One-Click Buy: July 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Julie Kenner

  When he closed his hands around her shoulders, she still didn’t want to relinquish control. Moving quickly, she straddled him, then raised her hips and lowered herself onto him. They locked fingers and eyes, but for a moment neither of them moved. It was as if by mutual consent, they wanted to stretch out the moment.

  When she finally began to move, she did so slowly, fighting against the urge to quicken the pace. Each time she lowered herself, she felt more of him fill her—more and more until she wasn’t sure where she left off and he began. More than anything, she wanted to spin out the time for both of them.

  When the first rays of sunshine streamed through the window, Cash gripped her hips and with one last hard thrust shattered both of them.

  11

  “I’M STUFFED,” Jordan said, pressing a hand to her stomach when Cash emptied a fresh skillet of scrambled eggs onto the platter in front of her.

  “I’ll take some of those off your hands.” D.C. dumped half of the eggs onto his plate, then offered the rest to Cash.

  Jordan shifted her gaze to Cash as the platter was emptied. “I’d think that D.C.’s possibly bionic leg might be hollow, but you’re eating as much as he is.”

  “It’s the cowboy life,” Cash said. “We load up when we can. Besides, there’s no telling when we’ll get a chance to eat anything again today.”

  Jordan tapped the open catalog in front of her. “The hotel is offering a free buffet lunch to exhibitors and attendees.”

  “According to your sister, jewelry shows aren’t exactly known for their hearty buffet lunches,” Cash said.

  Because she knew from experience he was right, Jordan made no further comment as the two men made their way through a huge amount of food. She might have eaten more than the one slice of bacon and half a piece of toast if the nerves in her stomach hadn’t objected.

  “You’re going to do a fine job of representing Maddie,” Cash said before taking a last swallow of his coffee. “You’ve been practicing how you’re going to display her designs for over an hour. I can tell you she never spent that much time figuring out a display in her life.”

  The phone rang and Jordan jumped. “Who would be calling now?” It was only shortly after seven. “Maddie?”

  Cash slid off his stool and went to the phone. “Yes?”

  In the silence that followed he mouthed the word Shay, and Jordan’s stomach settled a bit. Of course it would be Shay. He had planned to speak to Pete Blackthorn before he went into surgery. She had to get a grip.

  “And you’re not going to arrest him?”

  There was another stretch of silence, and as it lengthened, Cash’s frown deepened.

  “How’s Pete?” she asked as soon as Cash had hung up.

  “He’s lucid and strong enough that his surgery’s been scheduled for nine a.m. Shay got ten minutes with him before they wheeled him off for tests.”

  “Who isn’t Detective Alvarez going to arrest yet?” D.C. asked.

  Cash poured more coffee into all the mugs. “Pete didn’t recognize the man who pushed him. His attacker shoved him from behind. Luckily, the first fall was short, and Pete grabbed a handhold on a ledge. The man followed, and that’s when Pete got a look at him. The description he gave Shay could be Daniel Pearson. According to Shay, it could be someone else. But the diamond on the pusher’s pinky finger narrows it some.”

  “Pearson was wearing a diamond on that finger yesterday,” Jordan said.

  “Yeah. He asked Pete why someone might have attacked him, but Pete was evasive. Shay thinks Jordan would have a better chance getting him to open up. And by the time Pete gets out of surgery and recovery, Shay hopes to have a DNA report from the lab on those cigarette butts.”

  “He left cigarette butts behind and let himself be seen by the vic?” D.C. shook his head sadly.

  “Shay doesn’t want to arrest Pearson or even alert him until he has all his evidentiary ducks in a row.”

  “I can’t fault him there,” D.C. said with a shrug. “You do want him to pay.”

  “I’d like to get my hands on him,” Cash said.

  There was an angry edge in his tone that had Jordan staring at him. It wasn’t often that Cash let his laid-back facade crack.

  “Do you think this Pearson will be at the jewelry show?” D.C. asked.

