# The Diamond Secret

Lenora Worth

A DANGEROUS MANHe’s a pirate, an adventurer—and Esther Carlisle had just let him into her New Orleans antique shop. Cullen Murphy claims he knew Esther’s late father…and that her wild-dreaming daddy discovered the true location of the legendary chocolate diamond. Esther knows she should show the handsome treasure hunter the door. And she will. In a minute.Everything changes when gun-wielding thugs barge in and start shooting. Esther may not trust Cullen, yet staying at his side is the only way for her to find the diamond first—and stay alive. But some treasures can only be found with the heart….

A dangerous man

He’s a pirate, an adventurer—and Esther Carlisle has just let him into her New Orleans antiques shop. Cullen Murphy claims he knew Esther’s late father…and that her wild-dreaming daddy discovered the true location of the legendary chocolate diamond. Esther knows she should show the handsome treasure hunter the door. And she will. In a minute. Everything changes when gun-wielding thugs barge in and start shooting. Esther may not trust Cullen, yet staying at his side is the only way for her to find the diamond first—and stay alive. But some treasures can be found only with the heart....

“Listen to me.”

“Some very dangerous people know about the chocolate diamond. If I hadn’t reached you first, it would be even worse, trust me. And you do need to trust me, do you understand?”

Trust him? Cullen had come in here demanding a hunk of a diamond that she figured didn’t even exist and now he had thugs looking for him and this alleged diamond and he wanted her to trust him? Right.

She stared up at him. She could imagine him doing bad things, very bad things. He had that kind of look about him. Half treasure hunter, half pirate. All male.

“I won’t go anywhere with you,” she said, wondering about the lesser of two evils.

He sighed. “I don’t have time to argue with you. If you don’t do as I say, they will either torture you or kill you. Or both.”

The banging ended and the sound of crashing glass took its place.

“What’s it going to be, Esther?”

LENORA WORTH

has written more than forty books for three different publishers. Her career with Love Inspired Books spans close to fifteen years. In February 2011 her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence made the New York Times bestseller list. Her very first Love Inspired title, The Wedding Quilt, won Affaire de Coeur’s Best Inspirational for 1997, and Logan’s Child won an RT Book Reviews Best Love Inspired for 1998. With millions of books in print, Lenora continues to write for the Love Inspired and Love Inspired Suspense lines. For years Lenora also wrote a weekly opinion column for the local paper and worked freelance with a local magazine. She has now turned to full-time fiction writing and enjoying adventures with her retired husband, Don. Married for thirty-six years, they have two grown children. Lenora enjoys writing, reading and shopping…especially shoe shopping.

The Diamond Secret

Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I will give you treasures that are hidden away

in dark places. I will give you riches

that are stored up in secret places.

—Isaiah 45:3

To my editor, Patience Bloom. Thanks for encouraging me, believing in me and letting me have fun with words. You are a true precious jewel!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

ONE

Somewhere in the Quarter, a lonely saxophone wailed a bluesy tune.

Esther Carlisle listened to the sweet notes hitting the late-afternoon wind, then glanced at the pendulum clock ticking away the seconds behind the counter. Soon all of the clocks would start chiming the top of the hour.

Time to close up shop and go home. Or maybe, go upstairs to the apartment she’d inherited along with this shop after her father had died last year. She’d managed to avoid the apartment for months. But Carlisle Collectibles had become her life lately. Royal Street had always been her street anyway since she’d grown up hanging out here in this big, rambling shop. She knew the shopkeepers, and even the homeless people, by name. And she could set her own antique pendant watch by that saxophone player’s daily schedule. Harold was a war veteran. He slept until the sun started settling behind the buildings then got up to fill the night with notes. His soulful melody merged with the sound of voices carrying out on the street and the honking of horns up on Canal.

He’d probably never understand why Esther prayed for him on a daily basis. But he did seem to understand that she was aware of him, since she often placed dollar bills in his open saxophone case. Her devout father had taught her the golden rule, after all. In return, because Esther tried to be kind to all she met, the rough, quirky crowd in the Quarter watched over her.

“Another quiet summer day in the French Quarter,” she said, the echo of her statement hitting the high rafters and the tall windows to reflect back on her while the clocks kept on tick, tick, ticking all around her.

The pendulums would always swing back. Tomorrow, she’d have some time off to work in her big studio in the Garden District, to create art out of broken pieces of life. One of her sculptures was on display in the front window of the shop. The whimsical piece she called Wasted Time was made from old watches, ancient keys and intricate antique glass doorknobs of various shapes and sizes. It represented missed opportunities and time passing without change.

It also represented her mood these days.

The phone rang, jarring her back to the here and now.

“Esther, how was your day?”

Mr. Reynolds, from next door. He always called to check on her. Especially when he knew her assistant, Ted, wasn’t in.

“I’m good. A slow day here. How about you?”

“A few takers,” the distinguished history buff replied. “Sold a few soldiers. Had a few lookers—one in particular. Bought a nice 1858 Remington revolver.”

“Wow, that’s a true gun buff, Mr. Reynolds.”

They had a friendly competition going since they both carried antique weaponry.

“Yes. He was a very interesting man. Surprised he didn’t come down your way.”

“Nope. I’m about to close.”

Esther hung up, then finished tallying the receipts of the day, worried because she’d had so few visitors. But things would pick up later in the season. Right now, she only wanted to lock up and head home for some dinner and a cup of tea. Maybe she’d read that book she’d found at the bookstore down the way. Or maybe go into the tiny courtyard studio she’d set up out back and work on one of her less complicated pieces. She could go to the potluck supper held in the tiny chapel near her home in the Garden District. Or she could tackle all the papers and unopened mail that had been piling up on her father’s rolltop desk.

Humming “Unforgettable” along with the saxophone, Esther walked up the planked aisle, her footsteps marking time along with the clocks, and pushed at the rickety old glass paneled door.

A hand shoved at the outside knob.

She glanced up to see the silhouette of a tall man wearing a snazzy fedora. A chunky cover of dark bangs hid his eyes, but she didn’t miss the flash of a smile and the gleam of white teeth. “Wait, may I come in?”

Esther stopped, stared, shook her head. “Sorry, I’m closing for the day.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s five o’clock.”

The man stood back to read the sign on the door. “You close at five. It’s five till.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Esther stepped back. “Give me a break, will you? I’m tired. I’ll be back tomorrow at nine, I promise.”

He put his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging with authority against his black T-shirt. “Give me a break. I’ve traveled a long way to get here.”

Okay, he had an intriguing accent. Irish maybe? And he did have that whole Indiana Jones thing down pretty good. The fedora was classic and classy and old and worn enough to be endearing. The black T-shirt looked to be made of silk. And the slightly worn khaki cargo pants could have stepped right out of a J. Peterman catalogue. As well as the buttery leather travel satchel swung over his shoulder. His broad, nice-looking shoulder. Which was underneath his interesting, scarred face and ink-washed black hair and those oh-so-gray-blue eyes that seemed to zoom in on Esther. And how could she miss the self-assured grin he wore with all the finesse of a pirate.

An adventurer? A pirate? Or someone pretending to be something he could never be? Like her dear, departed father.

“We’re closed,” she said again. But she didn’t try to shut the door in his face. His bronzed, sun-crinkled, mighty fine-looking face. Was she so pathetic that she’d fall for that face and let him in so he could spend an hour of her precious time walking the aisles in search of something old that he wouldn’t buy anyway?

“I need to ask you a few questions, Miss Carlisle.”

Shocked, she stood her ground. “You know my name. Why don’t I know yours?”

He shot her a swagger of a grin. “Probably because I haven’t properly introduced myself. Cullen Murphy.” He glanced up and down the busy street, intensity misting around him like humidity. “May I please come in? I’ll only be a minute or two.”

“Uh-huh.” She’d heard that before. Collectors, by nature, could never spend a minute or two in an antiques shop. Carlisle Collectibles had a good reputation for carrying the finest antiques, estate jewelry and trinkets, so anyone coming here would want to explore until their heart’s content.

But she wasn’t sure yet about this one. Did he have a heart underneath all that manly ruggedness? Or had she read one too many romance novels?

