Luck of the Dragon (Entangled Covet) (12 page)

A gift? Lucy forced a surprised laugh through her throat and closed the hallway door. “That’s not necessary. The spa and the dress…” She was rambling, and Alec was already gone, rightly assuming she would follow.

Anger fired through her system—did he still think she could be bought? Even as her mind threw out the javelin, she knew it was false. Anger was just her go-to emotion to cover all manner of discomfort.

Alec Gerald unsettled her equilibrium in a way no other man ever had. Get a grip. It was just a date, a possible fling, nothing more. A gorgeous man, in a gorgeous place, whose presence just happened to shield her from Gino and Joey.

It would be fun. Fun, fun, fun.

You could package this evening and Alec Gerald into a silent-auction item and make thousands. Women would line up for hours to bid on a date with this man.

Win-win.

Right?

Nothing resolved in her mind, Lucy walked into the next room, still uncertain and unbalanced “How many gifts do you usually give to your women?”

“There are no other women.” Alec waited for her in the foyer near an elaborate wrought iron staircase. “Just you.”

Over his shoulder were a gourmet kitchen and sunken living room. The outside wall was made of glass and had wide sliding doors that opened onto balconies and blue sky. In the back, she could see the breakfast room they had been in that morning.

Lucy stopped next to him, feeling like Alice following the rabbit down the dark hole.

Alec reached out and pushed the frame of a Renaissance style picture of
St. George and the Dragon
to the right. A staircase opened in the floor near the glass wall with the sound of an unearthed crypt.

“I’d like to show you something.” Alec stepped down the first few stairs and glanced back at her. “You coming?”

Lucy closed her gaping mouth. “Where?”

“You’ll have to come to see.” His words sounded amused even as his dark-haired head disappeared from view.

Lucy hurried down the curving stone steps after him. At the bottom, she walked along a narrow sunlit passage until she came to a fork where two paths diverged. She could have been in Greece, exploring the pillaged Acropolis. “Alec?”

“Take the left path.” Alec called, his voice sounding very close.

Lucy stepped left. This passage was dark and lit by iron wall sconces. A huge steel door opened into what looked like a wine cellar. Alec sat on a stool in the middle of room next to a rustic table. “Come on in.”

Lucy walked forward with cautious steps.

“I’d like to test your senses with jewels.” Seated on the stool, Alec’s dark gaze was level with hers.

Lucy frowned. “My senses are excellent.”

Alec laughed, “I’m sure they are.” He handed her a blue silk scarf. “Tie it around your eyes. No peeking.”

Lucy closed her eyes and tied the scarf. Without sight, her other senses went into high gear. Alec still smelled like the eucalyptus steam shower. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she put her hand on the table to steady herself. The worktable was smooth under her fingers, worn soft by an unspecified passage of time.

Alec’s hand covered hers, and he guided her to the stool. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Then he was gone. A chill wrapped her ankles and snaked inside her plunging neckline. She heard Alec’s footfalls across the stone floor a few moments later. Lucy listened, noticing the way his heel struck and rolled to his foot pad in one fluid motion.

“Open your hand.”

Lucy un-fisted her palm on the table.

Alec placed a heavy stone in her hand. “Touch it. Use your senses and tell me what you feel.”

Lucy was intrigued. She knew her stones, but blindfolded? That was just silly. They all felt the same, didn’t they?
No,
her mind whispered. Sapphires had that heat trapped inside, emeralds felt like water, a diamond was cold like arctic ice, and a ruby was so soft that she always expected it to dent under her tools.

The stone in her hand was slightly smaller than her palm, uncut, and rough on its edges…except there. She ran her thumb over a spot as smooth as glass. A flare hit her fingertips, and she bobbled the stone.

“Easy.” Alec wrapped his larger hand around hers and set the rock aside. “What did you feel?” He whispered the question in her ear as if he wanted to reach her soul.

“Fire.”

“What does that mean to you?”

“A sapphire.”

“Very good.” Alec untied the scarf.

Lucy opened her eyes and squinted, disoriented by the return of her vision. On the table sat a beautiful red-orange stone. She inhaled sharply. “Holy Mary, Joseph—”

“And Peter,” Alec supplied. “It’s a Padmaraga Sapphire, still uncut.”

