Bassist Instinct (The Rocker Series #2) (29 page)

“And you are Fiona Brooks.” His hand shot out to shake hers and he stepped into her personal space. Tate’s hackles went right up. “I’m a big fan.”

Fiona was always a little surprised when people recognized her, but this was even more surprising because hardly anyone under fifty recognized her, and this man was probably twenty five years old. The other shock was that he was absolutely gorgeous in the underwear model kind of way. He had sandy blond hair, and mesmerizing blue eyes, like the hottest part of a fire. He was tall and fit, and wore a wicked grin on his handsome face.

“Thank you very much,” she managed. “This is Liam McBride, and Tate Dylan,” she gestured to each of them. His eyes jumped from hers to Tate’s and he smiled.

“Tate, you bastard, how are you?”

“Grand, how’s your mum?” They shook hands and slapped each other on the back.

“Quite well, thank you. How’s Christie?”

“Still happily married, no thanks to you, you poaching bastard,” they laughed.

“It was just an invitation, which she refused. No hard feelings,” Clay smiled.

“I take it you two know each other?” Liam said and escorted them to the living room.

“Not that either of us would admit,” Clay said and they both laughed. “Okay, what have you got?” Clay opened his messenger bag and pulled out a small delicate scale which he powered up, calipers and a loupe. He looked up expectantly at Liam, who handed him the black velvet bag.

Clay carefully dumped the contents of the bag on a slip of paper he laid down, whispered “Fuck,” and picked up the stone with two fingers. He looked at Liam and Fiona and then Tate. Then he chuckled and picked up his loupe and peered at it through the lens. He continued to look at the stone as he started to speak.

“Late last night as I was coming home, my mother’s
boy
friend, the man must be eighty, called me insisting that I fly to Washington before the break of day, I was decidedly pissed. But now…now I am delighted. Have dinner with me, Fiona,” he winked at her. “Make it worth my while.”

“Feck off, you home wrecker,” Tate said and Clay laughed.

“I don’t see a ring, Tate.”

“Maybe you’re holding it,” Tate said and Clay laughed again.

“How much do you know about diamonds?” Clay asked. Fiona had the distinct impression that Clay’s brain was working faster than the rest of theirs were and he was following several threads at once. Were people like him easily bored, she wondered? Or could they just invent things while they were grocery shopping?

“Assume we’re ignorant,” Liam said.

“I can do that,” he winked at Fiona again.

“Hang on,” Liam said and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I record this tutorial?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. Clay hadn’t taken his eyes off the stone except to glance at Fiona, she thought the trip was worthwhile to him even if she wouldn’t go out with him. “There are four things I look at when I rate a diamond, color, clarity, cut, and carat. The color is rated from whitest to yellowest, the rarest of colors on the outside, meaning either very white, or very yellow. These colors are rated with the letters D-Z on the alphabet.” He continued to stare at the stone as he spoke. “I always find that the color is the hardest thing for me to judge, my girlfriends insist this is because of my Y chromosome.” Fiona laughed and he smiled at her. “Cobalt, azure, cerulean, they all look blue to me.”

“In my
un
professional opinion, I would call this diamond an H. This means it is an exceptionally rare white stone. Which is sort of a redundant statement, its size alone makes it exceptionally rare, but added to that; the color is uncommonly good. It’s impressive even, but my mother could be more exact, she’s the expert, after all. Let’s see, what’s next? Clarity. This is the purity of the stone. There are some minor surface blemishes which can be polished up, and I see one very, very small inclusion. In fact, it’s so small I didn’t see it on the first sweep I made. It’s not flawless, but it’s pretty fucking close. Flawlessness would be a red flag for a synthetic stone, too.

“Moving on to cut. Cut is more than just the shape. Well, it’s not really, but… the shape of the stone allows the amount of light to reflect through it. Even the layman can clearly see the brilliance this stone puts off, almost as brilliant as Fiona’s stunning blue eyes. Meaning it is well-proportioned. Almost as well-proportioned as…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, mate,” Tate roared and Fiona jumped. Clay chuckled. “Just get on with it.”

“Where was I? The cut. When the light refracts, it’s a white light, not prismatic, another clear indication to me of its being genuine. Synthetic stones refract light like a prism, diamonds do not.

