lines at the corner of his eyes; the scar by his mouth she wanted to trace with her finger to see if it was as smooth as it looked. His eyes were dark and a little perplexed, and then he looked down at her mouth.

“Trust your instincts,” he said softly.

Oh, boy, if he only knew what her instincts were telling her now. He was so close, his breath wafted over her face. She felt her body tighten, sway slightly in his direction. The man was a magnet, her own personalised magnet. The back of her neck prickled and dampened under the rumpled hank of hair she had twisted and last looked at ten hours ago.

Ten hours ago? She stepped back hurriedly, thinking how dishevelled she must look. There was probably broccoli in her teeth, and she remembered now that she had not showered today….

Dani had her pride. She didn’t even know if she liked this man, but if succumbing to an intense attraction was an option, she would at least be clean and fragrant.

“I—I think it’s time for bed.” She groaned inwardly, thinking, You smooth talker, you. Her embarrassment was heightened by how strangely husky her voice sounded.

“It’s only eight.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth. “It’s been a long day.”

Quinn nodded, and in the process, his eyes swept over her chest and lingered long enough to tell her what she already knew, that her nipples were tight and hard, visibly so.

She didn’t dare look down. “You can take the diamond to bed,” she said weakly, then wanted to clap her hands to her head. Verbal clumsiness didn’t sneak up on her often, but she’d made the world team tonight.

Quinn’s mouth twitched.

Her cheeks stung with heat. No doubt his “lady friend” would be so much more sophisticated, never a hair out of place or a word out of turn.

“You look hot, Dani,” Quinn said smoothly, and there was no mistaking his amusement.

She cleared her throat. “You could check the air-con in here. These lights really raise the temperature.”

“They do, don’t they?”

She’d made enough of a fool of herself. “Good night.” She escaped without waiting for his response.

Quinn let his head roll back and stared at the bright lights on the ceiling. “Control yourself,” he muttered, his weakness taunting him. Had she noticed his arousal? He’d sure noticed hers! The sexual charge he got just from being in the same room was beyond a joke, and he was toast once he clapped eyes on her chest.

So despite her snippiness, the lady was interested.

That added a new dimension to the proceedings. He’d not so much as touched her, but he knew instinctively that they were sexually compatible, or more aptly, explosively combustible!

Interesting … He looked down at her empty plate, remembering why he’d come up here in the first place. Quinn was tired of his own company, bored eating alone—which was weird since he was used to it. Preferred it, in fact. His life was a never-ending roundabout of fancy dinners in up-market restaurants, with the added non-bonus of countless airline meals.

But his apartment in Sydney was ordered and peaceful. To his mind, a cheese sandwich in front of the wall-to-ceiling windows that showcased the most beautiful city in the world was far more enjoyable than any two-hundred-dollar meal he had ever eaten.

A throwback, he supposed, to the chaotic mealtimes at home when he was a kid.

Quinn grew up with loving but eccentric parents who filled their huge old Sydney home to overflowing with troubled foster kids. He shared everything as a boy: his parents’ love and time, his room, toys, even his wife, who moved in while they were at university. She was studying to be a social worker and loved helping out with the kids. Quinn shared her right up to the day she died of a brain tumour, aged twenty-six.

These days, he didn’t share so much anymore, but still loved his parents dearly. Although he wished they didn’t keep asking him when he was going to get around to giving them grandkids. Quinn’s response hadn’t changed since he was twenty: “I learned growing up that there are too many unwanted kids in the world.”

He picked up the boxed diamond and took it to his room to lock away. Then he collected her empty plate and the food he’d brought at lunch. His phone rang as he descended the stairs. Matt Hammond calling from New Zealand.

He’d met Matt before since they were both shareholders of several different companies, including Blackstone Diamonds.

“Can we meet up in the next week?” Matt asked. “Among other things, I’d like to thank you properly for bringing the pink diamonds home.”

Last month, Quinn had authenticated four pink diamonds for Matt’s former sister-in-law, Melbourne supermodel, Briana Davenport. Briana found them in her apartment safe after her sister Marise was killed in the plane crash. Quinn was astonished to find they were from the Blackstone Rose necklace, stolen from Howard nearly three decades ago. He told Briana they must be returned to their rightful owner. At her request, he’d delivered the stones to Howard Blackstone’s estate lawyers.

It was well publicised that Howard’s will had been altered shortly before the crash to bestow his jewellery collection to Marise. Quinn was less clear on whether the stolen necklace would be included in the jewellery collection, since it was not specifically named and still listed as stolen. He had to be sure he was not acting illegally. It would pan out better for Briana, his client, that way.

After deliberation, the lawyers declared that the Blackstone Rose necklace was included in the jewellery collection. Since Marise hadn’t changed her will before the accident, the pink diamonds now belonged to her spouse, Matt Hammond.

“I’m holidaying in Port Douglas for the next couple of weeks,” Quinn told Matt now.

“You’re kidding! I’m coming up there myself in the next couple of days. We can catch up then, if you’re agreeable.”

Quinn wondered if Matt was coming to Port Douglas to see Dani. They were cousins, but from what he’d heard, the rift between the Blackstones and the Hammonds included both Dani and her mother, Sonya.

“In the meantime,” Matt continued, “I’d like you to put the word out. I’m willing to ask no questions and pay top dollar for the fifth Blackstone Rose diamond, the big one.”

The centrepiece of the old necklace was a pear-shaped 9.7 carat diamond. The original Heart of the Outback stone was just over one hundred carats in the rough. Stones lost a lot of weight in the cutting, especially if the cutter wanted several diamonds from the one stone. Some cutters went for weight, which did not necessarily correlate to value; fire and brilliance came from the shape the cutter chose.

In this case, the cutter had done a masterful job, realising a creditable thirty-eight carats in total. This, along with the name and the legend, accorded the stones a massive price tag. The last big intense pink Quinn could recall coming up for auction several years ago—an unnamed twenty carat, pear-shaped beauty—fetched six million dollars. The Blackstone Rose diamonds could sell for as much as half a million dollars per carat, more if they were sold together.

Although laser identification wasn’t around when the stones were cut, the Blackstone Rose’s thief must have sold the big stone on the black market for it to have disappeared without a trace. Quinn had extensive connections, and there was always someone who could be persuaded to sell information about less-reputable art and gem collectors. A pink of this size would cause comment wherever it turned up.

Quinn hung up, thinking that his whole existence lately—professional and personal—seemed to be tied up with the Blackstone and Hammond families. First Matt and the pink diamonds, now his enforced cohabitation with Danielle Hammond. His very personal existence stirred again when he recalled the desire in her eyes a few minutes ago, heard the huskiness of her voice. He knew that he was destined to spend another night alone in his bed, dreaming about her intriguing face and lithe body.

He would have Dani Hammond, he decided. It would help while away the hours in this sauna until he could return to civilisation.

He grinned as he stripped and slid between the sheets, allowing himself the uncharitable thought that tupping Howard Blackstone’s little girl would be like thumbing his nose at the old man, dead or not. That would be twice in a month he’d shafted the old goat. Howard must have turned in his freshly dug grave when the Blackstone Rose diamonds came full circle to a Hammond again.