Family Jewels (9 page)

That made his pulse jump. He imagined Cynthia’s luscious curves spread out under the hot sun, wearing nothing but tiny scraps and strings to cover the most intimate parts of her body. Being an American, he doubted if she sunbathed nude but the thought of it made his mouth water and his blood run hot.

She pulled him to her apartment door. Black-and-yellow-striped crime-scene tape with the words “Police Line—Do Not Cross” emblazoned on it still hung from the doorjamb. She ripped it down and bunched it up into a large, crinkly ball.

He held out his palm. “Give me your key.”

Cynthia didn’t hesitate. She held up the key in question and he took it from her. “Stand by the wall, away from the door.” She stepped back, eyes wide. He slipped his hand under his jacket and grabbed the butt of his gun. His heart had already shifted into high gear, prepared for any surprise. With a firm shove, he pushed the door open.

Aside from being very cold inside her apartment, it was quiet. So far, so good. A large board nailed over her window blocked out all the daylight but not the frigid air. She reached over to the wall and flipped the switch.

The lights flared on. “Damn,” she muttered behind him, rubbing her hands together. “It’s freezing in here.”

The faint sheen of black powder used for fingerprinting coated the walls and most of her furniture. Broken glass still glittered on the carpet beneath her window.

“Oh, this is just great,” she groaned, looking around with wide eyes. She placed her backpack and purse on the dining room table with care. “Do you think they could’ve cleaned up after themselves? What a freaking mess!”

A quick tour of her small apartment told Trevor nobody lurked in the closets or under her bed. Satisfied, he took a more thorough look at the place. She stood by the kitchen entry and waited for him with her arms crossed.

“Your apartment’s clear,” he confirmed. “I’m sorry you have to come home to this. Most times during an investigation, the focus is to collect evidence, not keep things tidy.”

“Yeah, well, I pay my taxes. You’d think I could get that much from it.” She hugged herself and exhaled a ragged breath. “I’m gonna look for my cat. Make yourself comfy.” She moved off down the narrow hallway and called out, “Moses? Are you in here, baby?”

Trevor took the opportunity to wander about while she went in search of her pet. He stepped inside a small bedroom that she’d transformed into a workroom dominated by a large desk. Pages of drawings fastened with tape adorned the wall, each one depicted a different ring with a large center stone inside. They were fanciful and unique designs, not the usual round band with prongs surrounding a gem that sold in countless jewelry stores in every shopping mall. No, these were creations for art, for museums. She’d colored some with markers to indicate the type of metal or stone. Behind her desk stood a small forge for melting gold or silver and an acetylene gas torch. Delicate hand tools hung from the walls or sat in an orderly fashion on shelves.

After a few more minutes of calling for her cat, Cynthia returned, her shoulders drooped with sadness and what he could only guess was fatigue. Her arms were crossed again, her face pale. He wanted to gather her close and take the shock and pain away.

“I have to call my landlord and let him know what happened, if he doesn’t know already. He’ll need to get that window fixed right away or I’ll freeze to death in here. And I should call Paul. At least leave a message for him since he’s out of the country traveling this week.”

A ping of concern knocked on Trevor’s conscience at her mention of calling this man. Trying not to sound too jealous he managed to ask, “Who’s Paul?”

Her surprised glance flew to his and softened for a moment. She smiled wearily. “He’s my brother. My fraternal twin. We’re very close, even though he lives in Chicago now. He’s an international finance lawyer and travels a lot out of the country. Lucky guy, he’s in Italy right now.”

“I see.” Trevor caressed her soft, pale cheek with his knuckles. “Why don’t you collect some of your things? Clothes and any of your supplies you want to take. You’re not staying here.”

She caught his hand from her face and held it, studying his palm, running her fingertip along his lifeline. “I, um, need to ask you something, Trevor, before we get involved any further than we are.” A deep, rosy blush stole up her neck and face as she spoke.

“You want to know if I’m married or attached?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes worried and wondering. “Yes. Are you?”

“No. My last serious relationship was more than three years ago. And what about you, Cyn? Any jealous men I need to know about?”