  “He said he would stop by,” Jordan said. “Margo may drag him along with her.”

  D.C. smiled at Cash. “That will give us some time to get a little proactive and see what else we can learn before Alvarez arrests him.”

  Cash’s eyes narrowed. “You have a plan?”

  D.C. spread his hands palms down on the table. “I have an idea. My leg kept waking me up, so while I waited to fall back asleep, I started thinking. One of the things we want to know is if Daniel Pearson has a specific client who wants to buy Maddie’s ranch. I’m betting he does.”

  Cash nodded his agreement.

  “A client who had knowledge of the turquoise mine we speculate might exist,” D.C. continued. “Otherwise, why would Pearson develop and execute this elaborate plan of escalating vandalism to pressure Maddie into listing the ranch? Especially a ranch that was already struggling to keep afloat.”

  “That makes sense,” Jordan said. “And as far as we know, Pete is the only person who might be able to confirm the existence of such an untapped mine.”

  “Exactly. While we’re waiting for that, my plan is to put some pressure on Pearson. I’m wondering what he would do if he learned he had some competition—someone else who wanted to buy the ranch.”

  “Who?” Jordan asked.

  “None other than one of my buddies during my last tour in Iraq. Greg Majors. His father is rolling in oil money. He’s back home now and is always looking for some kind of investment or other.”

  Cash’s eyes narrowed. “And Greg is going to go along with this?”

  “Nah,” D.C. said. “We’re just going to pretend he is. I’ll impersonate him, walk up to Jordan’s booth, turn on my Texas charm and give her an outrageous offer for the ranch. We just want to spook Pearson. I’m betting if he’s threatened or if he thinks there might be a bidding war on the ranch, he’ll call his client ASAP. Then we steal his cell and get the number.”

  There was silence in the room for several seconds.

  “It sounds crazy, but it might work,” Cash said. “Who’s going to lift the cell?”

  D.C. grinned. “I think I can handle it. The cane gives me the perfect excuse to stumble up against him.”

  Jordan looked from one man to the other. “You two are serious.”

  D.C. turned to her. “It will give us something to do besides sit on our hands while we wait for Shay to get his evidence in order.”

  “I have plenty to do representing Maddie’s jewelry,” Jordan said.

  “And you can still do it,” Cash said. “It shouldn’t interfere with the show at all. We’ll work around you.”

  She wasn’t going to talk them out of it. She could see it in their eyes. They reminded her of two boys planning some mischief on the playground. Except this was for real. And there was a killer out there.

  Cash reached over and took her hand. “We’re going to need to know who Pearson’s client is. He or she may be the missing dots that we need to complete picture. And until we get that picture, yours and Maddie’s lives are still in danger.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said. “But I have a suggestion, something I’d like to modify about your scenario.”

  “What?” D.C. asked.

  Leaning forward, she told them.

  CASH STOOD at the back of Jordan’s booth. From where he’d positioned himself, he could see anyone who approached her. He also had a good view of the entrance to the hotel’s exhibition hall. The transformation that had taken place in the past twenty hours or so was nothing short of a miracle.

  The chaos of yesterday had vanished. In its place were neat rows of booths, two running the length of the room, the others stationed at intervals along three
sides. Jordan’s occupied a central position along the back wall.

  In a corner close to the entrance, overstuffed sofas and chairs were clustered and flanked by carved wooden tables. Diagonally across the huge hall from the seating area were tables covered in white linen and laden with trays of chilled fruit, water bottles and coffee. The necks of champagne bottles peeped invitingly out of huge silver buckets. In another corner of the room, a string quartet played something classical and muted.

  Jordan stood a few feet away from him, totally focused on adding the final touches to her display. She’d gotten her request for two glass cases, and it had taken her a good ten minutes to arrange the silk scarves she’d brought. Now she was fiddling with the jewelry. She was being as meticulous with the display as her sister had been in designing the pieces.

