D I A M O N D S ~ D O W N U N D E R

The pink flower on the home page is © Photographer: Brent Hathaway | Agency: Dreamstime.com

The solitaire pink diamond is © Photographer: Infomages | Agency: Dreamstime.com

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Chapter One

Kimberley Blackstone's long stride -- and the Louis Vuitton suitcase she towed in her wake -- gathered momentum as she left customs at Auckland's airport and headed toward the exit. Despite the handicap of her three-inch heels, she hit the arrivals' hall at a near jog, her focus on grabbing the first taxi in the rank outside, her mind making the transition from laidback holiday mode to all that awaited her at House of Hammond on her first workday after the Christmas-New Year break.

She didn't notice the waiting horde of media until it was too late. Flashbulbs exploded around her like a New Year's lightshow. She skidded to a halt, so abruptly her trailing suitcase rammed into her legs. This had to be a case of mistaken identity.

Surely.

Vows & A Vengeful Groom ~ Bronwyn Jameson

Chapter One

"It's time to wake, sleeping beauty." The voice was deep, dark and achingly familiar.

Jessica Cotter's eyelashes fluttered in response. A masculine hand cupped her shoulder and stroked her skin. Her lover's touch. Warm and secure under the down duvet, Jessica gave a small moan of contentment and snuggled deeper under the bedclothes.

"Wake up, Jess."

Even through the mist of sleep she sensed him coming closer, bending over her. Instead of kissing her, he pulled the covers back. Screwing her eyes tightly shut to resist the onset of the day, Jessica curled into a ball and murmured a protest.

Then she caught his scent. One hundred percent pure male. Turn-on sexy. A hint of the heat they'd shared in the dark of the night still clung to the air. The protest became a soft moan. She shifted against the sleek satin sheet, stretched a little. Her body arching toward him, her eyes still closed, she waited for his touch.

His fingers tightened on her flesh. This time he gave her shoulder a little shake.

"Get up, Jessica!"

Pride & A Pregnancy Secret ~ Tessa Radley

She opened her eyes. It took a moment to get her bearings. Ryan Blackstone's penthouse.

The morning of his father's funeral.

Howard Blackstone's funeral. Little wonder Ryan wasn't in the mood for—

"Wipe that. You don't need to get up yet." He interrupted her thoughts. "I'll shower first. I need to get moving. Take your time."

Jessica sat up, wide awake now, and reached for the covers intent on hiding her suddenly inappropriate nakedness. She need not have worried. Ryan was already turning away.

She collapsed back against the pile of pillows and felt a hollow heaviness filling the pit of her stomach. The sound of the shower hissed in the bathroom. A sideways glance at the clock on the bedside table revealed that it was much later than it should be…. Damn, she'd overslept.

They both had.

The running water stopped. Jessica didn't move. She waited. The bathroom door opened and Ryan emerged, towelling his dark hair, surrounded by steam billowing out of the bathroom behind him.

He was utterly, unashamedly naked. His wide chest bare, his narrow hips lean. The most gorgeous male she'd ever known. Jessica watched furtively from under her lashes as he glanced at the Seamaster on his wrist, made an impatient sound and headed for the walk-in closet.

She closed her eyes.

God, this was going to be difficult. "Are you asleep again?" Even with the hint of impatience, his voice was deep, a sexy rasp that never failed to ignite her senses.

Her eyelids flicked open. Immaculately dressed in a dark suit that contrasted with the crisp white cotton shirts he preferred in Sydney's February heat, he was picking his way through the clothing they'd torn off last night and dropped on the floor. Jessica felt herself flush at the memory. He must've read something in her face because his eyes darkened with secret knowledge and he came toward her. He reached the bed and bent over her, planting a muscled arm on either side of her, and his eyes softened.

"You are the most tempting woman in the world," he murmured.

He smelled clean and fresh - of soap and man. "And you're easily tempted?"

"I could stay here the whole day."

His words cast a shadow over her thoughts. So much would happen today. Howard Blackstone's funeral… the will reading… the discussion she needed to have with Ryan. Yet, despite everything hanging over her, he was irresistible.

One last kiss. That's all, she promised herself. Jessica threaded her arms around his neck and tugged.

"Hey." He landed on the bed beside her, his face so close to hers she could see the jade hue of his irises, the verdant richness that never failed to set her heart pounding. His jaw was tanned and smoothly shaven, his features strong and bold.

His hand stroked a tendril of hair out of her eyes. "You look tired. Pale. There are shadows under your eyes this morning. I shouldn't have kept you up so late."