A lopsided grin lit her face up with a delightful mixture of mischief and eager sensuality. “Only Moses. But he’s neutered.”

“Lord, help him,” he said, wincing for drama. “But good to know.” His errant cock twitched inside his pants at the thought of her pretty mouth going down on him. “No boyfriend?”

“I broke up with my boyfriend last week as a matter of fact. Our relationship ended on mutual terms, although not amicably. Actually, it had been over for a long, long time.”

“I’m sorry.” He brought her hand up for a light, chivalric kiss. “Get your things, darling. Make your calls. While you do that, I’m going to visit the roof and look around the building. I’ll lock the door behind me and be right back.”

Her apartment door clicked shut and locked behind Trevor. Cynthia listened for his footsteps in the hall. She heard none. How could such a big man move so quietly? Had he really left to investigate the rooftop like he said? Or was he waiting to see what she was going to do next?

Cynthia tiptoed to the door, twisted the lock open and peered up and down the hallway. No sign of him. She closed and locked it again.

What had she gotten herself into? A part of her desperately wanted to trust this man. She was incredibly attracted to him, more so than she’d ever been to anyone else. He made her feverish with lust and his kisses sizzled through her body right down to the soles of her feet.

Better be careful that lust doesn
’
t override your common sense
.

Reminding herself to be careful, she walked into her studio and checked the cordless phone. No messages. She carried the phone with her to the living room to survey the damage done to her window while she called her landlord. When his answering machine picked up, she stamped her foot in frustration.

“Doesn’t anyone answer their phone anymore?” she grumbled softly before the recording ended. She left the landlord a detailed message to fix her living room window.

Then she dialed her brother’s cell phone. His answering message didn’t help her mood either. “Oh, for the love of God,” she groaned aloud. When it beeped, she took a deep breath to sound calm.

“Paul, it’s me. Now don’t panic. I, ah, had a little break-in at my apartment. I’m okay, so don’t worry. Please call me when you get this message. I’ll be staying at the downtown Hampton Hotel for a day or two. I don’t really know how long. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love ya’. Bye.”

Cynthia clicked off and halfheartedly dropped the phone onto the sofa cushion. Her gaze settled on the backpack and purse she’d left on a dining room table.

That damned diamond was in there. She had a sudden urge to examine the stone again. She picked up the backpack and walked to the bathroom for some guaranteed privacy. No telling how long Trevor would be gone.

Chapter Nine

After locking the bathroom door behind her, Cynthia rested her backpack on the edge of the sink and yanked the zipper open. She tossed yesterday’s clothing into the dirty clothes hamper standing in the corner and then lifted the black velvet jeweler’s case out.

Her case was as long as her hand and two inches wide. Carefully she pried the lid open. Snuggled safely inside were individual, thickly padded spaces called “stalls”, designed to keep gems from touching each other. A diamond could scratch a ruby, the ruby could scratch topaz—like naughty children, they had to be separated for their own good.

Filled with gems, the collection became a “stable”. It allowed her to see them all without the hassle of resorting to traditional paper packets. Beneath the bright light of her bathroom, the gems winked at her with dazzling beauty in all colors of the rainbow.

Inside their myriad facets, she saw personalities and characters waiting for a chance to be expressed through individual pieces of jewelry. It didn’t take much for her imagination to jump into high gear and begin creating a necklace for the ruby, a bracelet for the citrines, dazzling earrings for the sapphires and emeralds. Cynthia could stare at these beauties all day long, fantasizing about designs for each one.

The ring she planned to create for the design contest called for a stone of great beauty—and it didn’t reside in her collection. Her frustration from the night before resurfaced like a bad memory. Not having a clear idea yet for the ring design nagged at her.

Sighing, she carefully pried the first layer up, stuck a finger inside and wiggled the Russian white from its inner hiding place. The gem popped out into her hand, cool and hot at the same time.

Time ceased. For just a moment, the world didn’t exist. She held her breath and stared in awe at this single, blindingly beautiful gem. The diamond was such a bright white that it appeared almost blue. The facets flashed with a fire that burned from within. She plucked the diamond from her palm and held it between her thumb and forefinger.

