The Sapphire Affair (A Jewel Novel Book 1)

by Lauren Blakely

  A marble floor greeted visitors, and cool, perfectly modulated air pumped through the lobby. Tellers tended to customers behind tall oak counters, while bankers parked at desks worked on more complicated transactions. Eli ignored all of them, striding toward the back, where a man in a pinstriped suit greeted him and held out a hand to shake. The suited man opened the door, and Eli followed him through. Jake wandered casually in that direction, but a guard stood watch.

  Staring intently in the distance.

  Jake patted his pockets and took a gamble. “Ah hell,” he mumbled.

  The guard looked up. “Can I help you with something, sir?”

  “Crap. I wish. Unless you’ve got the spare key to my safe deposit box back there?” he asked in a lighthearted voice, pointing in the direction Eli had gone.

  The guard smiled faintly. “No, sir.”

  “I’ll be back, then. Must have left it on the darn counter. Need to get my baseball cards.”

  “See you when you return.”

  As Jake left the bank, he added up the details in his head. There was no definitive proof that Eli was adding gems to a stash in his safe deposit in the bank, or trading more in. There wasn’t proof of anything yet. But there was quite a bit of circumstantial evidence that Eli kept at least some jewels in his house. Seemed Steph had been right on that count with her first gut instinct that the gems were in his home.

  Good thing he was working with the inside woman.

  Working.

  He repeated that word as he returned to his car.

  Working. That’s what he was doing. Working. Not dreaming up new ways to make her cry out in pleasure.

  Jake grabbed a cup of coffee from a street-side vendor outside the bank, chatting about the fishing weather these days as the guy poured the cup. During a conversation about marlins and groupers, Eli’s fiancée arrived, stepping out of a taxicab just as Eli left the bank fifteen minutes after he’d gone in. Eli walked over to Isla and wrapped her in an embrace that became a kiss. Then he squeezed her ass, smacked it, and tugged her close.

  He draped an arm possessively around her and walked down the street.

  A few blocks later they darted into a local realtor’s office.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  She met him at Happy Turtle Cove in the early evening. She’d been here already, mapping out a plan to take her group here in a few days. She’d wanted to visit the spot one more time before the tour, and she’d run into a few friends. Sandy had been here, prepping to kiteboard with Reid. She’d chatted with them for a bit, then told them she’d see them at the boat party later this week. She also spotted a big, burly guy with a snake tattoo on his arm. He was snoozing behind shades on a beach towel. The Caymans wasn’t a big place, so she’d figured he was her stepdad’s club manager and she’d meet him soon enough, since she hadn’t when she’d visited the club.

  But everyone else fell from her mind as Jake walked toward her.

  Time for several deep breaths. She tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. Her tap-dancing nerves. Her flip-flopping belly. But hormones fueled her still, those raging beasts that seemed to cannibalize every brain cell when he was near. Because . . . those broad shoulders. That sexy grin. Those green eyes. That hair. Oh Lord, that hair. How would it feel to slide her fingers through it as he moved over her? How would it feel to have him deep inside her? How would she like to rip off that blue T-shirt, and unzip his cargo shorts, and wrap her hands around him?

  A ribbon of heat raced through her bloodstream, answering her. Amazing. Fucking amazing.

  “Hey,” he said, then flashed a lopsided grin that made her want to kiss him again, though she knew that would lead to nothing but trouble for her heart.

  “Hi,” she said, and wished she had pockets on this sundress so she could have something to do with her hands that were too eager. She laced her fingers together so she wouldn’t grab the man in a wildly inappropriate embrace.

  “How was your day?” he asked, and she detected a note of nerves in his voice.

  “Fine. You?”

  “Good. Should we get you to dinner at Eli’s?” he asked quickly, gesturing to his car on the other side of the sand dunes. There was a strange awkwardness in his tone.

  “Absolutely,” she said with a squeak.

  He held out an arm, but not for her. More of a gesture for her to walk. OK, fine. If he wasn’t making contact, perhaps he regretted yesterday.

