What Happened in Vegas.... Wendy Etherington
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least for two days.
Beyond that, she knew his offer to come away with him was empty. She danced in skimpy costumes for horny vacationers. She knew her place in the world. No matter what his grand ambitions had been, she’d had ambitions of her own. And they hadn’t included skipping around the world on a friend’s generosity or chasing after the next treasure.
She didn’t even consider the idea that they’d be together for longer than it took boredom to set in.
And, yet, here he was.
His appearance was unexpected and curious. Something she couldn’t set aside so easily. Because she’d begun to wonder if ambition really was a lonely and empty path? Because she’d had years to realize how special their brief moments together were? Or because the connection was just that strong?
“I only have a few minutes,” she said finally.
“That’s what you said when we got in the cab six years ago.” He leaned close. “Is tonight going to turn out the same way?”
With an ease she knew she hadn’t possessed the last time she’d seen him, she turned away. “Don’t hold your breath.”
As they walked through the outer office, Andrew was typing on his computer. “I’m going to the warehouse. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Yes, Ms. Barrett.”
God bless the man for knowing how to turn on the disinterested professionalism when necessary. More often than not, when something interesting was going on in the office, he plopped his backside on her desk and demanded that she “dish” about the news.
No doubt the dishing would come later.
After passing through several security checkpoints, both mechanical and human, Jacinda and Gideon reached the warehouse. With the upcoming auction, there were dozens of people around, checking inventory, organizing the receiving area and opening crates.
Rumor around the office said that Malle Callibro herself—after whom the auction house was named—used to walk through the warehouse every night before she left to be sure the treasures entrusted to her were safe and sound.
“Ms. Callibro built quite an empire,” Gideon commented as he looked around.
“How do you know—”
“Her name’s on the marquee out front.”
“Of course.”
And of course Gideon Nash didn’t know anything personal about somebody as high society as Malle, who’d broken rules, doing the unexpected and making her own way in the world. Jacinda figured rising from a cheap go-go club in Vegas to a prestigious auction house in Manhattan could be considered rule-breaking, too.
“She supposedly had over fifty lovers during her lifetime,” Gideon said.
“Supposedly is right. With those kinds of numbers, she’d never have had time to build her business.” She paused at the vault door guarding the auction house’s jewelry. “Which she most certainly did.”
“Personally, I prefer quality over quantity.”
“No kidding.” She smiled wanly over her shoulder at him. “I never would have guessed.”
He moved in close behind her. “You don’t consider our time together quality?”
She fought against the intimate tone of his voice, the warm, masculine scent teasing her nose. “It was…fine.”
She didn’t see, but could feel his smile. “Fine, huh?”
There was no way the words fabulous, amazing or exhilarating were coming out of her mouth. “It was just a weekend.”
“Like so many before and since?”
How had he boxed her so neatly into a corner? If she said yes, she’d look like a slut. If she said no, he’d probably display some self-satisfied smirk, as if he was the greatest lover on the planet.
As far as you know, he is.
That was beside the point.
She turned her head to meet his gaze. “We’ve both moved on,” she said neutrally. “Do you want to see the emerald?”
He drew his finger gently, slowly along her jawline. “Very much.”
“Step back.”
“Why?”
“I have to enter the code for the door.”
He stepped away and turned his back.
She entered the code, waited a moment to be sure all the laser sensors and alarms had disengaged, then pulled open the door. The moments without his stare blazing into her also allowed her time to roll her shoulders and regain her poise. She was no longer curious about why he wanted to see the jewel. She just wanted him gone.
He reminded her of a past she’d fought like crazy to forget. He tempted her. He made her think about twisted sheets and tangled limbs—a distraction she couldn’t afford.
She’d show him the gem, then hustle him out. He’d go back to chasing his pipe dreams, and she’d get back to double-checking inventory. His chaos and her order. The only way both of them would be happy.
After flipping on the lights, she walked into the small room. The walls were draped in black, lint-free fabric and the overhead spotlights simulated natural light, which showed flaws in lesser stones, but illuminated the brilliance of the superior ones. The glass display cabinets formed a U, inviting the viewer into the middle to goggle and sigh.
Gideon was right. She did bring VIP clients back here. She’d escorted five in the past week, two of whom specifically wanted to view the Veros emerald.
And though Gideon wasn’t a VIP—and she was wildly uncomfortable with him smack in the middle of her respectable new life—he would appreciate the stone as much as she did. He was one of the few people who’d actually care where it came from and what it represented.
“It’s in the corner,” she said—unnecessarily it seemed, since Gideon was already heading in that direction.
He said nothing for several moments, and Jacinda stayed behind him, anticipating he’d like to absorb the magnificent cut and clarity on his own. Even if he really had the money to bid for it, she knew she didn’t need to come up with a sales pitch. The gem’s deep greenish blue color and minimal flaws detectable by the naked eye were rare and set it apart from other emeralds in an obvious way, just as the infamous Hope diamond shined not clear like common diamonds, but with blue brilliance for the millions of tourists shuffling through the Smithsonian.
The only drawback had been the Veros gem’s setting. The staid gold-and-silver broach surrounding it crowded the light too much and didn’t highlight the emerald. After much wrangling and begging, she’d finally convinced the family that if they wanted top bids, they’d have to allow the auction house to remove the gem from the setting, so that the buyer could see the emerald from all sides and angles.
Now the stone lay unadorned on a minimal set of prongs, raised above a cushion of black cloth.
“It’s amazing,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Yes, it is.”
“I’ve seen pictures, but I never imagined…”
She smiled, understanding his awe. It reminded her that he loved beautiful things. Beautiful, expensive things. And though she’d had a decent face and a lush body when they’d first met, she’d been cheap. In appearance and profession. She’d changed all that. She used her brain instead of her body now—though she still had the lush body for someone who took the time to look beneath her conservative suits—but she still felt the tarnish of cheapness. Maybe she always would.
Shoving aside her insecurities, she said, “I have a loupe and tweezers if you’d like a closer look.”