He didn’t move to leave.

She didn’t move to let him in.

“This is really important,” he finally said, edginess cutting through his voice. “I can’t come back tomorrow.”

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“Who said I was looking for anything?”

“You surely didn’t come here to chat with me, right?”

“Uh, no. Not that that wouldn’t be pleasant. I’d like to talk to you, but I’m kind of in a rush.”

She waited.

“Okay, I need to see your vintage diamond collection.”

That surprised her. “Which one? We have several.”

“Persia. Circa 1500 B.C.”

Something akin to a warning tickled her spine. Esther stepped back a pace and the door creaked open before she could stop it. “That is way vintage. You must be joking.” She hoped so. She didn’t like where her thoughts were taking her.

He was inside before she even blinked. “I can assure you, I’m not.” He immediately started looking over her, around her and through her. “I’ll only take a moment.”

“Yeah, I got that.” With a sigh and a bit of curiosity, she allowed him to stay. But she locked the door and put out the Closed sign anyway.

* * *

Cullen Murphy scanned the big, tastefully cluttered shop that was reputed to be one of the premiere antiques stores in New Orleans, maybe in the South, according to everything he’d heard from Jefferson Carlisle. But Cullen didn’t care about dainty teacups or two-hundred-year-old sideboards. He only had one prize in mind. This woman’s father had hidden that prize and Cullen had to find it before anyone else did. And since he had some very nasty people hot on his trail, now would be a good time.

If he could get past Lady Golden Eyes. She obviously had no clue why he was here. That was good, for her sake, at least. Giving her another covert glance, he noted that behind those granny glasses, she did indeed have golden eyes. And a cute little tulip of a face. Her long hair, tucked back from her face in an oh-so-proper coil at the nape of her kissable neck, sparkled with all the color of rich, shining copper while the scent of jasmine and spice sizzled all around her in an intoxicating cloud.

Why did he have to stop and smell the perfume?

No time for that kind of entertainment, however. He’d prepared himself for getting to know Esther Carlisle, but now he reminded himself he didn’t like emotional entanglements. So…on to the job.

He needed to find that diamond.

“If you could tell me why you’re here, Mr. Murphy…” she said from behind him, that exotic scent making him think of faraway places.

He turned, brusque and to the point. “Cullen, please. I’m an archaeologist and I also enjoy collecting rare jewelry, specifically diamonds.” Thankfully, these days he collected exotic gems the old-fashioned way—legally.

“You did mention diamonds,” she said, hurrying to the long jewelry counter, her every move as tightly coiled as the annoying, whining clocks lining the walls and shelves. “I’ll show you what I have and then, I’m closing. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand.

She took it, stared at it as if it were a snake and then shook it, her tiny grip surprisingly strong. “You said you’d come a long way?”

“Aye. All the way from Dublin, luv.”

Her catlike eyes widened at that. “Dublin, Ireland. Well, we have a couple of exquisite pieces reputed to be from Persia, very old and amazingly huge, but I don’t think we have anything dating back thirty-five hundred years. Most pieces such as that belong in a museum. Exactly what kind of diamond are you looking for?”

Cullen whirled and took off his hat, then dropped his satchel on the counter. “A chocolate one.”

* * *

Chocolate?

He did mean business. But surely he couldn’t be searching for the one diamond Esther had put out of her mind long ago. Chocolate diamonds, a rich sparkling golden-brown in color, were very rare indeed. Rare and beautiful. Her father had been fascinated with a certain rare chocolate diamond.

Esther pointed to her diamond collection on display in a glass-sealed, secure case. “I don’t know if I have any chocolates. They’re extremely hard to come by.”

While her handsome guest studied the sparkling jewels inside the locked cabinet, she studied him. He was all alpha male, stalking the jewels like a big cat. He seemed to fill the huge vastness of her shop, making everything shrink.

Especially her.

Esther felt tiny and invisible with such raw power crashing into her staid, boring world. The sound of the ticking clocks seemed to vanish into the dusty recesses of the building, only to be replaced with the drum, drum, drumming of his fingers against the double-paned glass. Was she having an incredible dream or was this man really flesh and blood? And could his purpose for being here center on a crazy folktale?

The very folktale that ultimately destroyed her father?

Confused but calm, she blinked and tried to assert her authority. “Can you describe this particular diamond?”

He stared into the lit showcase, the glow from the spotlights causing his dark face to look almost sardonic. Almost.

“It’s close to fifty carats, loose, not set. Rectangular in shape. Possibly a ragged-type rectangle.” He stood to turn toward her. “Have you ever heard of the chocolate diamond that was supposedly a part of the treasure the pirate Lafitte hid somewhere on Barataria Bay?”

Esther’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, that diamond.” Her worst assumptions had been confirmed. She grew warm. Her pulse beat a rapid path against her temples.

Her father had been obsessed with the stories of the ancient fifty-carat diamond. But he’d never been able to find it. Mainly because he’d never actually searched for it. He’d mostly enjoyed speculating about the myth and the legend of such a jewel, to the point of becoming completely obsessed. And quite ill before he’d died. How could she have forgotten all of his late-night stories and conspiracy theories?

Maybe because she’d blocked a lot of unpleasant memories? She’d certainly tried to put that particular bedtime story away for good. And that was the main reason she’d stayed away from his office upstairs.

“That’d be the one,” Cullen replied, intensity oozing out every pore. He studied her as if expecting her to jump up and down in delight. “I’ve done a lot of research and traced it back to Louisiana. Do you know of it?”

Esther almost giggled, but it was nervous laughter not happiness. “Everyone around here knows of it. But that’s a legend, part of the folklore that swirls around Lafitte.”

“I believe it exists,” Cullen said, his tone serious.

“I can see that,” Esther retorted, tired of this foolishness and determined not to get sucked into the absurd story again. “It might exist, but I can assure you I don’t have it here.” If her father had ever gotten up the gumption to search for the elusive diamond and if he’d found it, she would have known.

“I was told—”

Her heart did a little spin of a warning. “Whoever sent you here was mistaken.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, this is a very important diamond, a true piece of history.”

“I understand that, but I don’t have it. I’ve read about it, mostly from books and research my father gathered. He enjoyed musing about the diamond. It’s reputed to have possibly been one of the jewels on the garment of one of the high priest from the Twelve Tribes of Israel—the Levi tribe, I believe. In fact, my father called it the Levi-Lafitte Diamond.”

His eyes widened in appreciation. “You do know your stuff. While that has never been substantiated, there was a diamond on the second row of each of the breastplates. This particular chocolate could have been light in color, but still it’s what we now call a chocolate diamond.”

“Thanks,” she said with a tad more sarcasm than she’d intended. Of course, she knew her stuff. Her father had breathed these types of ridiculous tales and he’d often told them to her, always stressing that she shouldn’t repeat his theories. Her father, rest his sweet soul, had always been a speculative dreamer.

And so was the treasure seeker standing beside her. He leaned close, his eyes going velvety dark. “It’s rumored that Lafitte discovered that very diamond in his travels. Maybe stole it from a king or some exotic Persian prince. That’s the last place it was supposedly seen, hence the circa 1500 B.C.”

“And you think I have it because…?”

Cullen turned to stare at her, his fingers still tapping on the glass counter. “Because I knew your father. He was a brilliant historian and also a collector. I corresponded with him a lot before he died. He enjoyed discussing the possibilities of the diamond’s existence.” He paused. “I was sorry to hear of his heart attack.”

Touched, but shocked that this man had known her father and hadn’t told her that right away, Esther looked toward the back of the cavernous building. “Thank you. He got so sick, but he wouldn’t go to the doctor. He died here in the office, late one night.” Esther ignored the shiver moving down her spine.

Cullen glanced toward the door down the aisle. “A few months ago, right?”

“Yes. Back before Christmas of last year. A heart attack.” Why was he staring at her like that? And how did he know so much about her father?

“And you’re sure it was a heart attack?”

Growing more perturbed, she said, “Yes.”

“Did the authorities verify that?”

“Yes. He had a history of heart problems. What are you suggesting?” Esther didn’t want to discuss the details of her father’s sudden death with a stranger. Uneasy, she moved away. “I really need to close up now.”