  Cash was willing to bet that even her outfit had been chosen with the idea of marketing Maddie’s pieces. The colors were muted, khaki and white, making the green turquoise dangling from her ears and around her throat stand out even more.

  A man in a discreet suit walked by. His eyes never strayed to Jordan’s display cases; they were scanning the room. Hotel security, Cash decided.

  At the moment, D.C. had tucked himself behind the back wall and was doing some research on his laptop. He’d insisted on driving behind them into Santa Fe in his rental car. That way he could provide some extra protection in case anyone tried something along the road. From what Cash could tell, the man never seemed to take a break. He’d asked to be informed the instant Daniel Pearson appeared. Then he would slip out a back way and return through the main entrance as Greg Majors.

  For his part, Cash was content to lean against the wall and just keep watch. It was five minutes until the show opened to the public. Exhibitors with catalogs in hand strolled by, greeted old friends and browsed the displays of newcomers.

  Lea had come by earlier to report that her grandfather had been lucid and in good spirits when they’d wheeled him off to the OR. That Pete Blackthorn was alive was a miracle.

  When Jordan straightened and backed away a step from the case, he moved to her. “Three minutes until show time.”

  “I’m ready.”

  He ran a finger down the bright slivers of turquoise dangling from her ear. “I never doubted it.”

  She glanced back at the glass cases. “Her designs are so lovely.”

  Cash studied the display. In each case, she’d clustered pieces in three areas. In one, a circle of earrings and a trio of bracelets were arranged at each end. In the other, a group of pins sat at one end while tie clips and hammered silver belt buckles filled the other. Center stage in each glass case was a necklace.

  On his left sat a simple chain of hammered silver rings. The pendant hanging from it was a star studded with turquoise ranging in shades from green to bright blue. The other necklace was made of turquoise beads in varying shades, with an intricately designed silver pendant that made him think of a breastplate a female warrior might wear into battle. Feminine. Strong.

  “She’s so talented.” Jordan’s voice was laced with pride as she tapped her finger on the top of the case holding the warrior piece. “This one’s my favorite.”

  “I like it, too.”

  When she turned back to him, he gave her earring a flick. “You’re not a bit jealous of her, are you?”

  She stared at him. “Why would I be?”

  “Because she obviously inherited your mother’s gift for design.”

  A frown formed on her forehead. “I’m happy for her. I just regret that she and my mother will never get a chance to meet. It’s such a waste. All the while I was working on this display, I kept thinking my mother had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing Maddie when they split us up. But it didn’t work out that way. I feel so bad for Maddie. For my mother, too.”

  It was his turn to frown. “What about you, Jordan? Don’t you wish you’d grown up here in Santa Fe with your father?”

  She thought for a minute. Cash could almost hear the wheels turning. Then she shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t grown up with my mother. I regret that I never knew Mike Farrell, but now that I know the ranch exists, I’ll visit often.”

  Fear rushed through Cash in such a torrent that he very nearly grabbed her. She spoke so calmly of returning to her life in New York. Couldn’t she see that she belonged here in Santa Fe just as much as Maddie did? But at that moment, the doors opened and the first wave of customers poured through. Turning, he let her words echo in his mind.

  I’ll visit it often.

  Could he be happy with that?

  STRING MUSIC and ripples of conversation filled the exhibition hall as dealers wove their way from booth to booth. It was two hours into the show and Jordan was almost ready to relax. She’d collected several business cards, answered the same questions over and over and taken dozens of orders. Once she’d noted that the potential clients were especially interested in the jewelry pieces she wore, she’d started rotating other bracelets and earrings from the display cases. But she hadn’t disturbed the necklaces. They were generating interest right where they were.

  No one as yet had suspected she wasn’t Maddie. More importantly, they loved her sister’s designs. True, her smile was beginning to ache at the corners of her mouth, but thanks to Maddie’s sensible taste in shoes, her feet were still fine.

