Diamonds Are For Lovers. Yvonne Lindsay

He bent to pick up the ball of paper by his shoe.

      “No.” Dani picked up the fork and stabbed at a floret of bright green broccoli. “I haven’t nailed it yet, but don’t worry. I will.”

      Quinn tossed the ball of paper into the trash bin. Then he moved to the easel and tilted his head at the latest sketch, one she hadn’t torn off yet. “Have the graphics I supplied been any help?”

      Dani shook her head and cut into tender lamb drizzled with a sauce that tasted of paprika. Software was great for learning on, but most designers she knew preferred to work freestyle.

      He moved to the desk where she sat and laid his hand on her portfolio. “May I?”

      Dani stilled mid-chew. His past comments about her work still rankled. Yet here she was, staying in luxury accommodations, being catered for to her heart’s desire. Awaiting the payment of a colossal sum of money, and all for the privilege of working on an incredible diamond.

      She shrugged. Whatever he thought of her stuff, he’d paid her an enormous compliment by commissioning her. Quinn Everard, the great Australian gem expert, wanted her to design for him. Not Cartier. Not JAR. Dani Hammond.

      Quinn flicked the desk lamp on and stood, one hand in his pocket, the other leisurely turning the pages of the big black binder. He studied each page intently, unmoving except for his lashes dipping and rising as his eyes moved over the page. She watched under the guise of chewing and swallowing.

      His shirt clung to the contours of his chest and hinted at an impressive-looking abdominal ridge or two. Fine dark hair sprinkled his forearms. The harsh light of the lamp picked out definite traces of silver in his sideburns. Mid-thirties, she guessed, with plenty of exercise to keep him toned and strong.

      She tore her eyes away before he caught her, suddenly feeling way too warm. Quinn was too big for this room, too enticing and wickedly attractive.

      His deep brown eyes were suddenly on her face. “These are good.”

      She hadn’t realised she was holding her breath, but now it suddenly left her in a rush. “Oh. Thanks.”

      “You have improved, matured.”

      Improved? Matured? Don’t go overboard with the compliments, mate. “Thanks,” she sniffed, and turned back to her nearly empty plate.

      “Maybe,” he continued, “you chose the wrong piece for the awards.”

      “You were the only one who thought so.”

      That was a lie. She had thought that, worried about it. Her entry for the Young Designer Awards was a wide gold bangle featuring pink and white Blackstone diamonds. It was supposed to capture the sweep of the outback ranges and show the riches within. Although it was a stunning piece and created comment from whoever saw it, Dani had never felt peaceful about it, never felt that she actually got it.

      Quinn Everard, the judge, was the only one who had seen past the “wow” factor and found it wanting.

      “Now, this …”

      He flipped the pages back to where his thumb had marked the spot. She stood up and moved beside him, inhaling a warm masculinity so clean and refreshing that the air in the room was revitalised. Dani nearly swayed with the pleasure of being close to him, her fatigue from the long day washing away.

      She looked down at the book. “The Keishi!” This was one of her first pieces, and still a favourite. Nineteen millimetre champagne Keishi pearls strung on white gold interspersed with gold roses, each centre a small round blue sapphire.

      “This would have won you the award, just for colour and lustre alone.”

      She thrummed with pleasure. “I wanted to enter it. People said it wasn’t high value enough.”

      Quinn looked into her eyes and her heartbeat stuttered.

      Heat bloomed inside and filled her. She couldn’t look away for the life of her. This close she picked out the fine lines at the corner of his eyes; the scar by his mouth she wanted to trace with her finger to see if it was as smooth as it looked. His eyes were dark and a little perplexed, and then he looked down at her mouth.

      “Trust your instincts,” he said softly.

      Oh, boy, if he only knew what her instincts were telling her now. He was so close, his breath wafted over her face. She felt her body tighten, sway slightly in his direction. The man was a magnet, her own personalised magnet. The back of her neck prickled and dampened under the rumpled hank of hair she had twisted and last looked at ten hours ago.

      Ten hours ago? She stepped back hurriedly, thinking how dishevelled she must look. There was probably broccoli in her teeth, and she remembered now that she had not showered today….

      Dani had her pride. She didn’t even know if she liked this man, but if succumbing to an intense attraction was an option, she would at least be clean and fragrant.

      “I—I think it’s time for bed.” She groaned inwardly, thinking, You smooth talker, you. Her embarrassment was heightened by how strangely husky her voice sounded.

      “It’s only eight.”

      She ran her tongue over her teeth. “It’s been a long day.”

      Quinn nodded, and in the process, his eyes swept over her chest and lingered long enough to tell her what she already knew, that her nipples were tight and hard, visibly so.

      She didn’t dare look down. “You can take the diamond to bed,” she said weakly, then wanted to clap her hands to her head. Verbal clumsiness didn’t sneak up on her often, but she’d made the world team tonight.

      Quinn’s mouth twitched.

      Her cheeks stung with heat. No doubt his “lady friend” would be so much more sophisticated, never a hair out of place or a word out of turn.

      “You look hot, Dani,” Quinn said smoothly, and there was no mistaking his amusement.

      She cleared her throat. “You could check the air-con in here. These lights really raise the temperature.”

      “They do, don’t they?”

      She’d made enough of a fool of herself. “Good night.” She escaped without waiting for his response.

      Quinn let his head roll back and stared at the bright lights on the ceiling. “Control yourself,” he muttered, his weakness taunting him. Had she noticed his arousal? He’d sure noticed hers! The sexual charge he got just from being in the same room was beyond a joke, and he was toast once he clapped eyes on her chest.

      So despite her snippiness, the lady was interested.

      That added a new dimension to the proceedings. He’d not so much as touched her, but he knew instinctively that they were sexually compatible, or more aptly, explosively combustible!

      Interesting … He looked down at her empty plate, remembering why he’d come up here in the first place. Quinn was tired of his own company, bored eating alone—which was weird since he was used to it. Preferred it, in fact. His life was a never-ending roundabout of fancy dinners in up-market restaurants, with the added non-bonus of countless airline meals.

      But his apartment in Sydney was ordered and peaceful. To his mind, a cheese sandwich in front of the wall-to-ceiling windows that showcased the most beautiful city in the world was far more enjoyable than any two-hundred-dollar meal he had ever eaten.

      A throwback, he supposed, to the chaotic mealtimes at home when he was a kid.

      Quinn grew up with loving but eccentric parents who filled their huge old Sydney home to overflowing with troubled foster kids. He shared everything as a boy: his parents’ love and time, his room, toys, even his wife, who moved in while they were at university. She was studying to be a social worker and loved helping out with the kids. Quinn shared her right up to the day she died of a brain tumour, aged twenty-six.

      These days,