to sarcasm. “You’re a little unobservant, Mr. Everard. Do you have a photo, perhaps?”
His mouth quirked. “Red. Dark red.” He pursed his lips, wondering when she would twig. “Curly.”
Her brows arched up to kiss the edge of the bandanna.
“Rather multifaceted in style,” Quinn went on, warming to his task. “Unconventional, definitely. Some would say bohemian, but that’s not it … She’s like no one else.” And that was the truth. Her use of colour, breaking all the fashion rules, should have offended a conservative like himself, yet somehow, it charmed the hell out of him. Living with Danielle Hammond, he knew, would never be boring.
Dani pursed her lips sternly. “You have good taste in women, Mr. Everard,” she told him smartly, and put the camera down with a sharp thud. “Contemporary bling, then, for the lady.”
“Knock yourself out.” Quinn pushed himself away from the doorjamb, trying not to be horrified about her terminology in reference to this diamond. He’d spent hours trying to talk his client out of this, citing Danielle’s age and inexperience.
Surprisingly though, he smiled all the way down the hall, pleased with himself, and with her. Maybe the next few weeks wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Dani Hammond had a bite to her. She seemed smart—almost street-smart—and Quinn knew all about that.
But how did she, with her luxurious upbringing?
Sightings of Dani were scarce the next couple of days as she immersed herself in her design. She worked late and rose late. Mid-morning she would request he bring the diamond to the workroom. He restored it to the safe on his way to bed. He kept the refrigerator stocked and was thankfully spared the ignominy of standing by the window like a Peeping Tom, because she didn’t use the pool again. Most of the food he prepared went to waste as she said she was too busy to be hungry. Despite himself, and without seeing any tangible results yet, he was impressed by her dedication.
The third night, she joined him for dinner, an impressive meal catered by one of Port Douglas’s surprisingly fine restaurants.
“Why me?” she asked over coffee. “You must know twenty world-class designers who would gnaw off their right hand to ingratiate themselves with you.”
He tapped his teaspoon lightly on the cup, giving a brief smile. “But not you.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll mess up your precious diamond out of spite since you’re blackmailing me?”
“Then I would have to mess up your reputation.”
“Haven’t you already?” She raised and crooked her two index fingers in a parody of speech marks. “‘Ms. Hammond has passable talent but chooses to use it working for chain stores….’”
Quinn rubbed his ear, amused. That was one of his missives in the DiamondWorld Monthly about a year ago. She’d had the cheek to respond in the next issue. He’d retaliated by saying she was “one step up from a Sunday-market vendor in a one-horse town, pandering to the tourist buses.”
“A mere dent, which doesn’t seem to have harmed you at all. Although, why you would shut yourself away up here in the middle of nowhere is anyone’s guess.”
“Another snobby Sydney-sider,” she sighed, giving him the impression this wasn’t the first time she’d had this conversation. “I like the tropics.”
“What’s to like? A beach you can’t swim in because of the stingers …”
“Only for a few months …”
“Insufferably hot and sticky weather …”
“I like it probably for all the reasons you don’t. Especially now in cyclone season.”
So the lady was into sultry, steamy nights. He sniffed and rubbed his jaw, clamping down on where that thought would take him. “Bugs and snakes …”
“You get those in Sydney,” she countered.
“Not in my neighbourhood, you don’t.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” she muttered under her breath.
He ignored that. “No shopping to speak of. Is there actually any nightlife in town or does it shut down at five-thirty?”
“Remind me to take you cane toad racing while you’re here,” she said, then smiled wryly and leaned her elbows on the table edge. “Laid-back it might be, but there’s an interesting dynamic of village charm and sophistication here. Port is famous for its restaurants and you never know which Hollywood stars or ex-American president you’ll bump into around town or checking out the reef in their big chartered yachts.”
His fingers tapped the tabletop, drawing her glance. “We know you like to play with the rich and famous, but you’re limiting your opportunities here, Danielle. Why is that?”
“I do all right, and don’t call me Danielle.”
He inclined his head. “And ‘all right’ is enough?”
“For now.” She sipped her coffee. “Tell me about you and Howard.”
“You don’t know?” he asked, surprised.
Dani shook her head. “I was at uni around that time. All I know is, he bristled every time your name came up.”
That didn’t surprise him. Back then, Howard Blackstone had thrown his whole vindictive weight against the young broker from the wrong side of the tracks. “I was just starting out,” he began. Laura, his wife, was sick. His whole world was going to hell.
“Howard wanted to be nominated as the Australian representative to the new World Association of Diamonds. Everyone had finally woken up to the fact that our industry, the diamond trade, was subsidising wars in Africa.”
“Conflict diamonds.” Dani nodded. “What good could some worldwide association do against the one or two massive conglomerates who control the mines?”
Sharp, he thought, but then she had grown up in Australia’s foremost mining family. “The association has definitely raised awareness. Even America, the largest bastion of consumerism, reports that a high percentage of people in the market ask for certification that their diamond is conflict-free.”
“A certificate’s only as good as the person who completes it,” she stated, again rousing grudging admiration for her appraisal of a very grey area.
“So, the feud?” Dani prompted.
Quinn pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back. “Blackstone wined and dined me. He wanted my vote. I suppose he could have got the impression I was a solid bet, but in the end, a fellow broker asked and my vote went his way. To be honest, I expected Howard to romp in, with or without me.”
“But he didn’t.” Dani nodded. “He likes—liked—getting his own way.”
Quinn wondered about the relationship between her and Australia’s King of Diamonds. “He lost the nomination by one vote, and took it a lot more personally than it warranted.”
“Let me guess. You were off the Christmas card list.”
Well and truly, Quinn thought grimly. Howard’s wrath nearly sent him to the wall with his financiers. “He banned me from accessing the Blackstone mines. I had to borrow heavily to source the stones I needed offshore.”
If it hadn’t been for one or two friends in high places—notably Sir John Knowles, owner of the diamond upstairs—Quinn’s fledgling business wouldn’t have survived.
Dani whistled. “That must have hurt. The broker with no diamonds.”
“It put me in a very bad situation,” he agreed.
She glanced around the room, her eyes resting on a magenta orchid in the corner. “It doesn’t seem to have had any long-term consequences.”
“No