Diamonds Are For Lovers. Yvonne Lindsay

was, he couldn’t be sure, but Quinn knew one thing. Where Dani Hammond was concerned, he was at least prepared to admit that there would be a next step.

      She nodded and reached for her bag, just as Quinn’s phone rang. It was Sir John Knowles, former prime minister, outgoing governor-general, and close friend and mentor of Quinn’s. A call he had to take.

      He walked into his office and after very little preamble, Sir John got to the point of his call. Incredulous, Quinn listened to the man’s earth-shattering admission, and in seconds the feeling of peace Quinn had woken with was ground to dust.

      “Taxi’s here.” Dani stood at the doorway to his office, holding her bag.

      Quinn covered the mouthpiece of his phone. “I have to take this. You go on and I’ll meet you at the airstrip.”

      She left and he returned to his phone call. Based on Sir John’s admission, Quinn had no alternative.

      “I want out, John.”

      The older man’s quiet voice begged him. How could he turn him down?

      “I’ve become personally involved. I won’t lie about something like this.”

      “Please, Quinn, just another few days. I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t the last chance I have.”

      “Allow me to tell her, then.”

      “I can’t risk her refusal, don’t you see? And I haven’t told Clare yet. Not about the prognosis or the other.”

      The old man sounded sick and alone. His last chance. Quinn had heard that before, had lived with his failure for seven years.

      But still, it was a lousy thing to do. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

      “I do, believe me. And I wouldn’t ask it of anyone but you, because I know you won’t let me down.”

      “Quinn, will you come to the wedding with me?”

      He sat back in his chair and displayed the same careful expression he’d had since they got back from Sydney three days ago.

      Dani was worried. The rumours Ryan spoke of in Sydney had now been aired on television. The shareholders of Blackstone Diamonds were restless, despite an assurance from Kimberley in the paper this morning that all was well.

      Perhaps if he knew the Blackstones, was personally involved, he wouldn’t be so hasty to offer his support to Matt.

      Quinn set his pen down. “That’s not a good idea,” he said slowly.

      “Why not?”

      “It’s a family occasion. With the events of the past few months, everyone will be feeling a little nostalgic.” He looked at her steadily. “My history with Howard is bound to raise comment. I don’t want to rub everyone’s nose in it.”

      “I don’t think anyone will—”

      “I’ll let you know if I change my mind, okay?” He picked up his pen again, his eyes unreadable. “How’s the necklace coming along?”

      “Okay.” The client had imposed a deadline for completion—the twenty-fifth. She was on track, Dani thought, assuming she kept her mind on the job instead of wondering what Quinn Everard was up to.

       Nine

      “Look who I found on the doorstep.” Dani was on her way out to collect various members of the Blackstone clan from the airport when Jake Vance’s face appeared before her. She left the guest with Quinn, gave her apologies and rushed out to her task.

      Quinn’s smile faded at his friend’s grim expression. What was up? Jake kept a brutal schedule. He didn’t just show up on a whim.

      Quinn waved Jake into a seat. “Coffee?”

      “You have something stronger?”

      Quinn narrowed his gaze but held up a bottle of cognac.

      “My old mate Hennessey.” Jake nodded gratefully.

      Quinn poured two generous snifters.

      “No wonder you’re AWOL.” Jake’s head gestured to the door where Dani had just left. “Well, more AWOL than usual.”

      Quinn stayed silent and sipped his drink, waiting for Jake to come to the point.

      The silence stretched, then Jake leaned forward and placed his glass on Quinn’s desk. “Sounds important.”

      “I didn’t say a word,” Quinn retorted, exasperated.

      “Exactly,” Jake said smugly. “Not often you have a girl stay over at your apartment.”

      “How did you …?”

      “Lucy.”

      “You and Lucy are talking?” Quinn leaned forward, arms folded on the desk.

      “Don’t get excited. She called the day after the funeral, before she headed off back to England. Just a friendly take-care-of-yourself call.”

      “She was worried you wouldn’t want her at the funeral,” Quinn mused. Jake was ripped to shreds when Lucy left him after several years together. Quinn tried not to take sides and loved both of them, but he never wanted to see that hurt inflicted on either of them again.

      Jake shrugged. “I appreciated it.”

      “What brings you up here? Bottom fallen out of the market?” Quinn hoped it was nothing to do with Matt Hammond and his Blackstone Diamond shares. He didn’t need any more secrets upsetting the applecart with Dani.

      Jake took a healthy gulp of liquor, screwing up his face. “In a roundabout way, it concerns the little lady who just rushed out of here with her tail on fire.” He fixed Quinn a stern look. “Drink up. This is going to come as a shock.”

      Quinn listened in disbelief as his closest friend related how his mother, shortly before she died, told him he was not her birth child. She’d found him as a two-year-old at the site of a fatal car accident. The car had been washed into a river and the two other occupants were dead.

      Jake rubbed his eyes wearily. “I thought she was delirious. And when she insisted that I was Howard Blackstone’s son, I was sure she was delirious.”

      Quinn’s eyes felt like saucers. He raised his hand. “Back up. This was before she died?”

      “I didn’t mention it at the funeral because … well, I just didn’t believe it. But I’ve been going through the house.” He opened the briefcase he’d laid on the other chair and took out a large scrapbook. “It’s all in there, Quinn.” He patted the book. “God Almighty, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

      Quinn rose with the bottle and walked around the desk to top up Jake’s glass. He perched on the edge of the desk and put out his hand for the scrapbook.

      Jake kept talking as Quinn flipped the pages.

      “How I was kidnapped as a toddler by the housekeeper and her boyfriend. How they sent a ransom note and Howard did all he could to get me back, but on the way to pick up the money, the car crashed.”

      Quinn glanced at him periodically while reading the newspaper clippings. He tried to imagine the dark-haired little boy in the photos as a grown man, even as his rational mind rejected the notion. He glanced up at Jake’s dark green eyes, coal-black hair and at the fully formed widow’s peak—as opposed to just a hint of one in the baby photos.

      “My mother happened on the accident and it all went a bit haywire. She’d lost a baby the year before to SIDS and was on the run from her deadbeat boyfriend. She was going somewhere where no one knew her. Anyway, she was probably a little crazy at the time—hormones, grief, whatever—so she picked me up and passed me off as her own.”

      Quinn got to the last page and snapped the