Behind the Red Doors

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “Actually, the cut refers to how intricately the facets are arranged—how much the stone sparkles. But when most people say cut, they generally mean shape. And the shape does affect the way facets are cut.” She pointed to an oval diamond in a gold setting. “This one is exquisitely cut, but it has a lower color rating than some of the others.”

  “Color?”

  “The more clear, the better. Like this one.” She held up an emerald-cut solitaire set in silver so he could look at it from the side.

  He nodded. “I see.”

  She bit back a smile because she could tell he didn’t see at all. “And then there’s clarity, which simply refers to the tiny imperfections that occur naturally in nearly every diamond.” She handed him a pear-shaped solitaire in a platinum setting and invited him to look through her jeweler’s monocle. “This stone is of particularly good clarity.”

  He reluctantly pressed his eye to the magnifying device. “Uh-huh.”

  “And of course, there’s the carat weight, which seems to be rather important to most brides.” She forced a smile onto her face and handed him a round solitaire set in white gold. “Carat for carat, a round cut generally makes the most of the stone’s weight. This one is about three-quarters of a carat.”

  “Hmm.” His face was a study of pure bewilderment, but Faith had been down this road before.

  “Maybe we should start with the setting—does she wear gold jewelry or silver?”

  “I…never noticed.”

  “Okay. Would you say her style is more classic or more trendy?”

  “Um, classic, I guess.”

  A starting point. “Has she ever mentioned a particular shape that she likes? Maybe admired a friend’s ring?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Is her wardrobe dressy or sporty?”

  “Sporty.” He coughed. “She likes baseball.”

  “Not bowling?” she teased.

  A boyish grin split his face. “She’s not as good a bowler as you are.”

  His comment shouldn’t have cheered her so immensely. “Can you tell me anything else about her?”

  “Um, she’s small. Blond. Finicky eater.”

  Her cheer evaporated as a vision of a petite Barbie doll came to mind. “If she has small hands, any shape and size stone would look nice.” She quelled the stab of jealousy and curled her own long fingers under.

  He scratched his head and gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t realize there was so much to consider.”

  Faith nodded. “It’s an important decision. She’ll wear this ring for the rest of her life.” She’d delivered that line a thousand times, but she’d never been so personally invested in its claim.

  “I would want my bride to have the best ring I could afford,” he said slowly.

  The money part was always sticky, and she didn’t want to pry into his personal finances. “A general rule of thumb is to invest two months’ salary in an engagement ring, but that’s up to the individual.”

  He nodded, then laughed. “Two months of a cop’s salary probably won’t touch one of these babies.” He turned over a price tag and blanched. “Or four months.” He shoved his hand into his hair and shook his head. “I had no idea that women expect…all this.”

  “Don’t forget the thirty-five percent employee discount,” she murmured.

  “That’s very generous of you,” he said, his tone suddenly quiet. “But I’d better give this some more thought.”

  Faith realized with a sinking heart that she would give him a ring for the woman he loved if it would put a smile back on his handsome face. And just like that, it hit her—she wasn’t over Carter, not by a long shot. And even though he was lost to her, she couldn’t bear to see him suffer.

  “Carter.” She reached forward and touched his hand. “When you really love someone, it’s not about the ring.”

  He was silent for a few seconds, then put his other hand over hers, sandwiching her pale fingers between his strong, tanned ones. He lifted his gaze and smiled sadly. “Faith, don’t tell me you wouldn’t expect the man who proposed to you to come bearing a nice rock.”

  Her hand tingled between his. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” she whispered. “If a man I loved asked me to be his wife, I’d wear any ring he offered.”

  “You would?”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. When she realized she was getting too caught up in a moment meant for another woman, she pulled her hand free. “Any woman would, and I suspect Trudy feels the same.”

  He looked down, then wet his lips and looked up again. “Faith.”

  The way he said her name stalled her heart. Throaty. Engorged with emotion. “Yes, Carter?”

  His eyes seemed pained. “I—”

  A rap on the door caught her attention, and his. Her partner Jamie walked in, laden with briefcase, purse, and accordion files. “I saw the light.” Jamie’s gaze went to Carter and she stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

  “You’re not,” Faith said quickly. “I’m helping Carter pick out a ring for his fiancé.” She conjured up a smile. “He’s going to propose on Valentine’s Day.” She had filled Jamie in on her history with Carter, with a disclaimer that he was almost engaged. But she had seen the knowing looks that Jamie and Dixie had traded over coffee. Best to nip their rampant speculation in the bud.

  “Oh,” Jamie said. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

  He shifted foot to foot, then nodded his thanks.

  “Got big plans tonight?” Faith asked Jamie, to change the subject.

  “Not really. I might meet Dev later.”

  Faith tried to suppress her smile. “Dev?”

  “Yeah.” Jamie’s cheeks took on a telltale rosy tone. “Uh, want to join us?”

  “No, thanks. Some other time.”

  Jamie looked relieved. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”

  Faith waved and murmured, “And they lived happily ever after.” Those two were really becoming an item, and she couldn’t be more pleased. She laughed and looked back to Carter to find his intense gaze fastened on to her. “I’m sorry, Carter—you were saying?”