  He cleared his throat.

  Uh-oh.

  “I was just thinking, we should go back to—”

  “Yes. Absolutely. Just focus on the work,” she said, quickly rearranging her attitude in an instant, slipping on the play-it-cool one. While her heart ached the teeniest bit, her brain knew this was wise. She just wished she’d said it first.

  He nodded crisply. “Glad we agree.”

  “We so agree,” she said through gritted teeth, and they drove to Corey’s Landing in her car. He was quiet most of the drive; then he started to speak, and she was sure he was going to admit that keeping their hands off each other was the worst idea ever.

  Even though it was completely what they needed to do.

  Completely.

  One hundred percent.

  “Hey, Steph. I saw Eli and his fiancée heading into a realtor’s office downtown today,” he said as they turned into the development and he told her about his morning. “Any chance you could try to suss out what that’s about tonight? In case it’s pertinent to the money and the diamonds and all?”

  He was clearly focused on the job. She could absolutely do the same. She was Steph Anderson, determined as ever, confident, bold, and unafraid. She swam with turtles, she kissed stingrays, she tangoed with dolphins. She could focus on the mission—finding out about the missing money.

  “Of course. I can absolutely do that. In fact, I did some research on Isla today,” she said, rattling off some facts, since she was not going to be one-upped in the just-work department. “Isla studied art history in college and she runs this gallery now, as you know. She’s very passionate about collecting modern art, and she’s also a generous supporter of the charitable arm of that diamond mine,” Steph said crisply, sliding into her businesswoman mind-set as she parked the car at the end of the road.

  “That’s an unusual combo.”

  “Maybe she just likes the finer things in life,” she mused, then took a beat and looked at him curiously, then returned her eyes to the road. “Why did we need to meet up before this dinner party? You’re not going in. I am. Can’t I just find you afterward and tell you what I learned?”

  “I told you I’d wait for you in case anything comes up,” he said in a cool, even tone. “But don’t worry. I know how to lie low. I’ll be hiding in the rosebushes, since there’s no trellis.”

  “No. I’m serious, Jake.”

  He sighed. “I just wanted to be here in case anything comes up. That’s all. It’s good for us to do things together.”

  “But you followed him this morning without me. I looked up the website without you. We don’t have to do everything together,” she said as she pulled to a stop in the parking lot at the development. She stared at him through narrowed eyes.

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “What are you saying, Steph?”

  “I’m saying I think you’re babysitting me because you don’t trust me.”

  “Are we really going back there again?”

  “I don’t think we ever got past there.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I did, and you’re the one who said you didn’t trust me.”

  “But now it turns out you don’t trust me, either.”

  “I just want to be here for you after the dinner.”

  “That hardly seems necessary. But enjoy waiting for me,” she said, tapping the steering wheel. “Don’t steal my car.”

  “Steph,” he said. “That’s not fair. I’m not going to steal your car.”

  As she opened the door, she tossed him the keys. “It’s fine if
you do. It’s a rental, and it’s insured. You really don’t have to wait for me.”

  He stretched across the seat to grab her arm, wrapping his fingers tightly around her wrist. It felt possessive, and better than it should. The little hairs on her arm stood on end. “Steph,” he said softly. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

  Her heart thumped. She gave it a mental swat, staying strong. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “You make it really hard to focus on just working with you. But I know that’s what you want, so I’m trying to make it easy for you. And I’m trying to make this whole thing easy for you because I can’t imagine how hard it is doing what you’re doing, and trying to make things right for your mom. So I’ll be here, waiting.”

  She softened a bit. Reminded herself why she was walking into her semi-estranged stepfather’s home. To do something she didn’t ordinarily do. Spy. Snoop. Play Nancy Drew. Her mom might act as if she was all fine with the royal screw in the divorce, but there was no way that was true. Steph had a chance to right a wrong.

  Besides, she wasn’t stealing. She was merely casing the joint.

  She laughed to herself. Now she was using regular old lingo. Like a pro.