Lucy stroked the top of the stone, awestruck. “I tried to see one in Sri Lanka, but they wouldn’t permit a woman to view it.”

“Well, you’re seeing it now.” Alec leaned his hip into the table. “I’d like you to cut it for me.”

Lucy’s mouth opened, and the chill from the vault rushed over her tongue. “But, a Padma sapphire this size…it’s probably worth millions.”

“I trust you with it.”

Lucy’s mind immediately jumped to the joy of cutting the stone. She would start with the exposed part and let the jewel reveal itself to her before…
Stop.

“I can’t do it.” She handed him back the stone. Her palm felt cold and empty.

“Why not?”

“There are ancient customs to cutting a stone like that. You should contract with a monk who is certified to touch it.”

Alec sat down on a stool on the other side of the table. “How about this then?” He set aside the sapphire and reached to the side. Straightening, he placed a rectangular wooden box on the table.

Lucy’s eyes widened. The box was one foot square, inlaid with semiprecious stones forming an infinity sign, like her daisy tattoo. It was wrapped with a gold ribbon. She untied the ribbon with shaky fingers and opened the box. It was a replica of the cutting set in the Israeli museum, but better. The handles of the tools were made with lapis and onyx and rose quartz.

“How did you do this so fast?”

“I have a jeweler. I have jewels. It was not so difficult.”

Lucy swallowed hard. It was all too much. What was she supposed to do? Get into her pumpkin and hobble home with a priceless cutting set and La Perla underwear? Good God. She would never be the same. And they hadn’t even had all-the-way sex. Maybe this was
too
much of a good thing.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say you’re hungry.” Alec seemed to sense her backpedaling. He stood and helped Lucy up from her stool.

Lucy followed Alec into the hall and stared at the cutting set and stone on the table while Alec re-engaged the vault security codes. Her eyes went blurry and unfocused as she watched the steel door close on the priceless objects. The clicking of the locks felt like goodbye, forever.

“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked.

Alec held her elbow as they walked through the passage. “Anywhere you want.”

Somehow, Lucy believed him.

Chapter Ten

“So when I said Moroccan…” Lucy fingered a piece of flatbread. “I thought you would take me to Africa.” Her words were teasing and light.

“Next time.” Alec sat on a cushion on her left, one knee bent and the other leg stretched against hers. “I need to stay in town just now.”

They had arrived at the Moroccan restaurant off the Strip in the chauffeur-driven black Bentley and had been shown to a private room. They sat in an alcove with silk cushions on the floor, nestled around a knee-high table. Carved wood paneling and candlelight made the alcove both otherworldly and intimate.

Lucy took a sip of her excellent red wine. Alec’s
next time
statement annoyed her. It wobbled precariously on top of
no other women,
on top of the million-dollar uncut sapphire—it all seemed a Jenga game of fairy tales bound to topple.

“Tell me more about Lucy De Luca.” Alec ran his hand down her arm to the pulse at her wrist. It jumped under his finger. “What do you enjoy?”

“Besides spas and priceless jewels?” The words flew out of her mouth like a shield. They needed to get things straight between them. This was a fling—a fling to remember for the rest of her life—but a fling nonetheless.

Alec frowned. “I’ve offended you somehow?”

“I just…” Lucy sighed. “I’m okay with all this.” She waved her hands around the room. “As long as you don’t pretend there’s some kind of next time, happily-ever-after at the end.”

Alec leaned toward her and she leaned away.

“I grew up with con artists and grifters. My father went to the pen. My brother…” Lucy swallowed and refocused. “My brother will probably wind up there, too. I can’t live in a fairy tale.” She watched his face and smiled, trying to soften her words. “I’m attracted to you. Can’t that be enough?”

Alec said nothing, and his face gave her no hint as to what he thought about her speech.

A waiter arrived to take their order, cutting off any further talk. “
Kefta tangine
with lamb and couscous to share,” Alec ordered in a smooth baritone. They had already agreed on their dinner choice.

“Yes, Mr. Gerald.” The waiter set dates and olives on the table and left as soundlessly as he’d arrived.