"No problem." She forced a smile to conceal her worry about him. Their predawn lovemaking had held a certain desperation. The disappearance of his father's jet and the subsequent recovery of Howard Blackstone's body had blighted Ryan. On her part, the desperation came from other causes… a sense of time running out.

Irrevocably.

She changed the subject. "You're meeting Ric before the funeral, aren't you?"

At the mention of Ric Perrini, interim chairman of Blackstone Diamonds and his sister's husband, Ryan's mouth tightened into a hard line. "No. I'll have plenty of time to talk to him afterwards."

Jessica hesitated, then said softly, "Today is going to be hard on Kimberley as well." Ryan's sister had returned to Australia after her father's death having spent the previous ten years working for Matt Hammond, the son of Howard Blackstone's most bitter enemy - his brother-in-law, Oliver.

"I know."

Jessica almost said, "Go easy on her," but bit the words back at the last minute.

Ryan wouldn't want her counsel. She was only his lover, after all, not his wife.

Heck, she was less than his lover - she was the secret mistress that no one was supposed to know about. With a touch of dark humour Jessica wondered what people would say if they knew that the cool blonde who ran Blackstone Jewellery's Sydney store in the day came apart in the boss's arms under the dark cloak of night.

Shock. Horror. A Blackstone sleeping with a lowly member of staff? A mechanic's daughter living with a groomed-for-greatness millionaire?

A hand stroked her hair. "You know what I want more than anything in the world?"

Ryan's voice was soft, mesmerizing. For a moment Jessica wished that the world outside these walls - the Blackstone family, Blackstone Diamonds and public expectations - could melt away. That there was only them: Jessica and Ryan. That she could curl up in his arms and never leave.

If only…

"What do you want?"

"To climb into that big bed beside you, kiss you here-" he pushed aside the cover a fraction of an inch and touched the soft skin at the base of her throat "-and celebrate life, rather than death."

He matched his actions to his words. The kiss landed on target. Jessica swallowed, her throat moving convulsively under his mouth. Then his lips moved up along her neck and landed on her mouth.

Jessica moaned.

"Open your mouth, honey, I need you."

There was a desperation she'd never heard from Ryan before. Obediently her lips parted. His mouth plundered the softness, his tongue exploring the inside of her sensitive bottom lip. Jessica moved restlessly, her arms tightening around his neck to a stranglehold. She did not want to let him go. Ryan was breathing hard when he lifted his head, and his eyes were wild.

"God, I could stay here all day. What an easy way out." His head dipped again.

The kiss was frantic and Jessica ached for him. His desire to take the easy way out, to escape, hammered home how much he dreaded the coming day. The funeral was the final proof that his father was gone. Forever. She rubbed her hands along his shoulders, wishing she could take the hurt, the pain, away from him.

He pulled back. "See how responsive your body is?" Ryan slipped a hand under the cover. "Your breasts have swollen already. I noticed last night how taut they are."

Jessica went cold.

She grabbed his wrist to stop his hand moving toward the curve of her belly. She hadn't seen any change in her body yet. Only felt the warning signs. "We haven't got time for this." Rolling away from his touch, she said, "You better get going or you'll be late."

"And you better get up, too."

"I will." She gave him a weak smile. "As soon as you're gone."

He blew out hard and raked the fingers of both hands through his hair. "I suppose it's better that way. Once you get up and start dressing I'll never get out of here. But first…"

He bent forward and placed his lips against hers for a long, lingering moment. It was a gentle kiss. Tender. A sharp contrast to the desperate passion that had gone before. "Thank you for last night."

Jessica's heart tore in half.

Ryan didn't know it yet but last night had been goodbye… although she was already wavering. Maybe another week…

He rose to his feet. A dark sombreness shadowed his eyes. "Don't be late for the funeral. And don't-"

"Don't do anything that would give us away." That hurt. Especially today. "I know."

Astonishment turned his eyes the colour of sunlight on jade. "I was about to say don't do anything that might distract me."

Her throat went dry. "Go, Ryan."

Jessica watched him stride out of the bedroom, heard his footsteps on the highly polished nyatoh wood flooring in the airy lobby. Only when she heard the elevator doors slide shut did she get out of bed.

Her stomach rolled. Bile hit the back of her throat. Jessica ran. She barely made it to the bathroom before she started retching.

Afterwards she washed her face with cold water, her hands trembling. Then she finally looked up into the mirror above the basin into her pale face with its wide-set brown eyes, the smattering of caramel freckles standing out in sharp relief. She looked absolutely ghastly. But she held her own gaze. No more pity. No more guilt. Today, she told herself. You break it off today. As soon as the funeral is over.

Before the evidence was there for everyone to see.

