by Cassie Miles
Since Tasha’s panty hose were already ruined, she walked barefoot and comfortable along the sidewalk. When David fell into step beside her, she realized that he was wearing a tux. He’d been handsome in a sports jacket. In the tuxedo, he was breathtaking. “Nice suit,” she said. “Typical bodyguard clothes?”
“Actually, yes. I need to be able to blend in at all sorts of social occasions, including black tie.”
“Sure,” she said. As if somebody as outrageously gorgeous as David could ever blend in. That was like saying Arnold Schwarzenegger wouldn’t be noticed at a librarian’s conference, like saying that an Elvis impersonator blended into an accountant’s office.
When she unlocked the rear door to her shop, he again reached around her and grasped the knob. This time, she didn’t object when he went first. Almost docile, she followed him inside and turned on the lights beside the door.
She glanced up at him. He really did look great in his tux with the snowy white shirt. “I never did thank you for this afternoon. I could have been hurt.”
He gave her a little salute. “Just doing my job.”
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The little shop, heady with the scent of flowers, felt intimate. The most natural thing in the world, Tasha thought, would have been to glide into his embrace, to cling to him and let all her fear and anger drift away. Let him protect me. But she still didn’t know enough about him. Tasha made it a rule not to grant her trust too easily.
She broke eye contact and turned away from him. “I’m going into my office to change my panty hose.”
“I’ll be here.”
Finally, he thought as he watched the subtle roll of her hips. Finally, she was beginning to accept that she was in danger. Tasha was one stubborn woman. It took a Russian with a gun to convince her, but finally she knew. She needed a bodyguard. She needed him.
Somehow, that fact gratified him more than it should have. David knew better than to become personally involved with his clients, but he’d never been confronted with an assignment like this one. Tasha Lancer appeared to be an average person who didn’t have a clue as to why she might be in danger. And yet, she had managed to escape from an armed man. That confrontation had barely ruffled her pretty little feathers. Therefore, he could assume, she wasn’t quite as innocent as she pretended to be. She’d been in danger before. From whom? Why?
He really didn’t expect her to look him in the eye and tell him what was going on. This lady had secrets.
But he’d find them out. As a trained observer of human nature, with a master’s degree in sociology from Yale, David sought answers in inference, not fact. Thus far, he’d only spoken to Mandy, her assistant, who idolized her employer and was appropriately grateful for the job. Tasha had hired her at a decent salary when no one else would. Tasha was more concerned about Mandy’s well-being than her own mother who was embarrassed by her daughter’s pregnancy.
And what did that say about Tasha? Was she merely a good-hearted person who was willing to help out a teenager in distress? Or did she have a special reason for empathy? Her teen years had been rocky. From the short dossier on her, he knew that she’d run away from home when she was fifteen. She’d been to Europe, returned to Denver. She’d never been arrested. Never married. She had attended art school, off and on, for three years.
She emerged from her office wearing her high heels and carrying a sketch pad and charcoals.
“I’m curious,” he said. “How did you manage to escape from the man with the gun?”
“Opium.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Opium cologne. I sprayed it in his face and took off running.”
She perched on a stool behind the counter and began to draw. In a few swift strokes, she’d captured the shape of the face. Her hands were quick. Her concentration intense.
Almost obsessive, he thought. When she focused on her creative work, there was nothing else in the world. Would she notice if he reached out and stroked the tendrils that curled at the nape of her long, slender neck? He wondered if she’d hear his words if he whispered in her ear, if she’d look up when he bit the tender lobe.
Her honest concentration appealed greatly to him. But all those secrets warned him away.
In minutes, she completed a detailed sketch of a grotesquely skinny man with thin, black hair pasted across a high forehead. His features included hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. The space between his nostrils and his upper lip was extremely long.
“Height?” David asked.
“Five foot eight or five foot nine.”
“Age?”