Elemental highly compressed carbon, that’s all this stone really was.

And to think that somebody had tried to kill her for it. Why? This diamond wasn’t worth
that
much!

Then again, one hundred thousand dollars wasn’t chicken feed either.

She rolled it around in the curve of her palm for a moment, admiring the stone’s playful brilliance. Too bad Mr. Andrews hadn’t inquired about setting this rare gem into a piece of jewelry. Working with the Russian white would have been such a thrilling task. She could get goose bumps just thinking about it.

Shaking herself out of her reverie Cynthia tucked the stone back into its hiding place inside her jeweler’s case and snapped the lid shut. She set the case on the edge of the sink by her empty pack and opened her medicine cabinet. If she was going to be gone for a day or more she’d need some things.

She loaded her toothbrush, paste, hairbrush, deodorant and mascara into her pack. When she picked up the lipstick she stopped.

Uncapping the tube, she stared at the deep plum-rose color inside. Vintage Wine. The saleswoman at the Estée Lauder beauty counter had showed her how to expertly apply the rich color to her lips. She closed the mirror and leaned in close to make sure she didn’t smear it.

In the light of her bathroom, it made her mouth look dark and lush. As if she’d just kissed the red grapes used for making that wine. The only time she ever used lipstick was to dress up for a date.

Is that what you
’
re doing now
?

No. Trevor St. James was a man of the law. He was hunting down bad guys on an international assignment. She shouldn’t be thinking of him as a date. He considered her an obstacle to his investigation.

Oh but you want him
.

Hell yes! What red-blooded American woman wouldn’t want a piece of a man who talked and acted like a more rugged version of James Bond? With his heavenly body and that handsome, brooding, rebel-boy face? Definitely yes.

And it had been pretty damned obvious he wanted her too.

She reached for a tissue to blot her lips. When she leaned over, her sweater billowed out and knocked against her jeweler’s case. It slid off the edge of the sink and dropped onto the tile floor. Glittering, loose gems spilled and bounced into every corner of the bathroom, even behind the toilet.

“Shit!”

Lipstick forgotten, she went to her knees and began to gather the wayward beauties.

How could I be so fuckin
’
careless
?
Thinking about a man
,
that
’
s what I was doing
!
Stupid
,
stupid
,
stupid
.

“Cyn?” Trevor called from the hall, his voice loud but muffled behind the bathroom door. “Where are you?”

“Oh no, not yet,” she groaned. She peeked under the top layer and saw that Mr. Andrews’ diamond had not escaped like the others. She scrambled faster to reclaim her jewels, not caring to put them in rainbow order this time. “I’m in the bathroom! Be out in a minute.”

His steps sounded outside the door. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Just taking care of business.” She cringed at her choice of words. Let him think what he would, she
was
taking care of business.

She placed the jeweler’s case in her backpack and tied it shut with a firm snap. Then she leaned over the sink and took several deep breaths. He would notice if she were upset and ask why. No way could she let him know anything, or that the diamond he so reverently sought was within reach.

“Cynthia?”

She jerked back to reality. “Yes, I’m coming.”

She flushed the toilet and turned the water in the sink on for her cover-up. Taking one last deep, calming breath, she hooked her backpack over her shoulder, turned off the water, unlocked and opened the bathroom door.

Trevor waited right outside in the hall. He leaned against the wall and tucked his thumbs inside his jeans pockets. The look he gave her was both curious and raw with barely concealed sexual hunger. He lifted a dark eyebrow.

“Shall I help you pack?”

Cynthia cleared her throat and forced a smile. God help her, that sexy British voice was too enticing. She needed to keep her distance from him for a while. He could not be allowed to know she had the jeweler’s case on her body. Not until she decided exactly what to do with that diamond.

“How many days do you think it’ll be until I can return?”

“I’m not certain. How long before your landlord can replace that window for you?” He pushed away from the wall and walked toward her.

“A few days, at least. He’s not very quick about things. I left him a phone message.” She backed up a step then spun around to her bedroom.