Excerpt from PRIDE & A PREGNANCY SECRET, Silhouette Desire® February 2008

ISBN 978-1-4268-1239-2

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Kimberley hadn't been on the paparazzi hit list for close to a decade, not since she'd estranged herself from her billionaire father and his headline-hungry diamond business. But, no, it was her name they called. Her face the focus of a swarm of lenses that circled like avid hornets. Her heart started to pound with fear-fuelled adrenaline.

What did they want? What the hell was going on?

With a rising sense of bewilderment she scanned the crowd for a clue and her gaze fastened on a tall leonine figure forcing his way to the front. A tall, familiar figure. Her head came up in stunned recognition and their gazes collided across the sea of heads before the cameras erupted with another barrage of flashes, this time right in her exposed face.

Blinded by the flashbulbs -- and by the shock of that momentary eye-meet -- Kimberley didn't realise his intent until he'd forged his way to her side. Possibly by the sheer strength of his personality. She felt his arm wrap around her shoulder, pulling her into the protective shelter of his body, allowing her no time to object. No chance to lift her hands to ward him off. In the space of a hastily drawn breath, she found herself plastered knee to nose against six-feet of hard-bodied male.

Ric Perrini.

Her lover for ten torrid weeks, her husband for ten tumultuous days.

Her ex for ten tranquil years.

After all this time, he should not have felt so familiar but, oh dear Lord, he did. She knew the scent of that body and its lean, muscular strength. She knew its heat and its slick power and every response it could draw from hers.

She also recognised the ease with which he'd taken control of the moment and the decisiveness of his deep voice when it rumbled close to her ear. "I have a car waiting outside. Is this your only luggage?"

Kimberley nodded. A week at a tropical paradise did not require much in the way of clothes. Especially when she was wearing the one office-style dress and the only pair of heels she'd packed. When he released his grip on her shoulder to take charge of her compact suitcase, she longed to dig those heels into the ground, to tell him exactly where he could park his car along with his presumptuous attitude.

But she wasn't stupid. She'd seen Perrini in action often enough to know that attitude yielded results. The fierce expression and king-of-the-jungle manner he did so well would keep the snapping newshounds at bay.

Not that she was about to be towed along as meekly as her wheeled luggage.

"I assume you will tell me," she said tightly, "what this welcome party is all about."

"Not while the welcome party is within earshot. No."

Barking a request for the cameramen to stand aside, Perrini took her hand and pulled her into step with his ground-eating stride. Kimberley let him because he was right, damn his arrogant, Italian-suited hide. Despite the speed with which he whisked her across the terminal forecourt, she could almost feel the hot breath of the pursuing media on her back.

This was neither the time nor the place for explanations. Inside his car, however, she would get answers.

Now the initial shock had been blown away -- by the haste of their retreat, by the heat of her gathering indignation, by the rush of adrenaline fired by Perrini's presence and the looming verbal battle -- her brain was starting to tick over. This had to be her father's doing. And if it was a Howard Blackstone publicity ploy, then it had to be about Blackstone Diamonds, the company that ruled his life. The knowledge made her chest tighten with a familiar ache of disillusionment.

She'd known her father would be flying in from Sydney for today's opening of the newest in his chain of exclusive, high-end jewellery boutiques. The opulent shopfront sat adjacent to the rival business where Kimberley worked. No coincidence, she thought bitterly, just as it was no coincidence that Ric Perrini was here in Auckland ushering her to his car.

Perrini was Howard Blackstone's right-hand man, second in command at Blackstone Diamonds and head of the mining division, that position of power a legacy of his short-lived marriage to the boss's daughter. No doubt her father had sent him to fetch her; the question was why?

On his last visit to Auckland, Howard had attempted -- not for the first time -- to lure her back to Blackstone's, to the job she'd walked away from the day she walked out on her marriage. That meeting had escalated into an ugly word-slinging bout and ended with Howard vowing to write her from his will if she didn’t return to Blackstone’s immediately.

Two months later Kimberley was still here in Auckland, still working for his sworn enemy at House of Hammond. They hadn't spoken since; she hadn't expected any other outcome. When her father said he was wiping his hands of her, she took him at his word.

Yet here she was, being rushed toward a gleaming black limousine by her father's number-one henchman. She had no clue why he'd changed his mind or what the media presence signified apart from more Blackstone headlines and the certainty that she was being used. Again. Sending Perrini was the final cruel twist.

By the time they arrived at the waiting car, her blood was simmering with a mixture of remembered hurt and raw resentment. The driver stowed her luggage while Perrini stowed her. She slid across the silver-grey leather seat and the door closed behind her, shutting her off from the cameras that seemed to be multiplying by the minute.