“That’s a tough one. He looked like he’d been ill, like he’d had a hard life. He could have been anywhere between thirty-five and fifty.” She cocked her head to one side as she remembered. “But he wasn’t dressed like a bum. He had on a long, dark gray trenchcoat. It wasn’t stylish, but it was quality. Know what I mean?”
David nodded.
She hopped down from the stool. “Let me wash off my hands, then we can go to the party. Is there anything special I should do? I’ve never had my own bodyguard before.”
“Let’s not alert everyone to my occupation. There seems to be a mystery to why someone would be after you, and it might be easier to figure out if they don’t know you’re under my protection.”
“That suits me just fine,” she said.
She hadn’t been looking forward to explaining why she needed a personal bodyguard. Also, she thought, a bodyguard might scare off potential customers for Bloom’s.
At a wall sink beside the refrigerated unit, she rinsed the charcoal off her fingers and dried them carefully with an absorbent paper towel to prevent chafing.
“Tell people that I’m an old boyfriend,” David said.
“We’ll need more of a cover story than that. Women are curious. They’ll want to know who I’m dating.” She pulled on her long hot-pink gloves. “Janet Pola was all over you like a spandex leotard this afternoon.”
“Let’s stick as close to the truth as possible. Say that I’m visiting from New York. My occupation is psychology, private practice in Manhattan. I attended Yale.”
“You did?”
His eyebrows raised. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, it’s just that I think of bodyguards as attending the School of Hard Knocks.”
“I try not to be a thug,” he said, offering her his elbow. “Shall we go?”
She rested her gloved hand on his arm. It felt classy to be escorted for a change. She liked being near him. Physical contact was…reassuring. “Is there anything else I should do? Keep my back to the wall? Don’t drink the wine until you’ve tasted it first?”
“Just circulate as you usually would. Let me know a few moments before you plan to leave.”
“I’d do that anyway, boyfriend.”
“I’m sure you would, girlfriend.”
His easygoing grin was his best feature, she thought. His whole face lit up. His gray eyes twinkled. He had light, endearing laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.
There was no fanfare when she and David entered Pola and Tweed, but Tasha sensed that people were looking. She and David were different, not part of the regular crowd. And, Tasha thought with justifiable conceit, they made a striking couple. She felt more beautiful and glamorous than she ever had in her life.
The interior of Pola and Tweed had been transformed for this occasion. The silky drapes, suggesting the tent of a desert sheikh, added a touch of decadence. Almost everyone was beautifully dressed, except for the two armed guards that stood at the front door and the two others who flanked a central display case that was draped with a black cloth.
At each of the glass display cases, an employee was posted to assist with showing the jewelry, and Tasha decided to indulge herself. Still holding David’s arm, she went to a long case and scanned the contents.
“Hi, Tasha,” said the clerk.
Tasha introdu
ced David as an old boyfriend from New York, and the clerk brightened. “Looking for a diamond ring?”
“I wouldn’t let him off that cheap,” Tasha said. She pointed to a necklace that had caught her eye on several other visits to the store. “Let’s see that one.”
“You’re incredible,” the clerk said. “That’s the most expensive piece in the store, apart from the Sheikh’s Rubies, of course. Blue diamonds, set in silver.”
“From the De Beers mines?” Tasha asked, though she knew the answer. Quality stones like this had to be from South Africa.
“Yes.”
“May I?” Tasha picked up a loupe and studied the stones. “Remarkable. Almost flawless. The design is, however, modern. I’d guess that the jewelsmith was Carole Tannenbaum.”
“Right, again. You know a lot about gems.”
“My mother had an incredible collection.”
She stripped off her glove to feel the stones against her skin. Jewelry was a sensual experience for her. The coolness of the stones absorbed her body heat and warmed, glowed from within with an incandescent light. Tasha allowed the necklace to slide through her fingers. The shimmer was more perfect than a waterfall.
Her heart was beating fast. Her throat felt dry as the Sahara. “Beautiful,” was all she could say.