Cullen glanced toward the front. “Please listen to me. Your father and I corresponded in detail about this diamond. Right before he died, he hinted that he might know its location. He planned to give me the details. But I never heard from him again and then I found out about his death. Did he ever mention anything about this to you?”

Angry now, Esther moved away. “You should have mentioned that you knew my father. But since you didn’t, I’ll fill in the blanks for you. Even though he did extensive research on it, I don’t know anything about this diamond. My father enjoyed theories, but he never actually went about trying to find the chocolate diamond. I think you need to leave, Mr. Murphy.”

She started toward the door.

Cullen grabbed his hat and bag and followed her. “Do you have another showcase? A hidden one? Or a safe where you keep the really good stuff?”

She did. But she wasn’t about to open it up to the likes of him, especially when she didn’t have her assistant here to watch the shop and serve as a protector. Besides, this man was too demanding and nosy. He made her uncomfortable. Chills chased the cold sweat running up and down her backbone.

“I don’t have the diamond you’re searching for,” she said, turning to hold the door open for him. “My father never mentioned finding it, so even if he did discover the diamond, as I said, I don’t have any information on it. I don’t even know if it’s real. I’m sorry you had to come all this way for nothing.”

He didn’t move to leave. “I have some of your father’s letters in my bag. I thought you might like to have them.”

Esther’s heart crashed and thumped. Her father, a faithful man and the only parent she’d ever known since her mother died during Esther’s birth, had made his living here in this dusty old shop, but he’d also had an adventurer’s soul. And yet he’d never traveled afar, because he couldn’t leave this shop or his daughter. Esther knew this, even if Jefferson Carlisle had never once said the words out loud.

She cleared her throat. “He used to read to me every night, grand adventures. Gulliver’s Travels, Sinbad, Homer’s Odyssey, The Three Musketeers, and Treasure Island, of course.” She looked at the battered bag, remembering how he used to call her a princess. A princess who lived in the white swamp. She pushed away the memories. “I would imagine his letters, even if technical, would be very colorful.”

“And very thorough,” Cullen replied. “I had to meet the daughter he loved so much.”

And find a diamond worth millions.

Maybe she had jumped to the wrong conclusion about him. Esther stood there, pondering what to do or say. She wasn’t used to a handsome stranger rushing into her shop, demanding rare fifty-carat diamonds. But she had heard her father mention the Levi-Lafitte Diamond over and over again. And always with that faraway look of adventure and intrigue in his eyes. He’d seemed frantic and obsessed with it in his last few months on earth. What if he had discovered something right before his death but hadn’t had a chance to tell her? Why had he never mentioned Cullen Murphy?

“Maybe you can come back tomorrow. If my father had the diamond or even knowledge of where it might be, he never indicated it to me.” Jefferson Carlisle hadn’t talked much about anything else other than business. Not even to his daughter. Besides, this particular diamond would be worth millions. Why would her father keep something so significant from his only daughter?

Cullen Murphy rocked on his worn boots. “I was hoping I could poke around tonight. If I find the diamond, I’m willing to make a deal with you regarding its worth.”

“I don’t allow poking around in my shop after hours, Mr. Murphy. And if I did have that diamond, it wouldn’t be for sale.”

His eyebrows dipped at that declaration. He put his hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping the shop with the sharpness of an eagle. “It is rather hard to see everything in this growing dusk. But you seem to have some wonderful collections. I’d like to go through those toy soldiers, too. And I see you also have a nice gun collection. I suppose I could come back tomorrow.”

Glad he seemed reasonable, Esther nodded. “We keep the low lights on all night. And the alarm.”

That made him grin. “Warning me against coming back later?”

“Just letting you know I have several security measures.”

He leaned close, his inky eyes swallowing her in a blue haze. “I’m well aware of your security measures.”

He had his nerve. As if she’d let him take a huge hunk of an historical diamond, anyway. A gem that rare and large would be worthy of some serious negotiations. Esther could barter and bargain with the best of them, so if he thought he could fool her, he was badly mistaken.

“Why don’t you come back tomorrow then? My assistant, Ted Dunbar, will be here, so I’ll be able to leave the front and help you. That way, you can spend all day ‘poking around,’ as you put it.”

“Thank you,” Cullen said, a look of relief washing his features. His eyes turned smoky. “It was nice to finally meet you.” He turned to leave then pivoted and dug inside his bag. “Here, the letters. This isn’t all of them, but he mentions you a lot in this batch.” Pulling out a leather pouch tied with a string, he handed it to her. “Your father adored you, you know.”

“I adored him, too.” Esther took the letters, her fingers touching on the leather. “Thank you.”

The bundle smelled of leather and musk. Moved to tears at the thought of reading her father’s words, she stiffened and waited for Cullen to step out, then went to lock the door once again, her brief brush with mystery and intrigue over for now. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.”

But Cullen suddenly shoved his way back in and grabbed her so fast, she spun around like a ballerina in a music box.

Giving him a push, she shouted, “What are you doing?”

He balanced her against his chest. His warm, broad chest. “We have a bit of trouble, luv.”

“Trouble?” Esther couldn’t comprehend what the man was talking about. She was too caught up in the worldly, earthy smell of him and his travel clothes. Heady stuff, this. Rich and dark and spicy—and dangerous.

Cullen kept moving her ahead of him. “Men, two of them. Big, ugly, mean men, coming up the street. I’m pretty sure they have guns.”

That got her attention. She pulled away and quickly locked the door.

Cullen tugged her toward the back before she could set the alarm. “We need to hide.”

“What? Why?” Her voice lifted with each tug of his hand. Clutching tightly to her father’s letters, she asked, “What do they want?”

He shot a covert look over his shoulder. “Me.” Then he whispered close, “Oh, and they might be looking for that diamond, too.”

TWO

“What do you mean, you?” And the diamond? “I don’t have that diamond.”

Esther glanced back and saw the shadows outside the door. Big, hulking shadows. Could this day get any worse?

Cullen shoved her toward the back. “I’ll explain later.”

She ground her loafers to a halt. “No, now. I can call the police, you know.” To prove that point, she reached inside the deep pocket of her flared skirt and pulled out her cell phone.

“No police. Not a good idea,” Cullen replied, dragging her with him in spite of her feet being practically glued to the floor. “This is too big, too dangerous. We can’t trust anyone.”

She had a finger on the Nine when the banging on the door started. “I won’t let them ruin my shop.”

He pulled her into a dark hallway and tugged her close, his breath fanning her now-disheveled hair. “Darlin’, you won’t be able to stop them. And better a ruined shop than the alternative.”

“But—”

“Listen to me, Esther. Some very dangerous people know about the chocolate diamond and they think your father had it. If I hadn’t reached you first, it would be even worse, trust me. And you do need to trust me, understand?”

Trust him? He’d come here demanding a diamond that she figured didn’t even exist, and now he had thugs looking for him and this alleged diamond and he wanted her to trust him instead of the police? Right.

“I don’t know you and I’ve had enough.” She tried to punch numbers. “I won’t stand for this.”

He took her phone away and tucked it into one of his many pockets. “No police. That could make things much worse.”

“Why? Because you’re actually a criminal and you lied to me about everything?”

He winced. “I used to be a criminal, but I’m reformed now. And technically, I haven’t lied about anything.”

She didn’t believe him. Except for the criminal part. She could imagine him doing bad things, very bad things. He had that kind of look about him. Half treasure hunter, half pirate. All male.

“I won’t go anywhere with you,” she said, wondering about the lesser of two evils. Should she pray for intervention or distraction?

He sighed and held her up like a rag doll, his eyes level with hers. “I don’t have time to argue with you. If you don’t do as I say, they will either torture you or kill you. Or both.”

The banging ended and the sound of crashing glass took its place.

“What’s it going to be, Esther?”

She stared up at the man holding her, her heart beating so fast she thought she was having an attack.

“What’s really going on here?” she shouted, her fingers digging into his shirt.

“More than I can explain right now,” he replied. “Now let’s get out of here.”