Perrini paused on the pavement beside the hire car, his hands held wide in a gesture of appeal as he spoke. Whatever he was saying only incited more questions, more flashbulbs, and Kimberley steamed with the need to know what was going on. She reached for her door handle, and when it didn't open she caught the driver's eye in the rear-view mirror. "Could you please unlock the doors? I need to get out."

He looked away. And he didn't release the central locking device.

Kimberley's blood heated from slow simmer to fast boil. "I am here under duress. Release the lock or I swear I will--"

Before she could complete her threat, the door opened from outside and Perrini climbed in beside her. She'd been closer inside the airport terminal, when he'd shielded her from the cameras with the breadth of his body, but then she'd been too sluggish with disbelief to react. Now she slid as far away as the backseat allowed, and as she fastened her seatbelt the car sped away from the kerb.

Primed for battle, she turned to face her adversary. "You had me locked inside this car out of earshot while you talked to the media? This had better be good, Perrini."

He looked up from securing his seatbelt and their eyes met and held. For the first time there was nothing between them, no distraction, no interruption, and for a beat of time she forgot herself in those unexpectedly blue eyes, in the unbidden rush of memories that rose in a choking wave.

For a second she thought she saw an echo of the same raw emotion deep in his eyes but then she realised it was only tiredness. And tension.

"I wouldn't be here," he said, low and gruff, "if this wasn't important."

The implication that he would rather be anywhere but here, with her, fisted tight around Kimberley's heart. But she lifted her chin and stared him down. "Important to whom? My father?"

He didn't have to answer. She saw it in the narrowing of his deep-set eyes, as if her comment had irritated him. Good. She'd meant it to.

"Did he think sending you would change my mind?" she continued coolly, despite the angry heat that churned her stomach. "Because he could have saved himself--"

"He didn't send me, Kim."

There was something in the delivery of that simple statement that brought all her senses to full alert. Finally she allowed herself to take him all in, not lounging with his usual arrogant ease but sitting straight and still. Sunlight spilled through the side window onto his face, highlighting the angles and planes, the straight line of his nose and the deep cleft in his chin.

And the muscle that ticked in his jaw.

She could feel the tension now, strong enough to suck up all the air in the luxury car's roomy interior. She could see it, too, in the grim line of his mouth and the intensity of his cobalt-blue eyes.

Despite the muggy summer's morning Kimberley felt an icy shiver of foreboding. Beneath the warmth of her holiday tan her skin goose-bumped. Something was very, very wrong.

"What is it?" Her fingers clutched at the handbag in her lap, gripping the soft leather straps as if that might somehow anchor her against what was to come. "If my father didn't send you, then why are you here?"

Excerpt from VOWS & A VENGEFUL GROOM, Silhouette Desire® January 2008

ISBN 978-0-373-76843-1

Chapter One

"We are gathered here today in the face of this company to join together Kimberley Blackstone and Ricardo Perrini in matrimony...."

Jarrod Hammond heard the words of the female marriage celebrant but his eyes were drawn not to the bride, but to the woman sitting opposite him in the horseshoe circle surrounding his cousin Kim and her soon-to-be husband, Ric Perrini.

Adrenaline kicked in as he leaned back in his chair and let his gaze rake over Briana Davenport, the Australian supermodel who was the "Face" of Blackstone Diamonds. Through the massive yacht's large windows behind her, the late afternoon sun highlighted the most glorious harbour in the world and created a picture perfect backdrop for her beauty.

Framed by the Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge, and dressed in a silky, pale-blue pantsuit that flowed as she moved, she was elegance and sophistication. The epitome of glamour. A crowning glory for the diamond company she symbolized. He could see why Howard Blackstone had chosen her to represent his business.

Mistress & A Million Dollars ~ Maxine Sullivan

And just as expensive, Jarrod mused rather cynically, noting with satisfaction the exact moment she saw him looking at her. Her eyelids flickered just a bit before she looked away, but only someone with an internal radar for this woman would pick up on it.

Someone like him.

"If anyone can show just cause...." the celebrant continued.

Much to his displeasure, his internal radar was constantly tuned on Briana. It had been that way from the moment he'd set eyes on her at his brother's marriage to her sister four years ago. It had been on high ever since, even though he knew Briana had a serious flaw. An expensive serious flaw. She liked money, and plenty of it, and went through it like it was going out of fashion, according to her now-dead sister, Marise.

Of course, being attuned to Briana didn't help when everywhere he turned she was there in front of him... up on billboards...on the television... in glossy magazines. Nor was it easy knowing they lived in the same city in another part of the country. Thankfully with her jet-setting around the world as a supermodel, and him with his law practice, Melbourne was big enough for the two of them not to run into each other.

