Christmas Male(36)

Charity’s gaze remained fixed on the necklace. “Neither will I.”

“I can’t imagine how relieved you must feel that it didn’t disappear forever.”

“But it will disappear.” Charity’s rapt expression was replaced with annoyance when the woman turned to face her. “Tomorrow at closing time, it will go back to the private collection of Gregory Shalnokov.”



D.C. WATCHED FIONA, unable to redirect his gaze, until the Rubinov was no longer between them. As their eyes had locked over the diamond, his mind had once again been wiped clean. The crowd, the chatter of voices had faded, even the voice of the man at his side—everything had disappeared. For that small stretch of time, he’d lost track of himself, of where he was or why he’d come here. There’d only been Fiona.

He should be getting used to the effect she had on him. She fascinated him, enchanted him in a way no other woman ever had—or ever would. In a way, she was as intriguing a puzzle as the case they were working on. And she was finally beginning to open up to him, revealing pieces of herself. But it wasn’t enough.

Oh, he was beginning to get a clear enough picture of the loneliness of her childhood. When he compared it to his own, to the family who had always surrounded him and supported him, his heart twisted for her. He could understand why she’d built up walls. Just as he was beginning to understand why Christmas wasn’t her favorite holiday. He had some ideas about changing that. And there was more she could tell him, more he wanted her to share—until every last barrier between them was broken down.

She’d gotten to him. No, more than that, she’d gotten inside of him. He’d known her what…? Less than twenty-four hours, and she’d invaded his system.

What had happened in that small apartment when he’d made love to her still baffled him. As much as he prided himself on being able to improvise, taking a woman up against a fireplace wasn’t his usual style. Not that he was sorry he’d done it.

No, what bothered him was the fact that he simply hadn’t been able to wait. The sense of urgency she aroused in him every time he touched her was unprecedented. And having her should have sated his desire for her. At least temporarily. But in the hour he’d spent away from her, he hadn’t been able to keep her from slipping into his thoughts.

Without any conscious intention on his part, his gaze dropped to the blue diamond. He thought again of the legend. Fiona might not buy into it, but he wasn’t sure it could be so easily dismissed. He’d traveled enough, seen enough things to respect the power places and objects could possess—especially when people bought into them. Many of the men who’d served under him had worn a talisman—a medal, a photo of a loved one—and credited it with saving their lives.

For his own part, he was much more likely to believe that the blue stone had the power to elicit obsession, greed and death than love.

“You all right?”

D.C. dragged his attention back to Bobby Grant. Lucky for D.C., the security guard had been stationed at the entrance so he hadn’t had to wait in line.

D.C. inclined his head toward Fiona and the blonde. “How come they get to be up close and personal with the diamond?”

Bobby grinned slowly. “I guess you ain’t been watchin’ the news. There’s a TV in our break room that runs 24/7. Ever since this morning, all the media are talking about is the attempted theft of the Rubinov. The good-looking brunette is the cop assigned to the case, and the blonde is Charity Watkins. She’s director of the gallery’s special exhibits.”

D.C. kept his eyes on Fiona as Watkins led the way to the service door at the back of the room. He recognized the other woman immediately. The long swing of blond hair was hard to miss. She’d been the one who’d drawn his mother’s attention as they’d left the National Gallery yesterday.

“I suppose Ms. Watkins is taking a lot of heat for the theft?”

Bobby shrugged. “Can’t say. But there’s a lot of pressure on the people heading up security. They’re doubling the number of guards on all shifts.”

“You were on duty at closing time yesterday, right? Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”

Bobby shook his head. “I been asked that question by the insurance investigator and by my supervisor. We did what we always do. We checked to make sure the room was empty, turned out the lights and then locked up.”

“I assume that there’s some lag between the time the exhibits shut down and the gallery clears.”

“About half an hour.”

“Any details stand out in your mind about yesterday?”