  But whatever had been in his eyes and on his mind before Jamie came in had fled. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

  But she’d had the strangest feeling he’d been about to confide in her. Was the big man getting cold feet as the day of reckoning approached? A sliver of vindication pierced her that maybe she’d been right—maybe he wasn’t commitment material.

  But just as quickly as it came, the satisfaction disappeared. Because Carter Grayson, a man who was unable to commit, was just as lost to her as Carter Grayson, married man.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thursday evening, February 6, 2003

  CARTER EXTENDED the leg press machine, grunting as the healing muscles in his thigh were taxed to exhaustion. He made it through two more repetitions by imagining Ben Sills’s face on the receiving end of the weight plate. The man had tested his patience today, flirting shamelessly with Faith. And she hadn’t held back, either, which was strange considering Mr. Traveling-Around-the-Country-with-a-Stupid-Rock didn’t exactly strike him as commitment material.

  He let the weights slam to the floor. The crashing noise covered the curse he released on an exhale. The anger that gripped him like a vise wasn’t directed toward Faith or even toward that moron Sills—after all, he couldn’t fault the man’s taste. No, he was angry with himself.

  For not jumping on the back of that cab a year ago to keep her from driving away.

  For not calling her the next day and the next and the next and begging her forgiveness for being as dense as a tree where romance was concerned.

  For concocting that preposterous story about living with someone in the hopes of making her jealous, then topping that lie with an even bigger whopper about planning to propose to the nonexistent woman.

  And for not having the guts to follow through on his urge to confess his all-around idiocy and to do what h
e’d been aching to do since he’d walked through that damned red door—kiss Faith Sherman as she’d never been kissed before.

  He sighed and wiped his face and neck with a white towel. Not that the most persuasive kissing in all of history would do him any good.

  What am I looking for? A re-la-tion-ship. A bona fide, old-fashioned, one-man, one-woman thing, he recalled her saying.

  And that was the reason he hadn’t jumped on the back of the cab or called her the next day. That was the reason he’d lied about having a serious girlfriend. That was the reason he hadn’t confessed his tall tale. Because Faith Sherman was holding out for a man who could promise her forever. And she’d likely prefer someone in her own social circle. He could promise only a few hot nights in bed, and his social circle included police department snitches. He knew himself and his short attention span well enough to know that even the powerful attraction he felt for her was not enough on which to build a long-term relationship. He had no business toying with a woman who had made her expectations perfectly clear. He didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. He didn’t want to be tied down. He’d lived in the same apartment for four years, and still paid his rent month to month. He didn’t even own a watch, for heaven’s sake!

  No. Better to keep a lid on his libido until this assignment passed. Then he could forget about Faith and get back to his life. He flexed his leg and, satisfied at the diminished level of pain, pushed himself to his feet. A woman across the gym running on a treadmill caught his eye, but he had to look twice to be sure. Faith? Damnation, those were definitely her legs. He bit his tongue. The long, strong rest of her was outlined in damp, snug, brief clothing.

  The lid to his libido developed a sudden vibration.

  FAITH WISHED she had brought her own CD to listen to while she ran, but typically she could find something upbeat on the radio. Tonight, however, Chicago disc jockeys seemed to be gearing up for Valentine’s Day by spinning every sad love song recorded in the past decade. Unrequited love. Broken hearts. Star-crossed lovers.

  She’d come here hoping to forget about Carter for a couple of hours, to sweat him out of her system, or at least to exhaust herself until she was guaranteed a few hours’ sleep tonight. He had been bad-tempered all day, snapping at Ben and even a couple of young boys who were roughhousing while in line to see the Valentino diamond. And when she had broached the subject of Trudy’s ring again, hinting that they offered a generous financing plan, he’d glowered and said thanks but he didn’t need her help, after all.

  A shadow fell across her digital display. She turned her head to tell the person she still had a mile to go, then almost lost her footing when she saw Carter standing there. She slowed the treadmill to a walk, and lowered her headphones to her neck. Her heart was pounding, but she couldn’t rightfully blame it all on her aerobic workout—not when Carter was her every erotic dream come true in long, loose gray sweatpants, a white muscle shirt over toned, glistening skin. He had a towel slung around his neck, and his dark hair was wet and curly around his face and neck, his color was high from exertion. And he didn’t exactly look happy to see her.

  “Hello,” she said, reaching for her own towel to wipe her neck and arms. Her gaze darted around—was one of the blond gym bunnies Trudy? The svelte woman on the stair machine? The stunner on the cross-country ski contraption?

  “Hello,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  He looked her up and down, and she was suddenly aware of how wet and clingy her clothing was. Resisting the urge to cover some bare skin with her hand towel, she maintained a slow walk on the treadmill. “Are you a member here?”

  “Temporarily. My gym is near the station. But considering the proximity to your store, this location is more convenient to finish my rehab exercises.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “By the time I finish the security assignment, I should be ready to get back out on the street.”

  “That’s good news. I’m sure your captain will be happy to have you back.”