"Ric, do you take Kimberley for your lawful wedded wife, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honour, comfort and...."

But now, seeing Briana in the flesh again - her oh-so-delicious flesh - reminded him why he'd inveigled an invitation to the Blackstone Jewellery launch here in Sydney last Friday and flown up from Melbourne. And why he was glad he'd accepted Kim's invitation today. Being a Hammond at a Blackstone wedding was never going to be easy, but with Briana here, the day suddenly seemed full of sensual possibilities, despite the presence of millionaire Jake Vance, who once again partnered her.

"Kimberley, do you take Ric for your lawful wedded husband, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honour, comfort and...."

Jarrod's mouth tightened as he looked at the man sitting beside Briana. The pair had been photographed together in the Melbourne papers at the St Valentine's Day races a few weeks ago. And again last Friday at the jewellery launch. Were the two of them lovers? Probably, he decided, not pleased by the burst of irrational jealousy he felt at the thought of her in the other man's bed.

"May this ring be blessed so that he who gives it..." the woman continued.

Dammit, was he being a glutton for punishment by going after her? Hadn't he already made his decision to bed her? A decision based on wanting to find out all he could about her sister for his brother's sake. He'd seen Matt only two weeks ago and had been shocked at how worn and bitter he'd become. Jarrod and Matt may be adopted but they were closer than blood brothers, and he'd do everything in his power to make sure Matt found some inner peace - no matter what it took.

Or whom.

But he couldn't blame his brother for being bitter when his wife, Marise, had died from injuries received in a plane crash almost two months ago, along with Howard Blackstone and four others. It had conjured up a myriad of questions. Questions that no one had any answers to, except maybe Briana Davenport.

"Wear it as a symbol of love and commitment..."

Surely Briana knew why her sister had been on Howard's plane before it crashed. And she knew if her own sister was having an affair with Howard, the enemy of the Hammond family ever since his greed parted the two family factions many years ago. She just wasn't saying.

And then there'd been the shock of Marise having been named as a beneficiary in Howard's will. A seven sum figure and the Blackstone jewellery collection was a considerable inheritance for a young mistress. And that begged the question as to whether Blake was really Howard's son and not Matt's. Blake certainly had the same dark hair as Howard, unlike Matt's sandy blonde head. It made Jarrod sick to the stomach to think about it.

"You may now seal the promises you have made with each other with a kiss."

Dammit, the Blackstones had caused enough pain for his family. His parents would be devastated if they found out that Blake was not their grandson, but their great-nephew instead. Not that it would make any difference to the way they felt about the child. They'd proven that by adopting him and Matt all those years ago. As for Matt and how he would feel about Blake not being his own....

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ricardo Perrini."

Just then, as if his angry thoughts had drawn Briana's blue eyes back to him, Jarrod held her gaze amongst the clapping and the cheers, and let her know with a look what he had decided. She was the woman he wanted.

She was the woman he would have.

Excerpt from MISTRESS & A MILLION DOLLARS, Silhouette Desire® March 2008

ISBN 978-0373768554

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It slowly dawned on her that he expected her to work on his diamond here. A laptop sat open on a desk, no doubt with the best CAD software available. The desk and bench were lit with magnified true-light lamps. He must have had all this brought in, she thought dimly, lights included.

Dani ran her hand over the workbench. “You were that sure I’d agree?”

“I’ve questioned your motivation in the past, Ms Hammond, not your intelligence.”

She glanced over to where he leaned casually against the door jamb, arms folded. “Why?”

“The diamond does not leave the premises.”

“So I come around here when I feel like it? When I have a spare minute?” She shook her head. “That would take months.”

Quinn turned to the door and stretched his arm out, indicating she precede him. His steady gaze challenged her to refuse.

Cautiously Dani edged past him, down the hall away from the stairs. She paused at the next door. He leaned past her, pushing it open, and she took a couple of hesitant steps forward.

Long white curtains stirred at the open window and she heard the sea lapping the sand beyond the trees. A huge bed, covered with shiny satin in bold red and gold stripes, took up most of one wall. Purple-shaded lamps on the bedside tables matched plump purple cushions scattered on the window seat. Dani felt the smile start; it was a dream of a bedroom and to think she could hear the sea. She was still smiling when she turned around to see Quinn in a long-legged lean against the door jamb, arms folded, a pose that was fast becoming disturbingly familiar.

Her smile faded as his intentions finally sank in. He expected her to stay here – alone – with him. “No,” she said firmly, even though he hadn’t asked the question yet.

His dark head tilted. “Those are my conditions. You stay here and work on the diamond in the workroom provided until the job is done.”