Alec turned his wine stem in his fingers, seeming to watch the ruby red sparkle in the candlelight. Silence stretched between them. Lucy shifted on her cushion, kicked off her strappy shoes, and crossed her legs at the ankles. The only sounds in the room were candles crackling and sinuous Middle Eastern music. Lucy plopped a dense and sugary date in her mouth and chewed.

Still Alec did not speak.

This was getting ridiculous. What kind of man pouted over a no-strings-attached clause to getting laid? Lucy pressed her lips shut against the one hundred placating words piling up on her tongue. It must be that no one had ever told him
no
. She wasn’t saying
no
, just
no
games
. He should appreciate her practicality.

Geesh.

“Tell me about your mother,” Alec said.

“What?” Lucy’s head whipped toward him. “My mother? I didn’t mention her.”

“Exactly,” Alec said. “How did she handle your father going to prison?”

Lucy took a slow sip of her wine. Just the mention of the penitentiary was enough to put most people off talking about her family. “She worked as a maid downtown when she could get out of bed.”

Alec nodded. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“And your brother?”

“We’re twins.”

“Ah.” Alec nodded, and Lucy wondered what he was inferring.

Embarrassment crawled up her back like marching spiders. Alec seemed to peer into her past, seeing the poverty and desolation. This was why she didn’t like talking about her family. She always felt ashamed, like she needed to explain that she had a made a different life. She wasn’t like that anymore.

She. Was. Different.

But was she? Alec-pilfered thumbprint was in play somewhere.

“You’re a strong and admirable woman.” Alec’s words were soft, as if he sensed her discomfiture.

Lucy drained the remaining wine from her glass. She rolled the tart sweetness over her tongue and looked away from his searching gaze.

“Yes, I am.” And she believed it—most of the time.

A group of waiters arrived and laid out their meal. Cinnamon and cloves mingled with the scent of succulent meat. Her stomach growled appreciatively. She glanced at Alec with renewed enthusiasm. “Yum.”

Alec laughed, the tense moment gone. “You’ve never had Moroccan food?”

“No.”

Lucy ate as much as she dared. On cue with her last bite, a bevy of belly-dancing beauties entered the room, their hips shaking in time with live drums. The women were dark and gorgeous, fleshier than most tummy-baring Vegas gals. Their colorful veils hid their mouths, but not their dark, seductive eyes. On their fingers, cymbals chimed in time with the sway of their bodies.

Lucy watched them shimmy, impressed with their abandon. Their purple-veiled leader approached her and beckoned for Lucy to join them, but Lucy shook her head.

Then the woman moved to Alec. She took her time, shaking her hips with a demanding rhythm.
Look at me
, her hips screamed. Alec leaned back against the wall. The woman took this as an encouragement, stepped over his lap, and dropped to her knees. All Lucy could see was her mostly bare back and undulating arms and hips.

Lucy’s stomach churned around her meal, and she cast her eyes for a place to stare. What did she expect? Alec was like catnip to women—they threw themselves at him, and he didn’t seem to mind.

The drums stopped and Lucy looked at the pair. Alec said something to the woman and she ran her hand slowly down his chest, snaking her fingertips between the buttons of his shirt to his skin. She whispered something back before standing and shimmying out of the room with the rest of the harem.

Alec met her gaze, unflinching and direct. “We should try the hookah before we go.”

“You mean the hooker?” Her question had a bite she hadn’t intended to show.

Alec poured more wine into their glasses. “That talented woman did not want to be paid for her charms.”

“I bet.”

He picked up her clenched hand and kissed it, letting the tip of his tongue caress the grooves between her knuckles. Lucy saw sparks, literally, and tried to pull away. He held her hand tight until she looked at him.

“I told you could trust me.” His voice held aggravated certainty.

Lucy watched his face, searching for the microscopic tells that always gave a person away. There were none. Alec’s face was impassive, and his dark blue eyes were only keenly interested in her response. This was a man who kept his cards close. She shouldn’t bet against him. She could lose more than casino chips.

She could lose her heart.

Their waiter entered the room, carrying a violin-shaped pot with a gold hose coiled on the neck. He set it on the table and cleared their dishes. “Your hookah, sir.”

“Thank you,” Alec said. “A piece of baklava and honey to share, please.” The waiter nodded and left.