Page 39 of The Best of Friends

“Does he know you left Milan?”

“I don’t know.” Part of her wondered if he’d gone to see her, only to find out she was gone. Or was that wishful thinking on her part?

“Are you going to listen to the message?”

Rebecca nodded, then pushed the speakerphone button before dialing her voice mail. Seconds later, she heard Nigel’s voice.

“Becca Blue,” he said, that familiar, low voice making her stomach hurt. “Where are you? I can’t get you anywhere. Are you hiding? I have to go to New York in a couple of weeks. Want to meet me there? The usual place? I promise days and nights of fun. Call me.”

Anger replaced longing. She glared at her phone. “That bastard. I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to marry?” She pushed the button to delete the message. If only it were so easy to erase it from her memory.

“I’m sorry,” Jayne told her.

“I know. Me, too.”

“Are you going to New York?”

“No. Not even to annoy my mother.”

“Well,” Jayne said sympathetically, “that’s progress.”

If only it were enough, Rebecca thought. She looked back at her phone. She hadn’t heard from Nigel in weeks. Not since he’d gotten married. She was cynical enough to think he wasn’t missing her all that much. She would guess he might be having second thoughts about the blue diamond he’d given her. Was greed more powerful than guilt? She had a feeling she was about to find out.

Seven

AT ONE O’CLOCK, DAVID took the elevator down to the Worden of Beverly Hills boutique. The company offices were on the three floors above the store. His new office was next to his father’s. After nearly two weeks, he was enjoying the transition from the excitement of searching for rare gemstones to a more structured day, complete with meetings and an assistant. He stuck his finger between his neck and his collar. The tie was tougher to accept.

He walked through the back room and into the quiet elegance of the retail store. Recessed lighting illuminated the brilliance of the stones, while polished glass protected millions of dollars worth of inventory. The salespeople were well dressed, knowledgeable, and charming; the carpet was plush; the two security guards by the door were huge and armed.

He glanced around until he saw Jayne leaning over a display of earrings. Her long brown hair fell onto the case. She pulled it away, holding it in one hand, the way women with long hair do. It was one of those unconscious gestures that drove men wild. At least it drovehimwild.

There was something about Jayne. Something quiet and unassuming. She didn’t demand attention or expect to be in the middle of everything. Yet whenever she spoke, he found himself wanting to listen.

She turned and saw him, smiled and gave him a little wave. Unexpected anticipation coursed through him. As if he’d been waiting for her to show up so his day could start.

“So you brought me back to the scene of the crime,” she said quietly as she approached. “Do I look guilty? I feel guilty.”

“Guilty about what?”

She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “My felony. I stole a necklace from here.”

“No one cares.”

“Ha. That sounds great, but wait until the police find out.”

“I won’t tell them.”

“You say that now, but we’ll see.”

Laughter brightened her eyes. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, so he could see the freckles on her nose. There was something glossy on her lips, something he wanted to wipe away so he could—

“David?”

“What? I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look… I don’t know. Strange. Are you feeling all right?”

“Great. I’m great. Come on. The elevator is this way.”