Frowning, she shook her head slowly.

“It’s not negotiable.”

Dani thought he sounded bored. “I’m not staying here – alone – with you.”

His eyes were scathing. “Don’t be puerile, Ms. Hammond. Just what do you think is going to happen?”

If his intention was to make her feel gauche and stupid, it worked. “What possible reason...?” she stammered, her cheeks burning.

“Security and expediency. It is an extremely valuable diamond and I am a busy man. I don’t have time to sit around up here in nowhere-ville for a minute longer than necessary.”

Dani shook her head again. “No deal. Bring the stone to the shop. I’ll work on it between customers.”

Quinn’s brows raised. “I don’t think so,” he said softly and, turning, left the room. But the certainty of his voice, his potent male presence remained.

Dani waited a couple of seconds, worried. There was sympathy in his face as he’d turned away. Her refusal had not even registered. A vision of being locked in, of pushing against him, pounding against his broad chest to get out, made her head swim.

She was being ridiculous. Quinn Everard was an internationally-regarded man in the gem and fine arts world. He was not going to kidnap her. She started off after him. “Look, if you’re worried about theft, don’t be. There hasn’t been a robbery in town for years.”

“You don’t understand, Ms. Hammond.” He turned so sharply to face her that she almost bumped into his impressive chest. “This is a very special diamond.”

“It will be perfectly safe in the shop, and anyway, I’m insured.”

His eyes bored into her, making her heart thump. She stepped back hurriedly, excruciatingly aware that he hadn’t given an inch.

“Have you heard of the Distinction Diamond, Danielle?”

“The Dist...?” Air punched out from her lungs and her heart thudded. Either that or her chin hit the floor. The Distinction Diamond was nearly forty carats of fancy intense yellow, originating from the Kimberley mines in South Africa. No one had heard of it for years. “You’ve got the Distinction Diamond?” Her swallow was audible. “Here?”

Quinn Everard could do scathing very well. Was it the curve of his lips or the dangerous glint that lit up his eyes? “No, Ms. Hammond.” He turned his back and continued on to the door next to ‘her’ room. “I have her big sister.”

Quinn turned his back and walked into his bedroom, smiling when he felt her creeping presence at the door. Opening the panel in the wall that concealed the safe, he began keying the code into a digital keypad. The whole house was alarmed and this room and the workroom were smoke-alarmed. The safe was dual combination and key, complete with trembler sensor. His company had the best security money could buy. After all, it was vital in his business.

He glanced to where she fidgeted at the door, chewing on her bottom lip. Quinn mis-keyed and the thing beeped at him. He swore softly, ordering himself to stop thinking about whiskey eyes and plump bottom lips. She was on the hook. It was time to reel her in.

He went through the elaborate security measures with exaggerated care, then took out a heavy steel box from which he lifted a hand-stitched leather case, after a barrage of additional code numbers. A hydraulic mechanism raised a small velvet-covered platform on which the diamond sat. Reaching out, he flicked the desk lamp on. Then he faced her and tilted his head, giving her permission to come near.

She moved slowly into the room, her eyes on his face. The light from the lamp washed over her skin and he thought again, as he had earlier on meeting her, that her face was all wrong, a contradiction. Wide-set, wild honey eyes, a straight no-nonsense nose, and then rosebud lips, suggesting innocence and insecurity.

And just like earlier when he’d first looked at her, the impact jolted him. She’d attempted to tame her wildfire hair with a scarf but still, dark red curls sprang up in interesting dimensions. Her colour sense was outrageous, combining a red and pink striped top with a captivatingly-short floral skirt. She was exotic, unconventional, bubbling over with life and energy. He knew more beautiful women but none so colourful, so vibrantly original.

She looked down at the diamond on display for her, her eyes glowing. When she finally looked back at Quinn, the gratitude in her eyes stunned him. She would know well how few people had ever been given the opportunity to look upon this treasure.

Enjoy it, he thought grimly. If it were down to him, he wouldn’t have Danielle Hammond within one hundred meters of this baby, no matter how interesting her face.

She put out her hand. It hovered over the glow and she hesitated. “May I?”

Half of him wondered what the diamond would look like against her skin, her hair. The other half protested – Get the hell away from this diamond! But he had his orders. He nodded tersely.

Her slim hand dipped and the middle finger stroked lightly, reverently over the crown of the perfect octahedron. Then she took her hands away, crossed them in front of her body and just looked down at the stone, as if giving thanks to a god. Her lashes made shadows on her cheek.