But she wasn’t here to fondle the jewelry. She handed the necklace back to the clerk. “So, who are some of the important people I should meet here? People who need flowers.”
“The woman in the green silk suit has a daughter getting married next year. The tall man wearing cowboy boots with his tuxedo organizes the debutante ball in the spring. The priest is Father Gregory, and I’m sure he’d love to have flower donations.”
Tasha nodded her thanks and turned to David. “Okay, let’s mingle.”
The only people she was acquainted with at this event were other Cherry Creek merchants, and they were generous in sharing their contacts. She found herself passing out business cards right and left. Coming to this party was a great idea! If only half of the people who said they were interested gave her a call, she’d have to hire another full-time designer.
At half past eight, Janet Pola called for attention. She had dressed for this occasion in formfitting silver with tons of sequins that emphasized her heaving-bosom. Her hair was so massive that it almost took on a life of its own. Janet might have been ridiculous, Tasha thought, if she hadn’t been so wholeheartedly enthusiastic. Her premier showing was a total success, and she deserved this opportunity to preen.
Janet’s high-pitched voice trilled above the general hubbub. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am privileged to present the Sheikh’s Rubies.”
Conversations stilled. Everyone moved in a circle around the central’display case. Tasha was fortunate to be in the front row.
Janet claimed their attention, and she continued, only slightly less shrill. “This legendary necklace and bracelet set is touring the country under the auspices of the International Jeweler’s Association. It will not be for sale until the end of the tour when IJA will conduct a closed auction via conference call. If you are interested in the bidding, please let me know.”
“What’s the floor bid?” asked the tall man in cowboy boots.
“One million, nine.” Janet reached for the black drape, then lowered her hand, allowing the suspense to build. “Let me tell you a bit of the legend of these jewels. The rubies came from Siam, nearly two hundred years ago. They were set in this elaborate golden necklace and bracelets by an anonymous, genius jewelsmith in the Middle East and were delivered to the palace of Sheikh Hajib Sahad who maintained a harem that sometimes numbered over one hundred. The sheikh would present these rubies to his favored wife. The drawback was that if the wife fell from his good graces, she would not only sacrifice the jewelry but also her life.”
Janet paused dramatically. Her voice dropped as low as it could go. “They say that the red of the rubies was deepened by the blood of twelve beautiful women.”
Tasha felt her anticipation growing. She couldn’t wait to see the rubies. Of course, no one would be allowed to touch them. But the vision alone should be incredible.
Janet continued, “Finally, the aging sheikh fell deeply in love with a young woman, Aziza. Some said she was a sorceress who enchanted him. His dying wish was that she keep the rubies for all eternity. And she did. She escaped her country with a fortune in other jewels and lived in Paris for a time.
“The rubies have passed through the hands of royalty and noblewomen. They are reputed to bring good luck to a favored lady who is beloved by a powerful man. Otherwise, misfortune.”
Dramatically, the lights in the shop dimmed. Tasha could feel David standing very near to her. Track lighting made spotlights shine on the black draped case.
Janet whipped off the veil. The rubies were displayed against a creamy satin drape. As Tasha gazed upon them, she held her breath. Magically, she was transported to a different place and time. Her ears rang with the wail of desert winds. Her eyes scorched. Fire from the deep red stone leapt into her soul. Her fingers itched. Desperately, she wanted to hold the necklace, to feel the weight of it against her throat.
When the lights came up, she had to look away.
“Are you all right?” David asked.
“The gems. They’re so magnificent.” She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and fanned herself with her pink-gloved hand. “Seems hot in here. Could we step outside?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll go first.”
Her reaction to the Sheikh’s Rubies intrigued him. She’d flushed when she looked upon them. Her eyes misted. Even now, when she placed her hand on his arm, he felt a tremor in her fingertips. Her yearning was so ferocious that he could feel it, and he wondered if her visceral attraction to precious gems had anything to do with the danger.
