Julia James - Diamonds are for Deception - The Carlotta Diamond / The Texan's Diamond Bride / From Dirt to Diamonds

Beyond the chandelier-hung hall, a large candlelit room was packed with people, and well-dressed celebrities appeared to be ten-a-penny.

When Charlotte had first, hesitantly, mentioned the party, it had sounded innocuous enough. Expecting the whole thing to be obscure, quiet, dull and literary, he had promised to do his best to be free. But this affair was much bigger and a great deal less private than he’d bargained for.

He’d made a bad mistake in coming here, and the sooner he could get away, the better. If anyone recognised him and told Simon…

As their coats were whisked away, their handsome, silver-haired host appeared to greet them—Rudy with civility, Charlotte with enthusiasm.

‘My dear, you look stunning. I’m so pleased you could come. The last time I invited you to one of these dos you cried off, you naughty girl.’

‘I couldn’t find an escort.’

‘Now, that I don’t believe. But should it ever happen in the future, come anyway, and I promise I’ll never leave your side,’ Anthony winked at her.

‘Your wife might have something to say about that,’ Charlotte teased.

Sighing, Anthony said, ‘There are times I wish I’d stayed a bachelor gay.’

‘Now, that I don’t believe.’

He grinned. ‘Touché.’

‘You must know that in the literary world yours and Renee’s marriage is held up as a shining example of how good it can be.’

‘It doesn’t come much better,’ he admitted. ‘I think every man should have a wife, don’t you agree?’ He glanced at Charlotte’s companion as if expecting some male support.

When Rudy said nothing, Anthony turned his attention back to Charlotte. ‘What do you think of the theme?’

‘Love it. Candles create such a wonderfully intimate atmosphere.’

‘A romantic at heart! I always suspected it, in spite of that cool businesswoman air you cultivate. Now there are lots of people here you’ll know, so do you want to just circulate? Or would you like me to introduce you to a couple of our new authors?’

‘Just circulate, I think,’ Charlotte said.

He kissed her hand. ‘In that case, help yourselves to some champagne and go mingle.’

As they obeyed, and were greeted by people Charlotte knew, she introduced her handsome escort with a feeling of pride. But though Rudy smiled and acknowledged each new acquaintance politely, it soon became obvious that he was ill at ease and hating every minute of it.

She was wondering why, as most of the conversation, far from being confined to books, was general and lively, when a sudden stir indicated the arrival of the Press.

‘Hell!’ Rudy muttered. It was a possibility he should have foreseen, but hadn’t.

‘What’s wrong?’ she breathed, seeing the hint of panic in his brown eyes.

‘Blasted photographers.’

‘I can’t imagine they’ll be long. It’s just a necessary spot of publicity.’

Turning his head, he whispered in her ear, ‘Mind if I vanish for a time? If my picture should happen to get into the papers the powers that be will discover I’m not where I’m supposed to be, and that could mean big trouble.’

Feeling guilty that he’d neglected his job to come with her, she whispered back, ‘Go by all means.’

He excused himself, and, putting his empty glass on the nearest table, disappeared into the crowd.

As though his exit had sparked it off, the little group they had been standing with began to break up. Some, hoping for their share of publicity, gravitated towards the photographers. Others drifted towards the adjoining room, where a buffet supper had been set out, and a piano was being played softly.

Deciding to wait where she was until Rudy came back, Charlotte accepted another glass of champagne and, setting her back against the wall, sipped it idly while she indulged in a spot of people-watching.

She was smiling, amused by the antics of the ones still trying to get their picture in the papers, when a frisson of awareness told her that she herself was being watched.

Standing in the shadows, Simon Farringdon thought that she was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. No wonder Rudy appeared to be completely besotted.

Even his host, whom he knew to be happily married, clearly wasn’t unaffected. Greeting him warmly, Anthony had said, ‘Great to see you. I thought you were still in New York.’

‘Just got back.’

‘Well, I’m delighted you could drop in. Help yourself to some champagne, and if you’re still looking for a perfect woman I’ll introduce you to Charlotte Christie. As well as being really nice, she’s a true beauty, with character. Unfortunately she already has a somewhat surly escort.’

‘I think in that case I’ll skip it,’ Simon had refused lightly. ‘You won’t want any unseemly brawls at your party.’

‘Charlotte is certainly the kind of woman men would fight over,’ Anthony had said.

And he hadn’t been far wrong, Simon realised now. That mouth and those wonderful eyes, upward-tilted at the outer corners, the prominent cheekbones and slightly hollowed cheeks, gave her the kind of haunting, poignant beauty that affected the spirit and senses and made willing slaves of men.

Or at least some men.

Though he could already feel a strong pull of sexual attraction, he had no intention of being one of them.

When Lucy—terrified that this time Rudy was engaged in something far more serious than his previous flings and might leave her—had begged for Simon’s help, his first thought had been to find the girl and pay her off.

It had come as a nasty shock to discover that Rudy’s latest amour and Maria’s granddaughter were one and the same.

Then all the pieces had clicked into place. The morning Rudy had called at the Hall he must have overheard enough to arouse his curiosity and set him off on the trail of Maria or her descendants.

He’d clearly lost no time, and now he had not only a beautiful lover—if lovers they were—but also one who would soon be worth a small fortune.

Poor Lucy.

Except that Rudy wasn’t going to get away with it, Simon vowed, no matter what it took, he would put an end to the affair.

The Press were departing now, and in the milling crowd Charlotte could see no one looking in her direction. But still the sensation persisted, like a cold breath of disquiet, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck, making her shiver.

Then, turning her head a little, she saw a man standing in deep shadow beyond the range of the flickering candles. He was watching her intently.

Just for an instant their eyes met.

She recoiled from the shock as though from a blow, so unnerved that if she hadn’t been in a room full of people, she would have turned on her heel and run…

‘Sorry I’ve been so long.’ Rudy materialised by her side. ‘I thought those blasted photographers would never go.’ Then, catching sight of her expression, ‘If you’re upset about it I can only—’

‘I’m not.’

‘You look upset.’

‘Not with you, honestly. It’s just that a strange man was staring at me.’

He laughed. ‘With looks like yours you ought to be used to men staring at you.’

‘This was different,’ Charlotte insisted.

‘So where is your strange man?’

‘Over there.’ She stopped abruptly; the shadowy corner where the man had been standing was empty. ‘He’s gone,’ she said stupidly.

‘So there’s nothing to worry about. He was no doubt thinking of coming over to chat you up, and when I appeared he changed his mind.’

If only she could believe that. But she couldn’t. Though she’d met the stranger’s glance for only a split-second, she knew there had been nothing light or flirtatious in the look. It had been as cold and piercing, as lethal, as a stiletto.