Excerpt from SATIN & A SCANDALOUS AFFAIR, Silhouette Desire® April 2008

ISBN 9780373768615

Satin & A Scandalous Affair ~ Jan Colley

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The house was right on the sand dunes, surrounded by high walls. A discreet plaque on the wall by the entrance said ‘Luxury Executive Accommodation.’ Dani had always wondered what it was like inside.

She followed Quinn through the gate and entrance into a large multi-levelled living and dining area. The house was a blend of Asian and Australian designs, the furnishings rattan, leather and teak. Striking floral arrangements with Birds of Paradise and heliconias seasoned the air with tropical scents, stirred by lazily rotating ceiling fans. This place was even better than she’d imagined.

“Shall we?”

Quinn stood at the door leading to the stairs. Dani hesitated for a second. She didn’t trust Mr Quinn Everard one inch but it wasn’t a threat of physical violence that made her pause. More his attitude, the impression that he got what he wanted so effortlessly. He smelled good, looked good, obviously lived well. She’d need her wits about her with a man prepared to resort to blackmail to get his own way.

He opened the first door and intense light flooded what was obviously a dream work room. In one corner, under the perfect lighting, sat an easel. A workbench ran fully down one side, two stools at the end and tool organisers that held an array of implements, everything from tweezers to gauges to loupes. There was a waxing station, engraving blocks, micro torch, rollers and grinders – everything she had in her shop, except the equipment was new and top of the range and must have cost a fortune.

An excruciating hour later, Jake's normally tight control was in tatters. They'd gone through every floor in Blackstone's and he'd spent precisely sixty-two minutes in Holly's orbit, her gentle fragrance alternately arousing and frustrating him. Her soft, animated voice had tripped over his senses, aided traitorously by the memory of that kissy-mole when her mouth curved into a smile.

When she walked, he'd ashamedly found his gaze riveted to those curvy hips, swaying one tantalizing step ahead of him.

And her smell... he'd breathed in deeply, guiltily, more than once. Since when had a woman smelled so damn good?

The only time he'd not been thinking about touching her was when they'd passed Howard's trophy wall. Photos of the man opening the Blackstone's store. At some formal function. Shaking hands with the Prime Minister, the Queen, four U.S. past-presidents.

Jake had barely been able to contain a sneer. Howard had loved putting his stamp on everything he owned, flaunting his wealth and power. Like the way he'd displayed it on Ursula's neck.

Disgust bubbled up and with a scowl he choked it back down. He was not like Howard, despite Kimberley's assertion.

"Let's move on."

Boardrooms & A Billionaire Heir ~ Paula Roe

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He jumped at Holly's soft intrusion, only to have his body react on a more primitive level when his eyes focused on her curves once again. The grey pin-stripe skirt moulded her hips, emphasising a defined waist and womanly hips. Her shirt was bright blue, making her eyes stand out, the elbow-length sleeves showing off long arms with a watch on one wrist, a simple gold bangle on the other.

Absently he'd wondered if she had on any makeup at all, given how fresh her face looked. How touchable it looked.

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and nodded. He imagined Holly taking the news about his real identity with outward calm, a façade that covered up the fact she was a deep thinker. He'd noticed more than once the realities of her thoughts clearly mirrored in her expressive blue eyes.

No, not blue, more green. Like the complexity of shades in the deep ocean, where the-

His thoughts screeched to a halt. Since when had he obsessed about a woman's eyes before?

Yet despite his control, an unwanted ache started in his groin. An ache that couldn't be ignored when, an hour after the tour was over, Jake shoved his way into Blackstone's executive gym.

Instead of solitude, a stretching Holly on the treadmill confronted him, scattering all thoughts of a long hard run to clear his mind.

He stared. And stared. In short bike pants and a cropped sports top, she was gripping one tanned muscular leg behind her in a quad stretch, the white lycra pulling tight across her breasts as they rose with her deep breaths. As his mouth went dry, she rolled her shoulders and her long ponytail dragged over her damp skin.

Her breath sighed out, quickly engulfing his brain, the part that was still functioning.

His bag dropped unheeded to the floor. She kept right on stretching, her shoulder blades flexing and contracting with the effort.

Swish of the hair.

Deep sigh.

He groaned, ready to beat a hasty retreat, but she must have sensed him because she whirled, pulling her earbuds out. She quickly dropped her leg and grabbed her towel, her chest rising as a trickle of sweat ran down her throat and disappeared in the cleft beneath her damp tank. He let his gaze follow that journey, until he reluctantly dragged his eyes back up to meet hers.

"Leaving?" he murmured.

"Yes." In record time, she pulled a sweatshirt over her head then scooped up her bag, quickly heading for the door.

He just stood there, the air as she hightailed it past him yawning cold and empty. Then he heard the door click with finality.