She heard the splintering of the two-hundred-year-old door and closed her eyes, willing this dream to be over. But it wasn’t. Cullen was still there when she opened her eyes. And she heard footsteps rushing through the shop.

“Do you have a back entrance?” he said, still dragging her along the wall, bumping her against old picture frames and antique wall sconces.

Apparently, he’d made her decision, Esther thought with each jump in her pulse. She was going with Cullen.

“Yes.” She bobbed her head, then motioned to a hallway beyond a door on the left. “It leads to the courtyard.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Esther heard more crashing and then chairs scraping with irritating force, followed by drawers being opened and dropped. The shattering of precious crystal almost caused her to run back to save her place of business.

“Don’t,” Cullen said, his gaze hitting her with a warning.

She hated the tears that burned at her eyes, but this was her life. Her only life. Her father had worked hard to build a solid reputation in the antiques and collectibles world and Esther had vowed to carry on that tradition. She’d given up almost everything else to hold on to this showroom. If she lost this place, where would she go? Certainly not to Great-Aunt Judith’s in Lake Charles. That woman might be her only living relative, but she was ancient and mean and she lived in a trailer with six cats.

They reached the door. Esther shoved the letters into Cullen’s hands so she could get to her keys.

“Hurry,” Cullen said, pushing her to unlock it. He put the letters in his big knapsack. “We need to hide somewhere.” Then he pulled out an intricate box and quickly opened it to reveal an exquisite pistol. “I bought this next door, but it’s not loaded.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing here, but I think they’ll probably shoot at us. They won’t kill us. They’ll want to question us about the diamond. But we can bluff our way out with this if we have to. Only use this gun if something happens to me. And make them think it’s loaded.”

They had real guns and he wanted her to fake her way out of this with an empty six-shooter?

“This cannot be happening,” Esther kept repeating, her key ring jingling, her body shaking with each thump and crash. “Not to me. I follow rules, Mr. Murphy. Rules.”

“Forget the rules,” Cullen said, his Irish accent on hard-drive. “And lock this door behind us. Right now, we need to find a way to stay alive.”

She secured the door, knowing it wouldn’t matter but it might buy them some time. Then she motioned to her studio. “We can hide in there. It has another entrance. To St. Peter Street. We might be able to get away and double back.”

He guided her to the old garage. “It looks rickety,” he said on a sharp breath. “And we don’t have time to get to the exit door. They’ll spot us.”

“Do you have any other ideas?” She heard more precious items breaking, more doors slamming, then the echo of excited voices. “Maybe we can make a run for it.”

“Let’s go,” he said, his hand on her arm. “We might be able to wait them out or we can take the side-street exit.”

He hurried her into the growing dusk but kept her close to the courtyard wall, without regard for her bougainvillea vine or her beloved ferns and begonias.

She didn’t know about him, but she wasn’t waiting around. She intended to get away from those goons and Cullen Murphy, too. And she would go to the police. Her shop was open now and vulnerable to looters. She had to do something.

Esther tried the door of the studio, her hands shaking. Cullen put his hands over hers, the heat of his skin shocking her. “Which key?”

She looked down at the big ring. “The silver one with the fleur-de-lis,” she said on a scattered whisper.

Cullen grabbed the key ring and fumbled with the door. They heard voices and more shouting and crashing.

Then across the way, the heavy back door to her storeroom and attached miniwarehouse crashed apart like a tinker toy. Esther squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the bullets. But Cullen had her inside the studio and back behind a work bench before she could catch her next breath.

“Don’t move,” he said, his body guarding her, hiding her, holding her. “Don’t even breathe.”

“That won’t be a problem,” she said between gasps. “I’m too scared.”

Even though she didn’t know the man and even though he’d brought trouble to her door, she said a silent prayer, thanking God that Cullen was here and blocking her from these people.

They waited, crouched on the floor, the shapes of her whimsical, mismatched sculptures all around them looking more like gargoyles and monsters than art. To calm herself, Esther thought back over her day. What about that nice couple from Illinois? Patt and Dave, yes. They loved antiques and also collected ceramics and glass, and had purchased several pieces, including a set of Roseville Bleeding Heart vases and an exquisite Depression glass pink bowl.

Esther heard voices followed by heavy footsteps. She was back inside the nightmare. So she prayed. Over and over.

Cullen tightened his grip. “Hold on.”

She did, her hand grasping his arm, taking in his strength. She had to depend on him to help her through this. But later, she’d let him have it with both barrels.

I’m strong, she thought, fear and shock making her want to giggle. I’ve managed to survive and keep on going, even when I’ve had no one. Well, not exactly no one. I have Aunt Judith at least. And sweet Mr. Reynolds and his wife from next door. And Harold the lonely saxophone player down the street. I have Ted, of course. Her one loyal employee and occasional dinner companion. Ted had been sick today, but he sure wouldn’t be happy come tomorrow. Their insurance would skyrocket. Ted had been her father’s right-hand man. He always focused on the bottom line.

Esther prayed while she waited. Please, Lord, let this be a dream. Let me wake up, right now.

The footsteps drew closer and from her vantage point inside the old workroom, Esther could see that the two men searching for them did indeed have guns. Ugly, skinny-barreled guns. She prayed Cullen’s sleek but ancient weapon would at least scare them.

“They have silencers,” he said on a whisper, probably to remind her of the danger. Then he looked at the empty gun in his hand. “While I love this sweet Remington, I think I’m gonna need to use my 9 mm SIG-Sauer. It’s fully loaded.”

The man had two guns? She supposed that was a good thing. Or maybe that confirmed that he was truly a bad person.

Cullen put a finger to his mouth to warn her and then he placed the Remington back in its case and set it out of the way. She watched as he pulled out another gun and did a few clicks and loads. What all did he have in that travel bag?

Because she had no one else to turn to right now, Esther stayed there beside him, her gaze hitting on the banana-leaf fronds swaying in the humid air, her nostrils taking in the sweet scents of jasmine and wisteria, mingled with the faint scent of perspiration. She heard the steady trickle of water coming out of the twisted metal fountain sculpture she’d made three years ago. Her courtyard had always been her haven.

Now she’d never look at it in the same way again.

The men kept coming until they’d reached the glass-paned doors of the studio. One of them, looking like a hulking giant, pressed his big nose to the door and stared in. Esther hissed, but Cullen held her tightly against him behind the big sturdy work bench, as if his body would keep her invisible. She found that rather endearing in spite of her wobbly heart and weak knees.

“Hey, Murphy, you in there?”

“They speak,” she said on a low, trembling whisper. “And, surprise, they know you.”

“Yes, they know me,” he said, bobbing his head. “They want the diamond. Must have followed me across the globe. As if I’d hand it over to Hogan and his men.”

Hogan. Why did that name sound familiar? Esther closed her eyes, wishing for her hot tea. Wishing this hot diamond hunter shielding her would go away. But not until he made those bad guys go away, too.

Tugging at his shirt, she asked, “Who is Hogan?”

He shoved the Remington case at her. “I’ll explain later.”

When the other man rushed to the door and shook the knob, Cullen turned toward her and opened the case. “Remember, this might buy you some time. Where is the street entrance?”

She motioned with her head, then whispered, “Behind us to the left.”

“It’s locked?”

“Of course.”

“We need a distraction.”

He glanced around and saw her blow torch.

Esther’s gaze followed him. “Oh, no. You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will, to save your life.”

And then, he was up and like a gunslinger, swinging around in a poetic kind of warrior way to grab her blow torch and wield it high in front of him.

While the doors to her studio burst apart and fell away like shattered memories.

* * *

Cullen knew she was scared, but he needed Esther to help him get them out of this situation. “Run for the door,” he shouted at the same time he started firing.

The two men broke apart and dropped down with guns blazing, but Cullen kept advancing, zigzagging behind tables and half-finished sculpture pieces. Somehow through the haze of darkness and with the blessing of surprise on his side, he managed to stay out of the line of fire.