  He made a noncommittal noise.

  She looked around again. “Are you here alone?”

  He frowned. “Hmm? Oh…yeah, I’m here alone. You?”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned on the treadmill rail. “Thought maybe Ben Sills had tagged along.”

  She squinted. “Pardon me?”

  “That cop wannabe was following you around the store today like a lapdog.”

  Piqued at his tone, she reached for her water bottle. “I know you and Ben don’t get along, but for heaven’s sake, Carter, you almost sound…jealous.”

  His shoulders pulled back. “Jealous? That’s ridiculous. You and I aren’t dating.” He seesawed the towel back and forth on his neck. “Besides, I have…Trudy.”

  Hurt and embarrassment flooded her, but she was determined not to let on. “I meant jealous over guarding the diamond.”

  “Oh.” He had the grace to look uncomfortable, then his eyebrows pulled together. “I just don’t trust that guy. I think you should be careful around him.”

  Oh, that was rich, coming from the man who had hurt her more than even she had realized until the past few days. She might have laughed, if she hadn’t felt so incensed. A year’s worth of pent-up anger and frustration billowed in her chest, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “I appreciate your concern, Carter, but what Ben Sills does for me, to me or with me is really none of your business. Now, if you don’t mind, I have plans later, and I’d like to finish my run.” She returned her headphones to her ears, then increased the speed on the treadmill until she was back up to a run.

  From his shadow, she knew he stood there for a full thirty seconds, but she refused to acknowledge him. She did, however, succumb to a flash of misery when his shadow disappeared. Short-lived, ill-suited, badly timed. No matter how one summed up their haphazard relationship, she and Carter simply weren’t meant to be.

  She ran one, then two more miles to boy-band love ballads in an attempt to purge her frustration. Then, afterward, she stretched to cool down. She didn’t look for Carter, didn’t see him, and didn’t expect to. Feeling shaky and at loose ends, Faith piled on a coat, hat, gloves, scarf, and boots, then gathered her gym bag and headed home for her “plans”—a long, hot bath and an overdue cry.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Saturday, February 8, 2003

  CARTER WAS THANKFUL for the Saturday crowd of people who’d heard about the massive Valentino diamond and wanted to take a gander at it. Constantly scanning the bodies queued up in serpentine fashion between black velvet ropes, and standing sentinel next to the glass case, helped pass the day without too many awkward encounters with Faith. Of course, she was busy in her own regard, maybe more so, handing out little cards to anyone willing to take a few minutes to create something called a “wish list,” and waiting on customers without a break in her smile or her step.

  He’d replayed yesterday’s events in his mind until he wished he could hit an erase button. He’d snapped at everyone in sight, including Faith when she hinted that she could arrange special financing for “Trudy’s” ring. He’d felt like a louse for deceiving her, not to mention embarrassed and annoyed that she assumed he had no resources. Of course, why wouldn’t she? He’d agreed to look at the rings only to be alone with her, then pretended the prices were out of his reach to get out of buying one! The truth was, he didn’t earn an exorbitant salary, but he spent much less than he made, and he could have paid cash for any two rings on that tray, dammit, if he’d had a mind to.

  So now on top of all her other opinions of him, she also thought he was poor—or cheap. And while that played into his plan of not becoming involved with Faith, it did not play well into his ego. He sank his hand into his pocket and fingered the small box that had burned a hole into his thigh all day. His mind kept saying that he might as well take care of an item of family business while he had access to a jeweler that he could trust. But his heart chimed in that revealing the box wo
uld go a long way in soothing his pride.

  Last night at the gym…well, that had been a pure fuster-cluck all the way around. He suspected that Faith had gone out with Sills afterward because this morning the man kept hinting at what a “hot” date he’d had. The thought of the two of them together made him want to break something—especially since the guy was traveling on to Schenectady or somewhere after this gig was over. If Faith was suddenly hip to the idea of having a fling, why not have one with him?

  Because, he reminded himself with a mental thump to the forehead, she thought he was on the verge of proposing to another woman! And wouldn’t the box in his pocket only further cement his lie? His head hurt from chasing the same thoughts over and over. And he felt a distinct pain in the middle of his chest. He rubbed the skin over his breastbone with his knuckles. The only explanation he could think of was that he’d pulled a muscle in his chest last night at the gym.

  A few straggling customers had kept the jewelry store open nearly an hour past closing time, so the rest of the mall sat dimly lit and quiet. Stacy waved to no one in particular on her way out, and Sills was busy unlocking the chains on the Valentino display case in preparation for rolling the diamond into the vault.

  “I got this covered,” Sills said to Carter. “You can go ahead and take off.”

  Carter glanced toward the vault where he could hear Faith humming to the music overhead. The man’s message was clear: he wanted to be alone with Faith. Carter ground his teeth, but managed a passable smile. “I need to ask Faith a favor.”

  Sills frowned. “What kind of favor?”

  “It’s personal.”

  “Personal?” she asked, emerging to walk toward them.

  He hesitated, then gave Sills a pointed look. The man scowled, then proceeded to roll the Valentino display case past them and into the vault.