Diamonds Are For Lovers. Yvonne Lindsay

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      “Another snobby Sydney-sider,” she sighed, giving him the impression this wasn’t the first time she’d had this conversation. “I like the tropics.”

      “What’s to like? A beach you can’t swim in because of the stingers …”

      “Only for a few months …”

      “Insufferably hot and sticky weather …”

      “I like it probably for all the reasons you don’t. Especially now in cyclone season.”

      So the lady was into sultry, steamy nights. He sniffed and rubbed his jaw, clamping down on where that thought would take him. “Bugs and snakes …”

      “You get those in Sydney,” she countered.

      “Not in my neighbourhood, you don’t.”

      “They wouldn’t dare,” she muttered under her breath.

      He ignored that. “No shopping to speak of. Is there actually any nightlife in town or does it shut down at five-thirty?”

      “Remind me to take you cane toad racing while you’re here,” she said, then smiled wryly and leaned her elbows on the table edge. “Laid-back it might be, but there’s an interesting dynamic of village charm and sophistication here. Port is famous for its restaurants and you never know which Hollywood stars or ex-American president you’ll bump into around town or checking out the reef in their big chartered yachts.”

      His fingers tapped the tabletop, drawing her glance. “We know you like to play with the rich and famous, but you’re limiting your opportunities here, Danielle. Why is that?”

      “I do all right, and don’t call me Danielle.”

      He inclined his head. “And ‘all right’ is enough?”

      “For now.” She sipped her coffee. “Tell me about you and Howard.”

      “You don’t know?” he asked, surprised.

      Dani shook her head. “I was at uni around that time. All I know is, he bristled every time your name came up.”

      That didn’t surprise him. Back then, Howard Blackstone had thrown his whole vindictive weight against the young broker from the wrong side of the tracks. “I was just starting out,” he began. Laura, his wife, was sick. His whole world was going to hell.

      “Howard wanted to be nominated as the Australian representative to the new World Association of Diamonds. Everyone had finally woken up to the fact that our industry, the diamond trade, was subsidising wars in Africa.”

      “Conflict diamonds.” Dani nodded. “What good could some worldwide association do against the one or two massive conglomerates who control the mines?”

      Sharp, he thought, but then she had grown up in Australia’s foremost mining family. “The association has definitely raised awareness. Even America, the largest bastion of consumerism, reports that a high percentage of people in the market ask for certification that their diamond is conflict-free.”

      “A certificate’s only as good as the person who completes it,” she stated, again rousing grudging admiration for her appraisal of a very grey area.

      “So, the feud?” Dani prompted.

      Quinn pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back. “Blackstone wined and dined me. He wanted my vote. I suppose he could have got the impression I was a solid bet, but in the end, a fellow broker asked and my vote went his way. To be honest, I expected Howard to romp in, with or without me.”

      “But he didn’t.” Dani nodded. “He likes—liked—getting his own way.”

      Quinn wondered about the relationship between her and Australia’s King of Diamonds. “He lost the nomination by one vote, and took it a lot more personally than it warranted.”

      “Let me guess. You were off the Christmas card list.”

      Well and truly, Quinn thought grimly. Howard’s wrath nearly sent him to the wall with his financiers. “He banned me from accessing the Blackstone mines. I had to borrow heavily to source the stones I needed offshore.”

      If it hadn’t been for one or two friends in high places—notably Sir John Knowles, owner of the diamond upstairs—Quinn’s fledgling business wouldn’t have survived.

      Dani whistled. “That must have hurt. The broker with no diamonds.”

      “It put me in a very bad situation,” he agreed.

      She glanced around the room, her eyes resting on a magenta orchid in the corner. “It doesn’t seem to have had any long-term consequences.”

      “No thanks to the Blackstones.”

      “Have you approached Ric or Ryan? They may be willing to ease the ban now.”

      Now that Howard was dead, Quinn thought scathingly. His dislike of the former head of Blackstone Diamonds wasn’t just business. Howard had made it personal. How ironic that he was sitting across an elegant table with his nemesis’s protégée. “I can manage without the precious Blackstone mines, thanks.”

      Dani’s gaze sharpened a little. “Forgive and forget, hey? The man’s dead.”

      He couldn’t forget. The slights in the papers. Door after door closing in his face. The old-boys banking networks, determined to pull him down. “It’s hard enough starting out without the most influential man in the business doing a number on you.”

      And all while he was barely keeping his head above water to cope with his wife’s terminal illness.

      And that’s where Howard’s vindictiveness really came into its own. Quinn could overlook the loss of business, the tearing down of his reputation, the condescending snubs by former backers. He would never forgive the look in Laura’s eyes when he couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted above all else.

      It never failed to surprise him how much it grated after all these years. “Howard Blackstone was a manipulative, vindictive bastard.”

      Dani blanched, and just for a moment, he felt a needle of sympathy. Was it possible that someone in this world mourned the man so many hated?

      “You know all about being vindictive, don’t you?” she asked tightly. “Wasn’t that what marking me down at the awards was about? Or the slagging off you gave me in various industry papers?” She drained her cup and banged it down on the saucer. “Maybe you and Howard aren’t so different after all.”

      “Maybe you just aren’t that good,” he suggested, eying her evenly.

      “If that’s so,” she snapped, “why am I here?”

      “I don’t know, Danielle.” He stressed the syllables of her name. “Haven’t you got work to do?”

      She glared, and in the candlelight, her hair and eyes crackled like embers. “Luckily, it’s a big house, Mr. Everard. Why don’t we keep our distance?”

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