He had the SIG-Sauer in one hand and the blow torch in the other. He triggered the gun, marveling at the way it hissed in his right hand. The blow torch did the same in his left, sending a white-hot heat toward the two bumbling thugs. He wasn’t really aiming for anyone in particular. He mainly wanted to scare these two so Esther could get away. Which was probably what she’d been hoping for all along. She’d be gone in a flash, but at least she’d be safe. Or she might use his unusable, unloaded Remington six-shooter on him—hitting him over the head.

“Go, Esther!”

But prim little Esther surprised him.

“Not without you,” she shouted, the big gun in her tiny hand.

She headed for the locked door, but instead of testing the six-shooter, she managed to find a few ceramic pots and other interesting weapons along the way. And in spite of being a little spit of a thing, the woman had an impressive aim. She heaved a pot, followed by a crude-looking knife that could only be some sort of sculpture tool. While neither made a direct hit, her projectiles did stop the two attackers from advancing. Then she lifted the Remington with both hands, as if she actually knew what she was doing. It didn’t fire, of course.

This might turn out to be fun, if he didn’t die.

More importantly, all fun and frolic aside, he couldn’t let Esther Carlisle die. He’d made a promise to her father that he’d protect her. Cullen wasn’t known for keeping promises, but this one was important to the tune of millions of dollars. It had taken him several months and a whole lot of territory to finally make it here to fulfill that promise. He wasn’t about to give in so easily now.

So he shot one last flare from the blow torch and glanced back to see Esther standing at the open door, her hands frozen in place on the Remington. Then he dropped the torch and used both hands to hold the gun steady as he went after the two men.

And this time, he aimed to kill.

* * *

Esther’s heart seemed to hit with all the velocity of those zinging bullets. She heard the sound of traffic and people, heard that sweet saxophone playing up near the café. She sent out a prayer that they would all be safe.

“Cullen, hurry,” she called, wanting with every fiber of her being to run. The exquisite gun she held was useless, but it gave her a sense of security. Besides, she was pretty sure it could still be dangerous, even with an empty chamber.

No matter, she couldn’t leave him.

And that made her more angry than frightened. Why was she willing to stand here and be killed for a man who’d crashed into her world without explanation and changed it without any apparent qualms? Because, he brought her father’s letters with him. That meant for some strange reason her father had reached out to this man, had trusted him. Maybe Cullen had some answers. Answers she needed, since her father hadn’t confided in her about much of anything.

Cringing as he ducked, Esther watched Cullen shooting his way across her studio. So far, so good. Then she heard sirens.

“Cullen, someone must have called the police.” Mr. Reynolds, obviously. His hearing was remarkable for a seventy-year-old. And his wife, Helen, was spry and sharp and interested in the things going on around her. Esther hoped neither of them decided to pop over and investigate.

Cullen hurried to the door, then turned to fire a couple more shots. At least the two men were pinned down at the front of the studio. Probably with singed eyebrows and burning skin.

Cullen rushed her out the door and closed it tight, locking it to be double sure. Then he slipped the pistol back in the shoulder bag he’d managed to hang on to and handed her back her phone. “I think you had a call.”

Shocked at how efficiently the man multitasked during a shoot-out, she gave him the extra gun and took the phone. “It’s Ted. He’s my bookkeeper and sales associate. He was sick today so he’s probably calling to see how my day went.”

Cullen did a quick scan of the nearby buildings as they headed east up St. Peter toward the Mississippi River. Off to the left the St. Louis Cathedral was bathed in the golden light of dusk. And directly across, Jackson Square teemed with tourists and locals alike. Nobody seemed to care that shots had been fired and sirens were wailing.

“What are you going to tell him?”

Esther lifted her brows, took a deep breath, then punched numbers. “That everything is fine, thank you.”

But in her heart, she had a funny feeling that everything wasn’t fine. In fact, holding on to the handsome, capable, daring man who’d done his best to protect her—after he’d ruined her day and her shop—she was pretty sure her life had changed forever.

And the scary part? She’d never felt more alive.

THREE

“Ted, tell the police it was a break-in. I’d locked the door but hadn’t set the alarm. Two men came in and started shooting, but I ran to the back and hid in the studio. Then I managed to get away.”

She heard Ted’s deep exhale. “They shot at you? I can’t believe this. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to reassure him. “Check on Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds for me. I’m headed back there now. I’ll come around front.”

“Good, because I got here and the police are asking all sorts of questions. And Mr. Reynolds is talking to them right now. Of course, Miss Helen is telling anyone who’ll listen that we all almost got murdered. But are you okay? I mean, really okay?”

Ted fretted about things, especially her health and well-being. “I’m fine but rattled. I could have stayed to fight them but they had guns and I—”

She stopped, refusing to lie, but she’d also left out the part about the handsome tomb raider who’d helped her escape, and Esther was glad of that for now. She’d have to tell Ted about that later, when her assistant wasn’t about to hyperventilate. Later, when she could think straight.

Of course, if Helen Reynolds had seen Cullen, the whole city would know about him soon enough.

She hung up, then stared at Cullen. “I have to go file a police report. I can’t hide this from them. This is my livelihood and I’ll have to file an insurance report.”

He did another scan of the area. “Okay. I get that. But we need to talk.”

“Yes, I’m all ears,” she retorted. “I think you have more on your travel itinerary than searching for diamonds, right?”

He didn’t even bother trying to look innocent. “Yes, and I’ll explain. But not here, okay? Is there someplace besides your shop where we can meet back up? Maybe somewhere I can hide out for a while?”

Esther shivered in spite of the warm night. Her clothes were dirty and rumpled, her hair falling down around her face. She wanted a bath and a cup of tea and…she wanted to wake up with her shop back intact and her brain less jumbled.

She should tell him to take a hike, but she was in this up to her neck now. And she wanted answers. “I have another place in the Garden District. My father lived over the shop, but I live in a studio apartment behind an estate house.” She thought about hiding Cullen in the space over the shop, but she didn’t like the idea of him snooping around up there. “My place is on Prytania Street. You can stay there until I get finished, but I’d rather not have another shoot-out.”

“I promise if anyone shows up, I’ll draw them away from the house,” he said, his blue-gray eyes washing over her like a storm. “Will your landlord mind?

“No.” She wasn’t about to tell him that her friend relied on Esther’s discretion. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” she said. She couldn’t risk anything happening to Lara’s second home in the United States. “Can’t you find a hotel?”

“They’d check all the hotels.”

“Who are they? Who is Hogan?” She knew she’d heard that name before.

“Not here,” he said, pulling her through the crowd. “It’s too risky.”

He tugged her toward the corner, then glanced into the crowd. “They must have split once they heard the sirens. I’ll shadow you back to your shop, then I’ll find my way to your other house. Do you have a key?”

She gave him the address and told him where to find the spare key. “I have an alarm, but it’s one of those kind that alerts me, not the police or a security company,” she explained. Then she whispered the code. Grabbing him by the arm, she leaned close. “Cullen, don’t make me regret this.”

As if sensing her concerns, he reached into his bag and brought out the small worn leather pouch again. “Your father’s letters. You can read them later, but for now that’s all the proof you need in order to trust me.”

Esther touched the rough dark leather, the warmth from Cullen’s body still on it. “Thank you—again.” She noticed the street sign at the corner of St. Peter and Royal. “We can part here. The shop is right up there.”

He nodded. “I’ll watch until I see you with the police. I’ll be waiting, Esther. It’s not safe for you here alone.”

He looked as if he didn’t want to leave. “Go,” she said, her heart flooding with gratitude. But her head still buzzed with questions. So she headed toward Carlisle Collectibles and braced herself for what she might find.

And she prayed Cullen would make it to the Garden District safely.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

Esther rubbed her temple and nodded at Ted. “Other than a couple of scratches and getting hot and dirty, I’m okay. I have a headache, but I’m fine, really.”

Mr. Reynolds stood outside the office door. “Esther, I heard all the shooting. ’Bout scared the daylights outta me. I called the police right away.”

“Thank you,” she told the elderly merchant. “I’m so glad you didn’t get caught in the cross fire.” Then she glanced beyond him. “Where’s Miss Helen?”

“Oh, she went back to our shop to tell our employees what happened and caution them. She saw several strangers hanging around today.”

Esther’s heart skipped a beat on that one. “Really? Did she talk to the police?”

