over one hundred carats in the rough. Stones lost a lot of weight in the cutting, especially if the cutter wanted several diamonds from the one stone. Some cutters went for weight, which did not necessarily correlate to value; fire and brilliance came from the shape the cutter chose.
In this case, the cutter had done a masterful job, realising a creditable thirty-eight carats in total. This, along with the name and the legend, accorded the stones a massive price tag. The last big intense pink Quinn could recall coming up for auction several years ago—an unnamed twenty carat, pear-shaped beauty—fetched six million dollars. The Blackstone Rose diamonds could sell for as much as half a million dollars per carat, more if they were sold together.
Although laser identification wasn’t around when the stones were cut, the Blackstone Rose’s thief must have sold the big stone on the black market for it to have disappeared without a trace. Quinn had extensive connections, and there was always someone who could be persuaded to sell information about less-reputable art and gem collectors. A pink of this size would cause comment wherever it turned up.
Quinn hung up, thinking that his whole existence lately—professional and personal—seemed to be tied up with the Blackstone and Hammond families. First Matt and the pink diamonds, now his enforced cohabitation with Danielle Hammond. His very personal existence stirred again when he recalled the desire in her eyes a few minutes ago, heard the huskiness of her voice. He knew that he was destined to spend another night alone in his bed, dreaming about her intriguing face and lithe body.
He would have Dani Hammond, he decided. It would help while away the hours in this sauna until he could return to civilisation.
He grinned as he stripped and slid between the sheets, allowing himself the uncharitable thought that tupping Howard Blackstone’s little girl would be like thumbing his nose at the old man, dead or not. That would be twice in a month he’d shafted the old goat. Howard must have turned in his freshly dug grave when the Blackstone Rose diamonds came full circle to a Hammond again.
Four
Soon after 6:00 a.m., an ungodly time for her, Dani crept out of the house to watch the sun rise over the beach. The tide was high and the temperature around twenty. Yawning widely, she stumbled through the ten-metre stretch of trees that fringed the beach, then slipped off her sandals and carried them down to test the water.
The physical response she’d had to Quinn in the workroom had played on her mind all night. Her fumbling efforts to gloss over it, knowing he’d noticed her tongue practically hanging out, made it ten times worse.
This man was not her friend. More than that, he already had a woman, a special woman, judging by the value of the gift he was having made for her. But why did he have to be so gorgeous? How was she to exist under the same roof for the next two to three weeks without succumbing to his charms?
She knew how. Remember Nick … remember the humiliation.
The water licked around her toes, a cool surprise, reminding her that winter was on its way. She remembered a cool winter’s day two years ago. On cue, her cheeks burned for no one but her and the breeze as she walked on deserted Four Mile Beach. Nick had nearly finished her.
Dani should have known better, even back then. Twenty-five was hardly wet behind the ears. Nick had wined and dined her, swept her off her feet in an indecently short time. Promised love and marriage and forever. And even though she’d lived all her life in a fishbowl being targeted by the Sydney tabloids, she trusted him.
Until the day she’d left the house to go to a wedding dress fitting and found ten journalists camped outside the gate in the rain. To this day, Dani loathed large black umbrellas. They reminded her of vultures waiting for someone to die.
The journalists gleefully filled her in on the details. While she’d been sitting at home happily planning her wedding, Nick had been entertaining a well-known soap actress in an alleyway beside a nightclub. The photographs were pornographic. When confronted, the louse drunkenly accused Dani of misrepresenting her position in the Blackstone family. It had finally sunk in, despite her repeated insistence, that far from being an heiress, his fiancée was penniless and illegitimate.
Howard came to her rescue, just as he had for her mother years before. Dani wanted nothing more than to disappear. A few months backpacking around Asia eased her pain a little but caused her mother tremendous worry. Tired of the constant media scrutiny, she refused to return to Sydney, and Howard agreed to bankroll her business here in Port, where no one knew or cared that she was Danielle Hammond of Blackstone fame.
The sunrise was beautiful, reminding her of why she loved this place. She filled her lungs with sea air, knowing she had to resist Quinn, because if she didn’t, there would be far worse heartache than Nick had inflicted. And that would spoil this beautiful place for her forever.
She turned around at the halfway point, feeling stronger and determined to finish this job quickly and eliminate the temptation. But her heart fluttered as a figure in blue shorts and a black sleeveless T-shirt jogged leisurely toward her. She had forgotten he liked to run in the early morning before the heat and humidity gained purchase.
Quinn slowed as she approached. “Too hot to sleep?”
Whether it was there or not, Dani imagined a sardonic twist to his mouth, and her hope that he would ignore her stammering reaction to him last night faded. He knew. And he wanted her to know he knew.
“Have a good run,” she said as politely as she could muster, still walking steadily toward the turnoff through the trees.
But Quinn began jogging backward, facing her. “Did you know Matt Hammond is coming to town?”
That was unexpected. She slowed. “No, I didn’t.”
Dani had never met Matt in person. He’d attended Howard’s funeral in February but kept an icy distance from the family. She’d wanted to introduce herself but decided, under the circumstances, to present a united front with the family of the man who had raised her.
She’d met Matt’s brother Jarrod a couple of times and liked him immensely. But Matt was understandably bitter about Marise’s presence on the ill-fated plane and her inclusion in the diamond magnate’s will. Especially when a lot of the bad press zeroed in on the paternity of little Blake, Matt and Marise’s son.
“How did you know that?” Dani asked.
“He called last night.”
“Called you?” She frowned.
Quinn stopped jogging and propped his foot on a half-buried log to retie his laces. “We’re both in the gem trade. That’s not so odd, is it?”
Dani hovered nearby, curious.
“When I told him where I was, he said he was on his way here himself. I assumed, since you’re his cousin, it was to see you.”
She shook her head. “He wouldn’t come here to see me.”
Quinn utilised the log to stretch his calf muscles. Dani couldn’t help but notice the dark hair salting his long strong legs.
She wrenched her mind back to Matt. Why would he seek her out? And what was his business with Quinn? A mutual dislike of Howard Blackstone was their only connection as far as she could see. “What exactly is your business with Matt?”
Quinn