  Perfect. She was safe and sound inside the house.

  Jake had no intention of waiting in the car. He had business to take care of and he didn’t want her to know what it was. If she knew what he was up to, she might act nervous. Flinch when she heard a sound. Listen for every creak in the floorboards.

  She needed to walk through the door without a clue.

  She was wrong about one thing, though. He trusted her. But the less she knew, the greater chance that he could pull it off as she unknowingly provided his cover.

  “You’re here!”

  Her voice was like honey and whiskey, and her body had been carved by artist’s hands.

  Steph walked into a full-on embrace from the model-esque Isla. The woman looped her arms around her like she was her long-lost relative.

  “Hi,” Steph said, as if the word itself were new to her, and it sounded that way on her tongue.

  Isla was tall, toned, tan, and trim. The four Ts. Stunning, too, and that irked Steph. Perhaps because it was so cliché, and for once she wished her stepfather would stop trafficking in clichés. Like this picturesque mini mansion perched on the edge of the water. Like his taste for showy jewelry. Like his predilection for affairs. Frustration coiled inside her, a gnawing wish that he could be the Eli she knew—the father who cared, not the man who’d hurt her mom.

  Isla placed her arms on Steph’s, tilted her head, and beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I have been dying to have you meet all my friends.”

  Steph furrowed her brow. Friends? “Where’s Eli?” she asked as her eyes darted from left to right, quickly cataloging the plush beige couch in the sitting room; then the marble table in the entryway; the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, brilliant with dangling teardrop crystals; then the white tiled floor.

  She cast her gaze to the marble table, faintly wishing for that crystal bowl full of diamonds, like jelly beans.

  It was nowhere to be seen.

  Nor was her stepfather.

  The only diamond in sight adorned the throat of Isla. Brilliant, and hanging on a pendant, it had a faint blue tint to it. Just like her stone. Same size. Same cut.

  Her stomach churned as another piece of evidence met her eyes. Another $10,000 diamond. She gritted her teeth as the diamond shone on the neck of the woman who hadn’t given Eli money to start his business. The woman who wasn’t her mother. The latest lady in a string of affairs he’d had, each one breaking the heart of the person Steph loved most.

  A new determination set in to uncover the full truth, diamonds, money, and all. Whatever Eli had done with the gems, she needed to know. She needed the truth—for her mom and for herself. So she could make peace with whoever her stepdad was.

  Isla winked. “He was called away tonight on business, but it’s perfect that you’re here. Some of my girlfriends and I are having a little get-together,” she said, and dropped her hand on Steph’s shoulder, ushering her inside.

  Shrieking echoed across the home, and a woman cried out in joyous laughter. “Oh my God, that feels amazing on my elbow. I can’t even.”

  Was she testing out lotion? A new massage oil?

  Isla’s green eyes sparkled as she dropped her voice to a naughty whisper. “Wait ’til she tries it in other places.”

  Steph furrowed her brow. “Like her hands?”

  “Oh yes, that’s a good start.”

  Another voice erupted in naughty laughter. “You all need to leave now. This bad boy is going to melt all my panties.”

  Steph cringed. From head to freaking toe. She hadn’t walked into a family dinner, but a randy ladies’ night in.

  No trellis needed. Thank you very much. A tree branch would do just fine. This former soldier knew how to climb a tree and catwalk across the branch like a tightrope. It hung close enough for Jake to take one more step . . . raise his foot . . . reach across . . . and there.

  Safe landing.

  Both feet were on the stucco roof.

  Lock kit in hand, he shimmied open a bathroom window in twenty seconds flat. He climbed inside and dropped softly on the floor of a palatial bathroom suite. Smelled like expensive perfume and fancy lotions and potions, as well as the kind of aftershave that men older than he wore. A faint light from the makeup mirror provided the barest illumination of fluffy towels on hooks, a waterfall shower, and double sinks.

  Nice digs.