“She tried, but she didn’t have enough of a description to really help, I’m afraid. She wasn’t wearing her bifocals.”

Esther couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that washed over her.

Ted watched Esther with his intense brown eyes, his bi-focals and spiky dirty-blond hair intact. Ted was a worrier. He fretted about money. He paced when they didn’t get many customers. He was always rearranging things and searching out every nook and cranny to make sure they could make a good impression on their devoted, long-standing clients. But he was good at his job and he had always been devoted to Esther and her father.

He sank down in a chair across from her after Mr. Reynolds left. “Tired of all the questions from the police?”

Esther leaned back in the red leather armchair, her gaze moving over the uniformed officers roaming around the shop. “They’re doing their jobs.”

The intruders had broken most of the items along the main aisle. A few vases and knickknacks, some picture frames and lamps—some expensive and some for show. They’d overturned chairs and ripped out the stuffing, and shot open some of the cabinet locks. And they’d tried without success to break the shatter-proof glass surrounding the estate jewelry. They’d wanted something they couldn’t find in that case, however.

Cullen and that diamond, no doubt.

Thus proving what Cullen had told her. At least they had not found the safe and her secret stash of exquisite jewels. Good thing, since the Levi-Lafitte Diamond wasn’t there, either.

“They destroyed the office,” she said, knowing she sounded redundant since the desk drawers were open and gaping and most of her papers and books were tossed to the far walls. She wanted to get back to Cullen so she could get to the bottom of this mess. But sitting here, she couldn’t help but notice the broken frame that covered the only picture her father had kept of him with her mother. According to her father, Marilyn had been five months pregnant with Esther when the picture was taken.

Ted pushed at his glasses and coughed. Then he picked up the shattered picture and set it back on the desk. “A break-in. Esther, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this.”

Mr. Reynolds came back, surprising her with a bottle of water. “Here, honey. Drink this.”

Esther took the offering, glad she had people who cared about her. “Thank you.” She smiled up at both men. “I’m okay, really. We’ve been blessed. We’ve never been robbed before.”

Esther glanced out into the shop, watching as uniformed officers and plainclothes detectives went about their work and instructed the crime scene investigators. She’d gone round and round with the first officer on the scene to get Ted

and Mr. Reynolds in the barricaded front door. They couldn’t straighten things up until the crime scene people had dusted everything for prints and extracted a few bullets. Standard procedure, according to the dour officer in charge. But there wasn’t much hope of finding anything that would lead them to the men who’d done this, also according to that same officer.

Like Miss Helen, Esther hadn’t been able to give very much of a description, either. She might have to go into the station and look through mug shots. Not that that would help. Big and burly was the only way to describe those two. If they’d truly followed Cullen across the universe, they could be international criminals. And he might be, too, for that matter. But she had no idea how to explain that to the nice officers and detectives. They’d laugh if she told them about a giant ancient chocolate diamond, too.

Her father would be so disappointed in her right now. Withholding information from the police went against Carlisle standards.

“So you didn’t get a good look?” Mr. Reynolds asked. He was obviously afraid the thugs would come back to finish the job. Or maybe rob him next time.

“I don’t remember details,” she said.

Ted patted her hand. “Maybe you’ll remember something later.”

“I saw two big men dressed in black and carrying guns. But I took off before they got up close. I was running for my life so I didn’t stop to get a picture.”

“I’m sorry, Esther.” Ted plopped down on a stool near her feet, then looked up at her with those puppy-dog brown eyes. “I should have been here to protect you.”

She almost laughed, hysterically. Ted was about as puny as they came. He was a sweetheart and a devoted employee, but he had severe allergies and he was terrified of everything from spiders to shoplifters. She probably would have wound up protecting him.

“No, I’m glad you weren’t here,” she said, meaning it. “I managed to get away and that’s the important thing.”

Ted didn’t seem convinced. “I’ll go out and see if I can help with anything.” He turned to Mr. Reynolds. “Thanks for calling 911.”

Esther nodded. “Yes, thank you so much. I panicked. By the time I was safe, the sirens were already wailing.”

One of the officers approached her after Ted went out into the shop. “So you were closing up for the day, right?”

“Yes,” she said, standing to face him. “I had one late customer who wanted to look at some jewelry, but he didn’t find what he was looking for.”

That was the truth. But she couldn’t allow for any more information. Or should she give the police Cullen’s name and description and be done with it?

Her head shouted yes, but her heart screamed no.

“Did you know this customer? Is he a regular?”

“No. He was traveling through.”

The officer looked skeptical. “He could have been a front—a distraction.”

Esther thought about that, but why would Cullen need to distract her? He had a gun and so did those men. They’d fired at Cullen. Had that all been a show for her? To convince her to listen to him and trust him?

“I don’t know,” she said, being honest on that account at least.

“Did you find anything missing from the jewel cabinets?” she asked the officer instead.

“Come see for yourself,” the young officer replied. “Looks like they tried to shoot the lock, but the glass held. Must be some powerful glass.”

“We have some very rare, one-of-a-kind jewels,” she replied, motioning to Ted and hoping he’d go into the storage room and check the vault behind the secret wall her father had built years ago. She discreetly pointed to the storage room door.

Ted dashed away while she talked to the police. Esther studied the three main jewel cases, each ring and brooch, each elegant necklace and sparkling bracelet with matching earrings etched in her brain. “Nothing’s missing that I can tell.”

The officers nodded, wrote in their little notebooks, then suggested she padlock the doors for the night.

Ted came back up the aisle and helped her. “Safe is intact,” he said under his breath.

One of the officers approached them. “You can call the alarm company first thing tomorrow, but for now you need to do something to protect your property.”

“We can use the hurricane shutters,” Ted suggested. “You know, we’ll put up that plywood we used when the last big one came through, on the inside of the door. Then if we tug the shutters closed and lock them. I can sleep down in the showroom.”

“No,” Esther said, startling not only Ted but a nearby officer. “I don’t think you should stay here tonight.”

“You shouldn’t stay here alone,” Mr. Reynolds said from his spot near the broken doors. He hovered, worry on his aged face. “Wanna come over to our apartment?”

Esther would have, under any other circumstances. The couple attended her church and treated her like their own daughter. She could use that kind of comfort tonight. “Thanks, but no. I’m going home. I’m exhausted.”

Esther had to get rid of the police and Ted before she could meet up with Cullen. She had to find out the whole story about this mess.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll stay at my own apartment tonight. Surely they won’t go there.”

“Can you call a friend?” the officer suggested.

Ted bobbed his head. “One of your church friends maybe.”

She almost laughed at the irony of that. Cullen probably hadn’t graced a church door his whole life. But her friend and absent landlord, Lara, was a devout churchgoer. She’d be safe in her studio at Lara’s private compound. Only, Lara wasn’t in the States right now. But what about Cullen Murphy? Would she be safe with him?

“I’ll be okay at my place.” She waited for the police to finish up, then turned to Ted. “Now we’ll need the hammer, some nails and that plywood. And you know I’ll need you to help me pull the storm shutters down. I always have trouble with that.”

Esther had learned years ago that keeping Ted busy was the best thing for her sanity and his. He hurried to his tasks.

“I’ll help,” Mr. Reynolds said, hobbling to catch up with Ted, his red bow tie askew.

“Do you know of anyone who’s angry with you? Or out to do you in?” the officer in charge asked, his thick New Orleans accent sliding over the quiet office.

“No, sir.”

“Have you ever seen the two men who came in here before today?”

“No, sir. Never.”

He scowled, doubt clearly written all over his face. “Think hard. You might know them and not realize it.”

Why did police officers always seem so jaded and cynical?

Maybe because, here in this city, they saw pretty much everything?

“I can assure you, I don’t know them.”

“If you remember anything else, let us know,” the officer said. Then he and his men finished up their business.

Two hours later, Esther felt guilt tickling at her conscience when she finally convinced Mr. Reynolds to go home and told Ted they’d done all they could for now. They’d cleared up some of the debris and secured the doors and rechecked the inventory. The safe hadn’t been touched.