“Aside from that Fiona, and gentlemen, in my
un
professional opinion, you have yourselves a big fucking rock.” He did a few more measurements and placed it on the scale. “Twenty seven point three carats. Do you like Ethiopian? I know a great Ethiopian place in Adams Morgan,” Clay said to Fiona, who rolled her eyes. “I find eating with one’s hands surprisingly sensual.”

“No thanks, Clay.”

“I can’t begin to put a price on it. Ultimately, it’s worth whatever someone will pay for it. Again, my mother would be a better judge of what things are worth, that’s not something I’ve kept up with. How about Thai food, hot and spicy? You’ll love it,” he grinned at her and she laughed.

“Can you leave it, mate? I’m breaking out in hives you’re laying it on so thick.”

“Notice how his accent gets more pronounced the more excited he gets?” Clay said with a laugh. Fiona put her hand in Tate’s and leaned against him.

“I’ve noticed,” she said and Tate pulled her to him the rest of the way and put an arm around her waist.

“You sounded great on Fallon, by the way. Are the lads in town?” Clay asked Tate.

“You saw that, did you? The lads’ve scattered, it’s just me.”

“Call me next time you’re in Boston,” he was packing up his stuff.

“Is there any way we could put a tracking device on the stone?” Liam wasn’t done.

“No.” Clay was adamant. “The first thing anybody’s going to do is what I just did, and that kind of scrutiny would find even the smallest tracking device. The loupe don’t lie.” He held up his little magnifying glass with a grin.

“What about on the bag?” Fiona asked.

“That’s a better bet, but even so, they could simply toss the bag, that one has tape or something sticky on it. Diamond people are a little anal about their stuff, they wouldn’t keep a sticky bag for long.”

“How about a replica?” Liam tried again.

“Nope, even I can tell paste with the naked eye,” Clay said and breathed on the diamond. “A real stone dissipates the warmth, most synthetic stones keep it. Meaning the moisture from my breath won’t stick around on a genuine stone. It’s a simple test that needs no tools.” He shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘even you’? You’re the fecking expert, mate,” Tate rolled his eyes and Clay laughed.

“I’m no expert, Tate, I haven’t been serious about diamonds since high school. I was commandeered by Sir Gerard Buckingham and his crony Alasdair Fleming because I can keep my mouth shut. So tell me, where did you find this stone? It’s got to be a conflict diamond if the State Department sent me.” He looked at Tate and then Fiona and finally Liam. They were all silent. Clay sighed heavily. “Really?”

“It’s too dangerous, Clay.” Fiona said softly.

He stood. “You’re so much prettier in person, Fiona Brooks.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it, looking at it a little more closely than Tate thought he should have. “These hands.” He sighed. “Are they insured?” Fiona looked nervously at Tate and then looked back at Clay and nodded.

“Of course they are,” Liam said irritably. Clay looked at Liam a little more closely, too.

“I’m in town until 6:00 if you have a use for me, let me know before then.” Liam shook his hand next.

“Thank you, you were a big help,” he said.

“Hey, you’re her brother.” Liam was astonished.

“Yes, how’d you guess?”

“Same brow,” he shrugged.

“
Brow
? Who the hell notices brows?” Liam said.

“She’s much prettier.” Clay said and took Tate’s hand. “I mean it, man, next time you play Boston, I want really great seats.”

“And you’ll get them, we tour next summer, Boston’s usually an early date, but I’ll have to Google the concert calendar, for I’ve no idea.” He nodded at him. “Thanks, Clay.”

“No problem. Keep her safe, she’s a national treasure,” he said and looked at Fiona. “The next time you play Boston I want really great seats, too.”

“After Christmas,” she said.

“I know, I’ve had the tickets for about eighteen months,” he said and made for the door, putting his helmet on and opening the door and walking out.

Tate breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Clay de Kooning was putting the moves on
my
woman, I could clobber him. What did I just say? By Christ I’m scaring myself.

“Are you more famous than I am?” He asked Fiona.

“She’s a fucking child prodigy,” Liam exclaimed.

“Leave it,” Fiona said and went to make her coffee. Tate’s phone rang before he could catch up with her.

“Connor,” he said into the phone.

“You’re still breathing, I take it?”

“I am. How’s the wife?”

“Freaking out about you and Tess,” Connor grumbled.

