LITMIR.BIZ

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to her was definitely off limits.

      Steve called at breakfast to ask if Dani could mind the shop for a few hours; he and his partner had an ultrasound to attend. Quinn went into town with her. She was quiet but not snippy, and he had some ideas for marketing he’d been thinking about. He pushed aside the feeling that giving her some decent advice may assuage his guilt somewhat.

      “What are you doing here, Dani?” he asked, after a customer walked out with a very nice pair of pearl earrings that she’d gotten for a bargain, he noticed.

      Dani looked up from locking the cabinet. “Making a living. Just.”

      Quinn paced out the tiny interior. The display was funky without being crafty; the quality of her jewellery was too high for that. But the premises were second-rate, security was inadequate and the whole place needed a complete overhaul. “Is it success or failure you’re afraid of?”

      Dani ran her eye slowly around the shop. “It could use some attention, I know.”

      “How did you end up here, anyway? Why Port?”

      She scratched her neck and shrugged. “It’s where I stopped.” She picked up a cloth and bottle of glass cleaner and walked out from behind the counter. Today she was almost conservative in below-the-knee tights, high-heeled sandals, a mushroom-coloured tunic with voluminous sleeves and a huge orange silk rose pinned to her lapel.

      Why he always noticed her attire was beyond him. He questioned her again. “What were you running from?”

      Dani walked to the display cabinet on the other side of the shop and turned her back on him. He heard the hiss of the spray cleaner, saw the sleeves of her creamy shirt rippling as she rubbed and polished. “I was engaged.”

      As soon as she said it, he remembered a couple of sketchy details. Actually, what he remembered was watching it on a TV news programme and wondering how it qualified as news.

      “I was engaged to someone who was convinced, even though I denied it repeatedly, that I was Howard’s daughter and, therefore, a Blackstone heiress.”

      She moved around the cabinet, rubbing intently, but didn’t look at him.

      “I remember,” Quinn murmured, noticing two distinct spots of colour on her cheeks.

      “You remember the scandal.”

      She did look at him then and he saw that it wasn’t so much pain setting her mouth into a thin line and colouring her cheeks. It was embarrassment.

      “The media had a field day.” She gave a tight laugh. “There were some really funny headlines. I would have laughed myself if …” Her eyes slid away and she moved to another glass-topped cabinet. “Do you know, he even demanded his ring back, until Ryan paid him a visit on Howard’s orders.”

      Quinn exhaled. “I’d say you had a lucky escape.”

      She rolled her eyes and the smile she had forced disappeared. “I just got tired of it. I’m either the illegitimate love child, the scheming gold digger or the poor stupid fool whose fiancé got caught with his pants down. Just one more brush to tar me with.”

      She fell silent and continued to rub vigorously at some imaginary mark.

      “Why here?”

      She raised her shoulders. “I love the beach and the climate. It’s far enough from Sydney that most people don’t even know I’m related to the Blackstones.” She glanced at him briefly and grinned. “And I’ll admit to a bit of poetic license. The population is pretty transient here. I can be whoever and whatever I want.”

      Images of a wan face, tamed hair and indeterminate clothing flitted through his mind. He’d seen her featured several times in newspaper spreads or television reports. But he’d never noticed her beauty, her animated smile and sparkle, until he’d met her up here. Now he found himself consciously holding his breath when he heard her come downstairs in the mornings, wondering what jaw-dropping mishmash of colours and textures she would amaze him with today.

      Quinn put his hand out. “Come here.”

      He led her outside and then turned her and gestured to the faded lettering above the door. “What does that say?”

      “Dani Hammond. Fine Jeweller of Port Douglas.”

      “Fine Jeweller,” he repeated. “We both know how much study and work experience it takes to be able to put those two words after your name.”

      He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Is this what you envisaged while you were putting in the work?”

      Her head dropped a little. “Not really.”

      “What did you see?”

      “What does anyone see just starting out? I wanted to be the best.”

      “Didn’t you want important people to come to you, celebrities and royalty and private collectors?” he asked.

      She pursed her lips. “I suppose …”

      “Would Howard Blackstone have put his money up if he thought this was as far as you’d go?”

      “Ouch!” Her eyes flashed and Quinn wondered if there might be a little residual anger from this morning.

      “This,” he said as he turned his palm up to indicate the shop front, “isn’t good enough. Not the shop or the location.”

      He showed her back inside. “You have the connections, Dani. If the Blackstones won’t help, invest in a marketing company. Maybe my people can point you in the right direction.”

      Dani frowned, not convinced. “Listen, I have so many orders from the February launch, I can barely keep up.”

      But Quinn was pacing again. “You need to move. Sydney …” He caught the negative set of her mouth. “Melbourne, then. Hell, why limit yourself? You’re good, Dani, great, even. Why not New York or Europe?”

      She put up a hand. “I was thinking of a couple of doors down, actually.”

      Quinn stopped and looked at her, put off his stride.

      “The vacant shop two doors down,” she repeated patiently. “It’s nearly on the corner of the mall, so there’s lots of foot traffic. It’s twice the size and very modern.”

      His head went back and he stared down his nose at her. Why wasn’t she getting this? “You want to be the best? The best in Port Douglas?”

      “Yes, I do remember the one-horse-town comment,” she said testily, her cheeks firing up.

      “Hey, it’s your career. But no one will ever know you if you don’t give your profile a kick up the backside.”

      She stepped up to him, head thrown back, fingers curled into her palms, those golden eyes positively steaming. And Quinn realised, too late, that yes, she really was still sore about this morning.

      “I can’t be too bad,” she said hotly, “since you practically begged me to design the necklace for you.”

      “Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” he retaliated. “In fact, I argued against you being allowed within ten feet of that diamond.”

      It was like a blow to her gut.

      This morning he’d inflicted a neat cut, chosen his words carefully to put her in her place. She wasn’t to question him, wasn’t to expect anything from him.

      This was punchier, without preamble or foresight. She realised from the stunned look on his face that he hadn’t intended to tell her.

      A deathly hush descended. So Quinn Everard wasn’t here on the pretext that she was the best designer around. Crushed, she felt the blood drain from her face.

      What did she expect? He had only just finished belabouring the point. The best—hah! Who was she kidding? He’d been right, again and again. This

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