CHAPTER ONE
Okay, I admit it. I would rather be the proud possessor of a rare gemstone than a lakefront condo with parking. Yes, I know this makes me weird. Young women today are supposed to crave the security of owning their own home.
But I say, Real estate, shmeel estate. You canât hold an address in your hand. It doesnât flash and sparkle with the intensity of a thousand night stars. It will never lure you away from the straight and narrow like a siren from some Greek odyssey.
Letâs face it. Nobody has ever gone to jail for smuggling a one-bedroom-plus-den out of the country.
However, make that a ten-carat cyan-blue topaz with a past as long as your arm, and Iâd do almost anything to possess it.
But donât tell the police.
* * *
Pete was sitting in my back office at Ricci Jewelers, poring over a tray of diamonds. Really nice diamonds. You could buy a whole condo building with those rocks.
âI like the big pear-shaped one. How much does that cost?â
âToo much,â I said. âIâd be afraid to wear it. Might get mugged, you know?â
Pete looked over at me and raised one eyebrow. âBy your own family?â
I grimaced. He had me on that one. Who was likely to mug the goddaughter of the local crime boss?
I sighed. âItâs still too much.â I swished a stray lock of hair behind my shoulder.
Pete pushed back from the table. He leaned back in the chair. His big hands went behind his head and linked there. I felt the familiar zing as his hazel eyes met mine.
âYou know, this is rather like taking coals to Newcastle. You can buy any ring you want in your own store. Maybe I should buy you a car as an engagement gift.â
I smiled at the quaint expression, then shook my head. âNo sir, youâre not getting out of this. Aunt Miriam always says youâre not engaged until youâve got the ring. So choose something, buster.â
He smiled back and his eyes twinkled. âYou choose something, gorgeous. We should do this together. Your budget is thirty thousand.â
My jaw dropped. âHoly cannoli, Peteâhow much do newspaper reporters make?â
A faint knock at the door made us both turn. It was Tiffany, my shop assistant. Her goth getup was somewhat alarming to many customers. Her face right now was even more alarming, and I donât mean from the piercings.
I signaled to her. She used her key to unlock the door.
âSorry to interrupt,â she said, âbut you really need to see this.â
She motioned toward the retail end of the store.
I stood up, grabbed my keys and walked around the desk. âCome see me in action,â I said with a smile.
âIâd like to, but I really have to get back. Got a deadline.â Pete sprang easily from the chair to his full six-foot-two height. I love to watch him move. He used to be a quarterback and has that perfect combination of strength and grace. Unusual in a big guy.
Pete turned around at the door. âYou like the pear shape, right?â
âOh yeah,â I said. Who doesnât?
âHow much is the big pear-shaped one?â
I met his eyes. They were smiling, just like his mouth.
âTwenty-four thousand,â I said.
âSold,â he said. Then he grabbed me before I could pass through the door.
* * *
A minute or so later, Pete put me down. I was breathless. He waited for me to pass through the doorway and then shut the door behind us. It locked automatically. Then he continued out the store to the street beyond. I had to stop myself from running to the window to watch as he sauntered out of sight.
Instead, I drew my eyes back to the waiting customer.
An ultra-slim woman with shellacked red hair stood at the counter.
âGood morning, Mrs. Harris. How can I help you?â I said.
She smiled nervously. âThe stone in my ring is a little loose. Can you fix it?â
âOf course,â I said. A perfectly normal