“How’s Tess?”

“Hating that she has a security detail,” Connor grumbled some more.

“So everyone’s cheesed off at me.”

“Pretty much. I’ve never seen Genna so worked up before. She’d completely stressed out. I fear for the baby.”

“It’ll all be over soon, I think. Tell her that.”

“I will. Tate, be dog wide, aye?”

“I will.”

***

“Use anything at your disposal to throw off your opponent, Tess,” Sam said to her after he threw her to the floor for the third time. The first few times sparring he had been easy on her, not so much tonight. She’d be covered in bruises tomorrow. Sam was strong and he was quick, but Tess was just the slightest bit quicker and a lot more flexible, she just had to figure out a way to use that against him. The first time she got around him in the hospital was because he’d underestimated her, that wasn’t going to happen again. She would rarely be stronger than her opponent, but she might just be smarter; Sam stressed that all the time, he was a pretty good teacher. “Be aware of your surroundings and the tools you can use. Sometimes it only takes a split second of inattention.” He snapped his fingers and she nodded.

Standing, she assumed the fighting stance, equal distribution of weight on her feet for balance, with her hands up in front of her. Sam feigned to her right and grabbed her left arm. Tess turned toward him and thrust her right leg between his legs, bringing them both down in a heap, his upper body across her lower body. She sat up and struggled to get out from under him but he reached up and pulled the back of her shirt, which choked her and brought her back down. That was going to show up tomorrow, too, she thought ruefully.

“Blueberry,” she gasped and he released her immediately. It was their safe word. Sam chuckled.

“You wishing you chose a different safe word, yet?” Sam asked and Tess huffed out a laugh.

“Do we have to call it a safe word?” She thought the word blueberry would keep her mind off the fact that safe words usually involved whips and chains, but other things kept popping into her mind that were equally unwholesome and arousing, nonetheless.

He chuckled. “It was your idea, cupcake,” he said and she glared at him.

“No, I love blueberries, now more than ever.” Her glare turned into a smile and he chuckled again. Her resilience impressed him. She kept her sense of humor, despite the fact that he was leaving bruises on her skin.

At first he resented her a little bit, she was obviously a wealthy young woman going to a hoity-toity school, and everything she wanted was handed to her on a platter. Once he got to know her a little better, he had to revise his impression of her. She was smart, very smart, and she worked hard. Not just at school, but at everything she did, and after only a few lessons in sparing with him she was close to taking him down. She adapted quickly to his movements and kept him guessing how she’d react to his attacks.

And it hadn’t escaped his notice that she was lovely. Her thick blonde hair was up in a messy ponytail, and her blue eyes were almost too large for her face. He’d seen her mother a few minutes after he’d seen her for the first time, and he saw the strong family resemblance. They both were two beautiful women. Tess was a little taller than her mom, not pregnant obviously, and she could move like a snake.

He’d seen people move sinuously before, but he’d never seen anyone do it so naturally, and as unaware of her effect the way she moved had on men, him in particular. He could watch her all day, and if she wasn’t his job, he’d make sure she understood the effect she had on him. Even if she’d have him, he couldn’t compromise her safety by getting involved with this compelling white girl who was granddaughter to his boss’ boss’s boss.

“Let’s take a break,” he said as he lifted her off the living room floor.

“One more time,” she said and pulled her shirt off, not wanting to get choked again. Sam stood staring at her in her sports bra, and she immediately took advantage of his momentary inattention and she attacked, flipping him over her back and on to the floor. She had her arm to his throat in a nano-second, her knees pressed on top of his upper arms. “I used what I had at my disposal, and you should see your face.” She giggled, and then something between them shifted subtly.

Tess moved her knees so that she wouldn’t hurt his arms and she sat on his chest. His hands went to her sides and she found herself pulled to his lips. The touch was feather light at first, and her whole body sank on to him as she pressed her mouth to his. He welcomed her lips and their mouths opened for each other, claiming each other. All thought fled and only sensation ruled.

His lips were unbearably soft and his tongue danced and demanded. His hands hadn’t moved from her waist, they merely got tighter, he was reassuring himself she was solid in his grip. Tess moved her hands to his chest, running lightly over the hard surface and his whole body shuddered with desire. Then he suddenly realized what he was doing and he broke the kiss.