Carranza stared at Josh for a long moment, and though he smiled, there was a sudden dark glint in his eyes that made Paige nervous. Then he turned toward the older man beside him. “Paige, I’d like you to meet Alfred, my personal appraiser. Alfred, this is Paige Montgomery, proprietress of the Wild Rose, the boutique I expressed an interest in for Bridget.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Alfred shook her hand, then Josh’s, his beady gaze drawn to the diamonds and emeralds draped over her throat. “The necklace is exquisite,” he agreed, a dark brow rising. “I can see why Bridget wants it for herself.”
“She’s been pouting ever since she saw it in a portrait Paige has hanging in her boutique.” A waiter passed with a tray of appetizers, which they all declined. Carranza glanced back at Paige. “Would you mind if Alfred has a closer look at your necklace?”
She smiled sweetly and lightly touched the jewels. “I’d rather not take it off.”
Carranza didn’t look pleased by her refusal, but quickly covered up his irritation and offered an alternate suggestion. “Very well, he can give it a quick appraisal while you’re wearing it.”
His audacity shouldn’t have surprised her, and as much as she wanted to deny his request so she didn’t have to endure his appraiser groping the necklace and her neck, she had no justifiable reason to do so.
Alfred lifted a jeweler’s loupe to his eye, and took hold of the diamond and emeralds to inspect them. Paige stiffened as his cold fingers brushed her skin, and tried desperately not to shudder in revulsion. Josh stood beside her, looking appropriately bored.
Finally, Alfred released the necklace and stepped back, giving Carranza a slight nod. “It’s a very fine piece,” he declared.
A satisfied smile touched Victor’s mouth. His narrowed gaze scanned the crowd of people, and finding Bridget holding court amongst a cluster of men, he motioned for her. She glided toward them, her sleek body wrapped in a black sheath that displayed every curve.
She nodded to Paige, gave Josh a sultry once-over, then glanced up at Carranza.
Victor smiled at her. “Pussycat, are you sure this is the necklace you want?”
She eyed the diamonds and emeralds, her full lips pursing petulantly. “I’m sure. Whatever it costs, I want this original, not a duplication.”
“Very well.” Carranza released a long-suffering sigh, then glanced back at Paige. “Perhaps later this evening we can discuss a fair price for the necklace?”
Paige laughed lightly, a chuckle that sounded strained to her own ears, and forced the reply Josh had rehearsed with her. “Actually, I’ve had other inquiries about the necklace. I heard it was part of the Ivanov collection and I’m not sure I want to part with it.” She caressed the smooth jewels and smiled. “After all, it does have a certain sentimental value attached to it.”
A muscle in Carranza’s jaw twitched, and something dark and dangerous glittered in his eyes. “I hope you’ll reconsider.”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe it would be best for Bridget to find another emerald-and-diamond necklace that is more…attainable.”
Bridget’s gaze sparked with a flash of fury that sent a touch of fear skittering along Paige’s spine. Carranza, too, looked none too happy with her unwillingness to give them what they wanted. Obviously, they hadn’t planned on her not cooperating.
To Paige’s immense relief, dinner was announced, interrupting the tense moment. Obviously displeased, Carranza excused himself, and flanked by Bridget and Alfred, headed toward the dining area.
“Well, he’s certainly been baited,” Paige commented, leaning close to Josh as they wended their way to the table they’d been assigned to.
He pulled out a chair for her to sit. “We’ll see what happens,” he murmured, then took the seat next to her.
They spent the next hour dining on a fabulous fivecourse meal. Josh ate his dinner with gusto, but Paige pushed her food around on her plate, knowing her churning stomach would never be able to digest any of the rich entrées. Instead, she nibbled on her bread and consumed three glasses of water, hoping that bland diet would settle her anxiety. They conversed politely with the couples seated at their table, but Paige remembered little of what they’d discussed.
After dinner, she and Josh danced, mingled and went out onto the balcony for fresh air, all the while waiting and wondering what Carranza had planned next. Though they’d spoken at intervals during the party, Carranza had made no more mention of his interest in the Ivanov necklace. He was again pleasant and charming. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he’d accepted her refusal to sell him the piece.
The night wore on. People gradually retired for the evening, and Paige grew weary, too. She hated to think that all the preparation for this weekend would be for nothing-she also didn’t want to leave Miami with Carranza still on the loose, and Josh in the midst of the danger surrounding the case.
Out on the dance floor, Josh held her securely as they moved to a slow ballad, along with several other couples still enjoying the evening’s festivities. With every shift of her body against Josh’s, she became increasingly aware of the uncomfortable pressure low in her belly-nature had been calling for the past two hours.
“Josh, I really have to go to the ladies’ room,” she said, more urgently than the other two times she’d made the same request.
He frowned, the hand resting at the base of her spine tightening perceptively. “Can’t you hold it a little while longer?”
If the situation hadn’t become so dire, she would have laughed. “No,” she groaned, her frustration coming through in the tone of her voice. “Between the three glasses of water I drank during dinner and the soda I just finished, my bladder is going to explode if I don’t empty it. And soon.” Glancing around the ballroom, she found Carranza. “Victor and Bridget are busy talking to that group of people. You keep an eye on them, and I’ll be back in less than two minutes,” she suggested, knowing how odd it would look for Josh to accompany her to the rest room and stand guard.
Hesitant emotions entered his gaze. He clearly didn’t want her out of his sight, not even to take care of a necessity.
“Josh, I’m wired,” she reminded him in a low voice. “There’ll be two dozen men in that rest room with me.”
An amused smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. “You’re right,” he conceded, casting a glance toward the hired bartender. The man gave a barely discernible nod to indicate he’d heard them.
Reluctantly, Josh let her go, and she headed toward a hallway that took her out of Josh’s line of vision and led to a rest room. Thankfully, it was unoccupied. Locking the door behind her, she took care of business as quickly as possible. While washing her hands, she glimpsed her reflection. She looked pale and tired, though the Ivanov necklace sparkled with a life of its own. She wondered how something so beautiful and extraordinary could be the root of so much evil and greed.
Somebody tested the doorknob, pulling her out of her idle musings. She realized she’d taken at least five minutes instead of the two she’d promised Josh, and hat he was probably growing frantic with worry.
“I’ll be just a second,” she called to the person on the other side of the door as she tucked back a stray strand of hair that had escaped her chignon. She stifled a yawn and straightened her dress, thinking she and Josh ought to call it a night, since Carranza didn’t seem inclined to make a move for the necklace that evening.
With that thought on her weary mind, she exited the est room and collided with a solid wall of muscle that caused her to take a step back to steady herself. Startled, he glanced up, expecting Josh, but found herself starning at a middle-aged man with a deep, two-inch scar long his cheek. He was dressed in the requisite black, is long ebony hair pulled back and secured at the back of his neck with a thin leather strap.