“I rode my bike to work this morning, but maybe I’ll take a cab home,” she told Ted. At least she had her car at the carriage-house apartment.

Ted held his hands against his waist. “Want me to ride with you?”

Then she’d feel obligated to invite him in and she couldn’t do that. Not tonight. “No. I’m really tired. And you’re still sick from that cold. You need to rest, too.”

He gave her a disappointed nod. “You’ll call me if you need anything, right?”

“Of course. I promise.”

Ted found her a cab, then stood on the street corner watching as the car pulled away. He waved and she turned and waved out the back window, thankful for having someone to help her through this. Had she mentioned her late-day customer to Ted? She couldn’t remember. She’d have to tell him about Cullen sooner or later. Esther put that out of her mind, however.

Even though she was exhausted, she was eager to have a sit-down with Cullen Murphy and find out the real reason he’d disrupted her life.

Because things weren’t adding up. He’d come to the shop searching for the diamond, but he thought the diamond could possibly be buried in the swamp. He claimed he’d corresponded with her father, yet Esther had never before seen a letter come in from Cullen. Did he have a map? Had her father sent him clues? Or had her father kept things from her, maybe even a post office box?

Her father had never once mentioned he had someone else interested in this quest for the Levi-Lafitte Diamond. But then, Jefferson Carlisle hadn’t been a man of many words. He’d done his fatherly duties by teaching Esther right from wrong, reading to her from her favorite books when she was younger and spinning tales to entertain her when they were both lonely. Then he’d given her a solid art-and-history education at Tulane.

Her father had been quiet, studious and dependable. And lost in the world of antiques and rare jewels. Esther felt he would have told her of his discovery, since he did often talk about the possibility of finding the diamond. It had been a constant subject in the weeks before his death, to the point of making him ill. But he’d never once mentioned that he might have found the diamond.

What were you hiding, Father? she silently wondered. And more to the point now, what was Cullen Murphy hiding?

FOUR

Cullen watched Esther coming out the back door of the boarded-up shop, the squirrelly man who must be Ted with her. Together they worked to put a padlock on the broken door. Esther held a flashlight while Ted wrestled with the chain and lock. Cullen’s first instinct was to go and help, but he was here only to make sure Esther got safely to the Garden District.

He couldn’t leave her behind to the mercy of Charles Hogan’s dangerous men. Those men would be back. They’d been chasing Cullen for months, but he’d always managed to shake them off. Hogan fancied himself a serious collector, but the man wouldn’t know taste if it bit him in the ear. He wanted the chocolate diamond, though. That much Cullen knew. And if he knew Hogan, the man didn’t just want to show off the diamond in some glassed-in display.

Hogan ran with a nefarious crowd. If he wanted the diamond, it couldn’t be for good. Cullen had heard tales of gunrunning and illegal weapons, maybe even drug smuggling. And now he’d brought Hogan’s men right to Esther’s door. It was up to him to find that diamond before they did and to protect Esther, too. Not exactly what he’d had in mind when coming to New Orleans.

The best-laid plans…

After Esther and Skinny Ted locked everything up tight, Cullen followed them out onto the street next to the on-site studio. If she planned to walk, he’d be right behind her. If Skinny planned to tag along, Cullen would be right there behind him, too.

They talked back and forth in what looked like an argumentative way and then Ted hailed a taxi and opened the door for Esther. Ted watched until she was in the cab, then reluctantly turned and hurried in the other direction.

Cullen started running to catch up. The cab stopped at the corner of St. Peter and Royal up near the square. Cullen slapped the window next to Esther.

She glanced up in fear, followed by shock, followed by dread. He had that effect on women.

“Hi,” he said as he slid in beside her. “Long time, no see.”

She glanced at the confused cabbie. “He’s a friend. Go ahead.” Then she leaned close. “You were supposed to be at the other studio. Didn’t I give you directions?”

Cullen saw the fatigue in her eyes. She wasn’t used to dealing with the likes of him. Her innocence made him feel bad about all the secrecy and shooting. “You gave me wonderful directions,” he said, taking his hat off so he could scissor his fingers through his hair. “But I wasn’t about to leave you alone back there.”

“You’ve been—”

“Watching,” he said, the one word a whisper. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“How nice of you.” She pushed at runaway strands of silky russet-and-copper tresses. “Considering that I was all set to go home to a nice bubble bath and a good cup of Earl Grey before you dashed into my shop and brought thugs with you, I’d say keeping me safe is the last thing on your mind.”

Ouch. Cullen held a hand to his heart. “Wow, I felt that arrow. Your aim is perfect.”

She lowered her voice, her eyes flashing fire. “My aim is to make you see that you are a dangerous man. I should make you get out of this cab right now, but I want answers. I wasn’t honest with the police or my assistant because I want answers, so I get first dibs on questioning you. If that diamond is out there and someone unscrupulous—besides you, of course—is after it then I have to stop them. It belongs in a museum, not in the hands of greedy people.”

Her sharp, disapproving glance told him he ranked high in that category.

Now would probably not be the best time to tell her that, well, yes, he wanted the diamond all for himself. It was worth millions. Auctioned off to the highest bidder, that little bauble could bring Cullen a fortune. And that fortune could give him endless possibilities, careerwise.

But the lovely lass sitting beside him like a stiff doll wouldn’t see things that way. He was in more trouble than he’d realized. He found a lady with a conscience. This could get messy.

“What a mess,” she said, her words eerily echoing his thoughts. “I don’t have that diamond, but thanks to you, someone thinks I might. Do you think they’ll come back?”

Cullen nodded. “If they know I’m still here, yes. I’m after the diamond. They want to get to it before me. Or rather, use me to find it.”

She slanted him a golden-eyed look. “Did you know those men were chasing you before or after you darkened my door?”

He cleared his throat and glanced at the traffic moving along St. Charles Avenue. “I might have suspected it a bit, luv.”

“You knew,” she said. “You knew and you didn’t bother to warn me at all. What kind of man are you?”

He leaned in close, his whisper partly a warning and partly a suggestion. “The kind you should never let into your shop.”

* * *

She should probably not let him into her apartment, either. Or her life. But he’d started this and she needed his help to finish it. So she turned at the French doors of the two-bedroom studio inside the grounds of the wedding-cake-white mansion that belonged to her friend Lara Barrington Kincade. Long and narrow and two-storied with a quaint little balcony off the top floor, the apartment had once been a carriage house. The workshop off the kitchen and bedroom used to house horses and carriages, and later, fancy cars. Now it was full of light and roomy enough to hold Esther’s equipment and supplies.

Until now, Esther had loved this place. She’d always felt safe here inside the massive compound. She’d never do anything to jeopardize her friendship with Lara. But bringing Cullen Murphy here might do that.

“You get one chance, Cullen. One more chance to tell me what’s going on.” She opened the door and waved him inside. “I don’t suffer fools easily. If I don’t like what I hear, I will be forced to alert the local authorities.”

Cullen looked around and smiled. “Charming.”

Esther agreed, thinking, even though his gaze swept over her rather than his surroundings, surely he was referring to the apartment. “Are we clear?”

“As clear as that exquisite Irish crystal in the hutch,” he said, pointing to a long display cabinet by the dining table.

“Good.” Esther took a calming breath. “My friend was kind enough to let me rent this for as long as I need it. I love her quirky decorating style and how the light plays through all the windows. It’s my getaway from the Quarter. It’s quiet here, especially when she’s in Europe. I’d like to keep it that way.”

He gave her a curious nod, then stood near the white leather sofa to admire an abstract painting by a local artist. “A very generous friend.”

“Yes,” she retorted, her tone brooking no argument. “Part of our agreement for me to live here and keep an eye on things was discretion, one hundred percent discretion. I aim to honor that.”

“Noble of you.” He looked bemused but didn’t press her for more details. “Friends such as you are hard to come by.”

“And people like you are hard to understand.”

“You have a dazzling wit about you, luv.”

She grinned at that. “Sit down and I’ll find us something to eat.”

“I am starving,” Cullen said. “I had a long flight and an even longer layover in Atlanta. American airports are as tedious as an ancient dig and not at all as exciting.”