  He stood in place, his ears trained on the sounds of the house. The upstairs was quiet and still. In the distance, the faint tinkling of women’s laughter fell on his ears. Steph was keeping them busy.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “You have to see all the goodies,” Isla said, clasping a hand around Steph’s arm and whisking her through the dining room, where a maid with a sleek black ponytail presided over little appetizers, like tuna on a criss-cross potato chip, a bowl of olives, a plate of nuts, and mushroom caviar. In the kitchen, another woman in a black-skirted uniform tidied up.

  “Have you heard of Joy Delivered?” Isla asked.

  Steph blushed. Of course she’d heard of Joy Delivered. What woman with her own credit card and online access hadn’t heard of the premiere sex-toy company? She owned a few of those babies. The Wild One had taken the edge off some of her most tension-filled days, while the Lola and its ten varying pulses had turned her into somewhat of an addict. An orgasm junkie—that’s what those toys could make a woman. Besides, Steph hadn’t been with anyone since Duke, unless you counted battery-operated boyfriends.

  Or yesterday with Jake.

  “Yes. I’m familiar with Joy Delivered’s oeuvre,” she said drily as Isla led her to the living room, where a dozen or so women were shrieking, laughing, toasting, and feeling up purple, pink, blue, and all other color and style of sex toys. She drew a deep, fueling breath, reminding herself she’d been invited behind enemy lines tonight. This was her chance to learn, to observe, to soak up as much intel as possible.

  “Isla, look! This one has ten speeds, and it simulates a tongue,” a bleached blond with a penchant for Botox shouted to the hostess. Her forehead didn’t move as she spoke. It appeared to have been ironed on.

  “Oh, that sounds amazing,” Isla purred in that sultry voice. “I should try that with my sweetie.”

  Sweetie. Eli.

  Was that Steph’s lunch that was coming back up? Yes, it might very well be. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, then opened them and plastered on a smile as the women passed the Lola toy around.

  “That’s one of the best models,” an authoritative-sounding brunette with cat’s-eye glasses pronounced. She must be the sex-toy representative. “It’s made of the finest silicone and it’ll last at least ten hours before you need to charge it or change batteries. Ten hours—do you know how many orgasms that equals?” she asked, like a teacher tossi
ng out a question to the class.

  Bleached Blonde waved her arm high. “Pick me, pick me.”

  “Madeline, tell us,” the woman said.

  The blonde sat up straighter and turned her index finger and thumb into an O, declaring, “With my ex-husband, it’s zero. With my hot new boy toy, it’s infinity.”

  The ladies cracked up, and Isla grabbed Steph’s arm once more. “Isn’t that so true,” Isla said breathlessly. “It’s the same for me. Well, Eli’s no boy toy, but he’s all man in the—”

  “Is that champagne? I have been craving it all day,” Steph said, as if she’d had nothing but the bubbly beverage on her mind. She pointed to a bottle on the sleek pewter coffee table.

  “Someone get this hot young babe a champagne,” Madeline shouted, pointing at Steph.

  In seconds, Steph had downed the bubbly beverage and figured she’d need many more to make it through a sex-toy party that her stepfather had inadvertently invited her to. Or perhaps it was intentional. The mere thought of that made her pour a second glass.

  Easy as pie.

  Padding quietly down the carpeted hall, as noiseless as a cat, Jake passed a guest bedroom, then reached the office. Holding his breath, he gripped the doorknob and turned it quietly. Every muscle in his body was poised. To move, to run, to respond. Logic told him that Eli wouldn’t be in this room, but you never know.

  Gently, he opened the door and peered beyond it. The moonlight streaked through the window, casting faint glows across the desk, the floor, and the shelves.

  Photos of Eli’s fiancée and his kids lined his desk. An image of Steph kissing a stingray caught Jake’s attention. The sun shone on her face, and the water sparkled like diamonds behind her. Her smile could launch a thousand ships. Her happiness radiated from the frame, and his heart beat faster.

  He smacked his chest to shut it up.

  The safe had to be in here. He began his search.

  The bleached blonde named Madeline patted the seat next to her. “You’re Eli’s girl, right?”