He was about to ask her how and why she knew so much about jewelry when Janet came up to them outside. Though David was trying to like this woman, she reminded him of an overinflated Kewpie doll. She was bubbling with excitement, almost squeaking. “Isn’t this wonderful! I had my doubts, but it’s all turned out so very well.”
“It’s fantastic,” Tasha said with honest enthusiasm. “It’s a great crowd, and your presentation was marvelous.”
“Not too fanciful?”
“You were perfect,” David lied gallantly.
“Thank you.” She batted her eyelashes at him, then turned her head. “Oh, here’s someone interesting for you two to meet. Yoo-hoo!”
She called to a heavy-set gentleman in a black suit, and he joined them. David thought his eyes lit up when he spotted Tasha. He stared rudely at her while Janet made the introductions.
“This is Inspector George Henning of Scotland Yard,” Janet said. “He’s accompanying the Sheikh’s Rubies on their tour, and he’s world renowned for nabbing jewel thieves.”
She beamed at him. “Inspector, I’d like you to meet the young lady who has the shop next door to mine.”
He clasped Tasha’s hand. “I know Miss Lancer very well. Very well, indeed.”
Chapter Three
David’s protective instincts cranked into high gear when Inspector Henning gripped Tasha’s hand. This wasn’t a friendly handshake. Despite the inspector’s round, cherubic face and curling gray hair, his mouth had a cruel twist. His features sharpened as he gazed at Tasha. His blue eyes, set in a ruddy complexion, were cold as ice.
“I haven’t seen you for quite some time, Miss Lancer.” He spoke in a British accent, tinged with a Scot’s burr that rolled his r’s. “Not since the SoHo affair. That was—let me think now—that must have been four years ago.”
“You’re mistaken,” Tasha said.
She matched his ice with a frosty disdain. She was less than half his girth and, even in her high heels, she was much shorter than the inspector. Yet she managed to tilt her head in such a way that she appeared to be looking down at him. David would have been amused by her trick if he hadn’t caught the undercurre
nt of real, possibly dangerous, hostility between them.
“The last time I saw you was in Miami,” Tasha corrected. “And that was six years ago. I remember because it was one day after my twenty-first birthday.”
“And what a birthday present you gave yourself. An emerald tiara, wasn’t it? Quite a remarkable piece of antique jewelry.”
“I was there to sell the tiara, not to acquire,” she said. “It belonged to my mother.”
“And it went so nicely with those emerald earrings.”
Janet Pola, like David, stood at the fringe of this brittle confrontation. Janet, however, was so wrapped up in the excitement of her premier showing that she was oblivious to the uneasy tension between Tasha and the inspector. She spied another acquaintance, trilled a farewell and flitted away from them like a weird silver bird with big hair.
“Inspector, this is David Marquis,” Tasha said.
David nodded but did not extend his hand. The ritual of handshaking was one that bodyguards avoided. His job was to be alert, not congenial.
The inspector sized him up in a glance. “You must be her new beau. I warn you, this young lady has broken many hearts in her day.”
“I’ll be careful,” David said. He wondered if the inspector numbered himself among those whose hearts had been broken. His antipathy toward Tasha had a distinctly personal edge, almost like that of a jilted lover.
Inspector Henning scowled at him. “Tell me, David. Do you have a permit for that gun you’re carrying?”
“Yes, sir. I do.” Interesting, David thought. His tuxedo was tailored to conceal the bulge of his shoulder holster, and he doubted that anyone else at the party had noticed that he was armed. But the inspector was, of course, from Scotland Yard. He was a professional.
“One should always stay on the right side of the law.” The inspector turned his attention back to Tasha. “Shouldn’t one?”
“Absolutely.”
“Quite a temptation for you, Miss Lancer. Having your shop right next door to the Sheikh’s Rubies.”
“Not at all,” she said.
“Come now, my dear lady. Wouldn’t you like to touch them? Wouldn’t you like to wear the necklace around your throat like the bewitching Aziza, favored wife of the sheikh?”