  Then she spotted a man coming toward her with a beaming smile on his face. Obviously, he knew Maddie but she was coming up blank. She shot a glance back at Cash. He’d helped her out before, but as the visitor moved toward her, Cash said softly, “Don’t have a clue.”

  The man was small and round, with rimless glasses perched on his nose. He had kind eyes, and she saw in them the light of an old friendship. Who was he?

  “Ms. Farrell.” He extended his hand and she shook it.

  “Maddie,” she said automatically. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Ah, there they are.” Perhaps it was the slight Hispanic accent or maybe it was the way he leaned over to study the necklace centered in the first case, but the memory slipped into place. This had to be Joe Manuelo, the man who cut and polished Maddie’s stones. Maddie had explained in her notes that when she got stones from a mine, she always took them to Manuelo, whose family had been in the business for years, and he often visited her shows.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured as he glanced up at her again. “Could I hold it?”

  “Of course, Mr. Manuelo.”

  “Joe.”

  She beamed a smile at him as she opened the case and lifted it out. He took it carefully, then holding it in one hand, he removed his glasses and studied it more closely. “Are you happy with the way I cut the stones?”

  “Thrilled. You did a marvelous job.”

  “Thank you.” He handed her back the necklace. “I like to see what happens to the stones after they leave my shop. I admire the way you’ve mixed the various shades. But you have old Pete to thank for the quality of the stones. What you’ve been sending me lately—the hardness, the quality—are exceptional. It makes my work easy.”

  Of course, he would know Pete Blackthorn was her source, Jordan thought. “Pete’s been hurt.”

  Joe Manuelo immediately frowned. “Hurt? How badly?” Jordan told him what she knew.

  “Someone pushed him off a cliff?” There was a mix of shock and anger on his face.

  “That’s what we think. The police are looking into it.”

  “They’d better find out who did it.”

  “Lea Dashee might know the latest on his condition.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Farrell. I had it in mind to look at some of her designs. too.” With a final nod, he hurried off in the direction of Lea’s booth.

  She felt Cash’s hands on her shoulders. “Pete has a lot of friends,” he said.

  “And at least one enemy,” she added.

  An hour later, the crowds had thinned. Cash assumed the dealers would be taking advantage of the buffet lunc
h the hotel was providing for them. Then, according to Jordan, they’d be back for a final push. He studied her as she switched the necklace and earrings she was wearing for a new set from the cases.

  Whatever nerves she might have had at the beginning of the show had faded. When she talked about Maddie’s designs, there was an energy that emanated from her. She might not be a designer, but she knew how to talk the talk. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was enjoying herself. No one watching her would ever suspect that her life and her sister’s had been threatened more than once in the past twenty-four hours. By any standards, she was a remarkable woman.

  He’d moved forward to tell her just that when he saw Daniel Pearson and Margo Lawson entering the exhibition hall. Margo had her nose in the catalog, and by the time she pointed in their direction, Daniel had already spotted them.

  Cash backed up, slipped one hand behind him, and tapped lightly on the wall of the booth. “Showtime, D.C.” Then he leaned back and prepared to enjoy himself.

  Three hours of handling dealers and gawkers had brought color to Jordan’s cheeks. She looked perfectly at ease as Margo and Pearson reached her booth. Margo sent him a look, but then she leaned over the case to study the collection. Clearly, she was focused on business before pleasure.

  Pearson barely glanced at the display cases before he took one of Jordan’s hands. The diamond on his pinky finger caught the light. “Lovely job. Our dinner reservations are for six-thirty here in the hotel. I thought after the show, you’d enjoy someplace close.”

  And the sooner he could get her signature on the dotted line, the better, Cash thought. He’d been working Maddie for months. Why the sudden rush? Perhaps the answer to that question lay in the little charade they were about to enact.

  When he realized his hands had fisted, Cash relaxed them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw D.C. making his way toward them. The only thing that Cash didn’t like about the little scenario Jordan and D.C. had finally decided on was that his job wasn’t a more active one. He was supposed to observe Pearson’s reactions.