Esther took that in but decided she’d drill him after they’d both had time to catch their breaths. But instead of sitting, he paced and checked, going from window to window, his actions calculated and precise. And nerve-racking.

“You think they’ll show up here?” she asked while she made turkey sandwiches and sliced fruit and cheese.

“I don’t know. No one followed the taxi as far as I could tell. But all of these windows—”

“I have a good alarm system.”

“They’d know how to disarm it.”

“Is that your way of trying to calm me down?”

“I’m being realistic. I brought this on you, Esther. So I intend to protect you. I’m sorry.”

She stopped spreading mayo and stared over the white marble counter at him. He seemed sincere, but it could be an act. “What if you were in on the whole thing?”

He glowered. “Is that what you’re asking?”

She frowned. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? You did say you used to be a criminal.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t in on anything. I had one purpose—to see if you had the diamond. I’m strictly legal now. I was willing to split the sale fifty-fifty, same as what I talked about with your father. But I’m not willing to see you get hurt.”

She slapped bread together and slid the plate with his sandwich toward him, purposely trying to ignore the little shiver of endearment that danced down her spine. Cullen had a way of looking at her that left her unsettled and completely confused. But he needed to explain how deeply her father had been invested in finding this diamond. “Sit down and we’ll talk.”

After pouring them both iced tea, in two vintage crystal goblets, Esther sat across from him, her fingers playing with the fringe on the bright blue place mats. “My father always wanted to find the diamond. But he was more of a dreamer than a doer, so I find it hard to believe he actually acted on his dreams. He never quite got over my mother’s death.” She shrugged, pushed at her hair. “And then, he had me to deal with, of course.”

Cullen drank down some tea then looked over at her. “But he loved you. You’ll see that when you read his letters. He always told me if anything happened to him, to make sure you got the letters back. I think it was his indirect way of having a record of his feelings. And maybe other things.” He shot her a glance that bordered on a plea.

Had her father brought Cullen here as some sort of matchmaking ploy? Or maybe so she’d have a good friend. She was alone in the world, but perfectly capable of providing for herself. She didn’t need a babysitter or a bodyguard.

But maybe her father had planned on this. Maybe he’d deliberately cultivated a relationship with a handpicked companion. After all, her father had tried hard to control her every move when she was younger.

Ridiculous. Her father wouldn’t have done anything so crazy. But he would have thought about the diamond and keeping her from danger. So…Cullen was her protector?

Double ridiculous.

“He never spoke about his feelings. He kept everything buried inside while he obsessed about other things.” The jealousy she felt at Cullen’s closeness with her father stuck in her throat, stifling her breath. She grabbed a strawberry to wash it away. “I shouldn’t resent you, but I do for some reason.”

“I never would have guessed,” he replied, his tone soft, his eyes dark and intense with sympathy and concern. “His focus was on research and discovery, nothing more. But I do feel as if I know you already, having read those letters.”

Esther felt the heat of that admission move down her body. She did not blush becomingly, but she couldn’t stop the flush of warmth covering her face. Blotches of red would soon follow.

Squaring her shoulders, she asked, “What do you think you know?”

He smiled, bit into a big green grape. “I know that you love reading classic romance novels, especially rare first editions. I know that you have a keen fascination for all things old and interesting, like your parents did. I know that you wanted to be a sculpture artist and that you are, but you’re tied to that antiques shop out of a sense of duty and obligation. However, you’ve had several very good showings, critically acclaimed exhibits where some pieces sold to a couple of very famous people, or so I’ve heard. Impressive.”

She stiffened again. He couldn’t know that one of those sculptures sat in the entryway of the main house here. Intimate Images. It was an abstract of love, life and joy, forged in steel and stone—the way true love was forged. Lara, a true romantic, had loved it on sight.

Esther put that out of her mind for now. “I manage to handle both my art and the shop, thank you very much.”

He lifted his finger and trailed it over her knuckles, the electricity of his touch shocking her. “No need to get all testy, luv. You are, after all, noble. It’s refreshing.”

She used anger to cover gratitude. “Why don’t you stop analyzing me and explain yourself?”

He grinned. “I did not know that talking about yourself would make you so uncomfortable.”

“Well, now you do. But having you explain things to me might make me more open to discussing the intimate details of my life—which you seem to know already anyway.”

He sat back on the sleek white bar stool, his aggravatingly rugged presence overshadowing the art deco kitchen. “Okay, here’s the story. I was born and raised in Dublin, Ireland. I’m the middle child of three. We didn’t have much growing up, but we all worked hard. My father was strict and quiet, until he drank and then he was loud and mean. My mother was loving and sweet. She’s still alive. He is not. I have an older sister and a younger sister. I was always intrigued by the past, so I studied history and archaeology in college—I worked my way through college, by the way. But I fell in with a bad lot and got in a spot of trouble.”

“Criminal trouble?”

“Yes. I worked for a man who had no scruples.”

“But you stopped working for this man?”

He actually looked uncomfortable for a second. “Yes. It wasn’t easy to get away from him, but I did. I finished college and now I’m legitimate.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

He let out a breath. “I’m an archaeologist. That’s my life, Esther. I find things, old things, buried things. I find rare treasures and long-forgotten artifacts. I’ve discovered complete villages buried underneath rock and dirt, and I’ve found rare artifacts in caves and in the ocean. I make a good living finding and selling some of the things I discover. I lecture on college campuses and teach students how to dig and dig and dig. I want that diamond. And I’ve done the research to show that if your father had it, then he hid it and left enough clues for me to take up the quest.”

“So you actually think he found it?”

“He hinted at that, yes. I still don’t know. He was very cryptic about it. But I do believe if he didn’t find it, he knew where it might be. That’s why I asked you first. I thought maybe you’d at least let me see the infernal thing—and save me a lot of grief trying to figure out his letters.”

Her heart felt as heavy as that aggravating diamond. “Is that why you brought me the letters? You want me to help you find clues?”

He looked guilty but had the good grace to also look sheepish. “Partly. But, beyond that, I truly wanted you to have them too, as a memento of your father.”

“When you’re done with them and with me, you mean. Then I can have them as a memento.”

There went that sheepish look again. “I need your help, Esther. But I won’t get you killed in the process.”

Esther huffed an irritated breath to hide the deep disappointment cresting inside her heart. “I told you I don’t know anything and I’m not hiding the diamond. He never mentioned any of this to me. He mused about the diamond, discussed endless scenarios, but he never told me he’d found it.”

“Probably to protect you.”

“Probably because he kept his treasures to himself. Even if he had found the diamond, and even if he had told me about it, do you honestly believe I’d hand it over to you?”

“I thought we could negotiate a swap or a price at least. As I said earlier, your father and I had a partnership of sorts. We agreed to split everything evenly.”

A partnership? He only wanted the diamond so he could make an obscene amount of money. And he was willing to barter with her in order to reach that end.

Again, her heart did a thudding drop, much the way a diamond might feel if it was flung away. Was he using her?

Of course he was here for the diamond and the money. Nothing more. It didn’t surprise her, but it sure did sting.

Deciding to sting back, she said, “Sorry, but the trail is cold. My father loved to imagine what might happen if he could find the diamond, but I think he was afraid to try. Because of me. He always put me first, even when he didn’t want to.”

And no one else would ever do that. She needed to remember that.

“You don’t know that he loved you, but you should.”

She hated the sympathy, the pity, in Cullen’s eyes even as his words touched her. She’d been doing fine in her own little world. Now, here he sat, all powerful and all man, like some hero out of a comic book, trying to convince her that her father loved her, trying to convince her that she was needed.

She refused to let him get the best of her with those midnight eyes and that wonderfully delightful accent.

“Are you finished?” she asked, not necessarily referring to the food.

“Yes, thank you.”

Esther got up and removed their dinner dishes. “I’ll make coffee. I have brownies.”

Then she turned to face Cullen. “I want you to tell me about the people who tried to kill us tonight. Obviously, they think you and I know more about this cursed diamond than we actually do. Or maybe you know more and you’re not telling me. I don’t know what to believe at this point, but you’re here now and I have to go with that. I need to know if I’m still in danger and…what you propose to do about that.”