As the gym doors closed behind her, Holly wrapped her arms around her body to ward off the chill. Escape first, then put on your track pants. She thought she'd nearly succeeded until Jake appeared beside her.

"Yours," he said gruffly, holding out her iPod. She paused, glanced at his hand, then up at his face. A blank, stern face devoid of all warmth.

She slowly took her iPod and couldn't help but notice he relinquished it without making skin contact. "Thanks." She turned back to the elevator and repositioned her bag on her shoulder, glancing up at the ascending floor numbers.

When he remained still, she shot a quick look in his direction. "Working late?"

"This is early for me."

She smiled thinly but said nothing.

"But...?" he prompted.

"Don't you ever take a day off?"

He shrugged. "Too much work to do."

"What's the point of making all that money if you can't enjoy yourself?"

He frowned. "I'm not unhappy with what I've achieved, Holly. Money doesn't make you miserable."

"No. People do that all by themselves." The elevator doors swung open, signalling the end to their strange conversation. But to Holly's surprise he followed her in. The doors swished closed and in the next second, he slammed on the stop button.

"And to answer your question, I enjoy myself plenty."

She stilled, her breath rattling around too harsh in her throat, her heart beating too loud in her chest. She looked at him, noting his narrowed eyes, the sudden tension in his body as it practically sizzled... not with anger but something else, something indefinable that he struggled to contain.

Apprehension chugged through her body, leaving her immobile. Wasn't he supposed to be ice cold in the face of adversity?

Then he fixed on her mouth and she felt a hot flush start in her belly and fan upwards. She parted her lips, the air in her lungs thickly seeping out. Was he actually thinking about kissing her?

He moved quickly, so smoothly for a man the size of Ayers Rock that it took the rest of her breath away. Or maybe it was the kiss stealing all her will to function properly. It froze her limbs, stuttered her heartbeat. Erased all the memories of other kisses that had come before.

When his hot mouth covered hers in deep possession, his hands buried in her hair preventing escape, a low groan escaped her. The kiss, the sheer power and force of it, stole her will, along with any denials she may have entertained. All that existed was Jake and the force of his kiss, the utter command of his lips sliding over hers and his tongue invading her mouth.

She took a deep, shuddering breath as her eyes fluttered closed. His smell was so different from anything she'd experienced, the heat, the passion. So when his hands cupped her face, holding her in place, Holly kissed him right back.

It did Jake in, finally having her lush mouth beneath his, that tiny mole teasing the corner, his to kiss. The mole that had distracted him time and again for hours on end.

Her skin scorched him, as if a furnace burned just below the surface. Suddenly the desire to have her naked, to lie against the rest of that silken skin, crashed into him.

His hands were under her sweatshirt and he hit what he was seeking - hot damp flesh. But like an addict craving more, he wasn't satisfied with the mere touch of her skin, the feel of her ribcage under his questing hand. He wanted - needed - more.

With his blood pounding thickly in his veins, the ache in his groin an almost unbearable tightness, he found the edge of her tank top and eased his way under to the gentle curve of one breast.

Her sudden gasp snapped him back to reality, and he wrenched his mouth away from the temptation of hers.

What the hell are you doing?

From a great gaping distance he heard Holly's breathless question, thick with passion.

"Jake?"

She'd never know how difficult it was to withdraw from the pleasures her body promised. How much he ached to succumb to the raging passion that forced beads of sweat to run down his back.

Desire grabbed at him, yanked and twisted his brain until he was left hot, hard and frustrated. But with a shuddering sigh, he withdrew and stepped back, the cool air rushing into the gaping chasm between their bodies.

"Pull your shirt down," he said, knowing it came out more harshly than he intended when the light of desire flickered and died on Holly's face.

Self-disgust filled him, quickly followed by guilt. He'd lost control. For the first time in years he'd lost it.

He wanted to reach out to her, offer some kind of apology, but if her crossed arms and steely back were any indication, he'd have a better chance of flying to the moon.

Slowly, he released the emergency stop button and with a sudden jerk, the elevator started up. "I'll take you home."

She shot him an incredulous look. "I'm not your responsibility, Jake. I can catch a cab."

"Look," he said slowly, turning to her. "We..."

"Jake, I understand." She refused to meet his eyes as the elevator doors slid open. "It's not a big deal."

Jake stared at her retreating back, the words stuck to the roof of his mouth. Not a big deal? So how come he suddenly felt the urgency to taste her right now? To have those shapely legs wrap around his waist and feel the erotic glide as he buried himself deep inside her?

Damn it. Now he was hard again.

With a soft curse, he slammed on the basement button before he did something even more foolish than what he'd just already done.