She looked Tipton square in the eye. “Something from your estate sales, perhaps. An emerald, for my birth month. Mounted in gold.”
Her birthday was in November, and the stone for that month was topaz. She hoped Hunter hadn’t assimilated that bit of trivia. The jeweler had, of course, but he once again proved himself the soul of discretion.
“I believe we might have just the ring for you.”
He lifted a house phone and issued a brief instruction. Moments later, an assistant appeared and deposited an intricately wrought ring on the display pad.
Thin ropes of gold were interwoven to form a wide band. An opaque Russian emerald nested in the center of the band. The milky green stone was the size and shape of a small gumball. When Sarah turned the ring over, she spotted a rose carved into the stone’s flat bottom.
Someone with no knowledge of antique jewelry might scrunch their noses at the overly fussy setting and occluded gemstone. All Sarah knew was that she had to wear Grandmama’s last and most precious jewel, if only for a week or so. Her heart aching, she turned to Dev.
“This is the one.”
He tried to look pleased with her choice but didn’t quite get there. The price the manager quoted only increased his doubts. Even fifteen-karat Russian emeralds didn’t come anywhere close to the market value of a flawless three-or four-karat diamond.
“Are you sure this is the ring you want?”
“Yes.”
Shrugging, he extracted an American Express card from his wallet. When Tipton disappeared to process the card, he picked up the ring and started to slip it on Sarah’s finger.
ZZ stopped him cold. “Hold it!”
Dev’s blue eyes went glacial. “Let us know when you’re ready.”
“Yeah, yeah, just hang on a sec.”
ZZ thrust out a light meter, scowled at the reading and barked orders to his assistant. After a good five minutes spent adjusting reflectors and falloff lights, they were finally ready.
“Go,” the photographer ordered.
Dev slipped the ring on Sarah’s finger. It slid over her knuckle easily, and the band came to rest at the base of her finger as though it had been sized especially for her.
“Good. Good.” ZZ clicked a dozen fast shots. “Look up at him, Sarah. Give him some eye sex.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks but she lifted her gaze. Dev wore a cynical expression for a second or two before exchanging it for one more lover-like.
Lights heated the room. Reflectors flashed. The camera shutter snapped and spit.
“Good. Good. Now let’s have the big smooch. Make it hot, you two.”
Tight lines appeared at the corners of Dev’s mouth. For a moment he looked as though he intended to tell ZZ to take his zoom lens and shove it. Then he rose to his feet with lazy grace and held out a hand to Sarah.
“We’ll have to try this without an audience sometime,” he murmured as she joined him. “For now, though...”
She was better prepared this time. She didn’t stiffen when he slid an arm around her waist. Didn’t object when he curled his other hand under her chin and tipped her face to his. Yet the feel of his mouth, the taste and the scent of him, sent tiny shock waves rippling through her entire body.
A lyric from an old song darted into her mind. Something about getting lost in his kiss. That was exactly how she felt as his mouth moved over hers.
“Good. Good.”
More rapid-fire clicks, more flashes. Finally ZZ was done. He squinted at the digital screen and ran through the entire sequence of images before he gave a thumbs-up.
“Got some great shots here. I’ll edit ’em and email you the best, Sarah. Just be sure to credit me if you use ’em on your bridal website.”
Right. Like that was going to happen. Still trying to recover from her second session in Devon Hunter’s arms, Sarah merely nodded.
While ZZ and his assistant packed up, Dev checked his watch. “Do you want to grab lunch before I take you home to pack?”
Sarah thought for a moment. Her number-one priority right now was finding some way to break the news to the duchess that her eldest granddaughter had become engaged to a man she’d met only a few days ago. She needed a plausible explanation. One that wouldn’t trigger Charlotte’s instant suspicion. Or worse, so much worse, make her heart stutter.
Sarah’s glance dropped to the emerald. The stone’s cloudy beauty gave her the bravado to respond to Dev’s question with a completely false sense of confidence.
“Let’s have lunch with Grandmama and Maria. We’ll make it a small celebration in honor of the occasion, then I’ll pack.”
Dev had employed a cautious, scope-out-the-territory approach for his first encounter with the duchess. For the second, he decided on a preemptive strike. As soon as he and Sarah were in the limo and headed uptown, he initiated his plan of attack.
“Do you need to call your grandmother and let her know we’re coming?”
“Yes, I should.” She slipped her phone out of her purse. “And I’ll ask Maria to put together a quick lunch.”
“No need. I’ll take care of that. Does the duchess like caviar?”
“Yes,” Sarah replied, a question in her eyes as he palmed his own phone, “but only Caspian Sea osetra. She thinks beluga is too salty and sevruga too fishy.”
“What about Maria? Does she have a favorite delicacy?”
She had to think for a moment. “Well, on All Saints Day she always makes fiambre.”
“What’s that?”
“A chilled salad with fifty or so ingredients. Why?” she asked as he hit a speed-dial key. “What are you...?”
He held up a hand, signaling her to wait, and issued a quick order. “I need a champagne brunch for four, delivered to Ms. St. Sebastian’s home address in a half hour. Start with osetra caviar and whatever you can find that’s close to... Hang on.” He looked to Sarah. “What was that again?”
“Fiambre.”
“Fiambre. It’s a salad...Hell, I don’t know...Right. Right. Half an hour.”
Sarah was staring at him when he cut the connection. “Who was that?”
“My executive assistant.”
“She’s here, in New York?”
“It’s a he. Patrick Donovan. We used to fly together.
