Diamonds Can Be Deadly by Merline Lovelace

option,” hesaid, his eyes glinting, “but I’m certainly willing to give it a shot.”
    Enough was enough. Jordan had to get the man out of the bathroom. And she’d damn well better do it before he noticed the thermal suit wadded up in the corner. Conceding this skirmish with something less than graciousness, she jerked her chin toward the door.
    â€œWait for me in the other room. I’ll dry off, throw on a robe and join you there.”
    * * *
    When TJ retreated to the sitting room, every one of his instincts had clicked into high gear. Right along with his libido.
    Grimacing at the heat Jordan had stirred in his belly, he stared through the open shutters at the dark, restless sea. He’d tried to play it cool, had done his best to keep things professional, but the sight of her almost naked had blown just about every one of his circuits.
    With his brain recording the erotic details and his blood making a quick trip south, TJ was surprised he’d picked up on her lie. He didn’t know why she’d fed him the line about the shampoo, but his gut told him it was just that. The untouched bottle on the vanity, paired with her too-casual move to block his view of the shower stall, would have been sufficient to rouse his suspicions.
    Then there was the bundle on the floor of Jordan’s bathroom. He’d almost missed it, caught only aglimpse as he turned away. One glimpse was enough to raise another red flag. That bundle sure looked like a wet suit, one that had been recently worn. But the on-duty security officer reported Jordan hadn’t left her cottage since returning from dinner.
    The suspicion that was second nature to a cop took over from the man still sporting a hard bulge in his jeans. What the hell was Jordan up to? Why had she picked Bartholomew Greene as a potential business partner just weeks after he’d hired a new director of security? Was she out for revenge, plotting to drag TJ into the gutter the way he’d once dragged her?
    The memory of that made him cringe inside. What a mess! Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he stared out at the inky darkness.
    He still didn’t know how it had happened. All he’d intended was a few hours in the leggy ex-model’s company. That night at the charity event, the Sunday afternoon in Central Park, the invitation to drive up to Connecticut for the weekend… All orchestrated to finesse the intriguing, intoxicating Jordan Colby into bed.
    He certainly hadn’t planned on becoming as fascinated with her mind as he was with her sensuous body. Nor had he figured on moving with lightning speed from plain old-fashioned lust to something harder to define. And he sure as hell had never dreamed Jordan would be in his bed when officers from his own precinct busted down his door.
    The swish of cloth slippers on carpet told himJordan had finished in the bathroom. Slamming the door on his memories, TJ turned. She’d wrapped her hair in a towel turban and belted on one of the resort’s monogrammed robes. It took everything he had not to think about what was under that thick, white terry cloth.
    â€œYou don’t need to play doc,” she said dismissively. “My hand is fine.”
    â€œThere’s a slight matter of liability at stake here. Let’s see it.”
    â€œI’m not going to sue the institute.”
    â€œLet’s see it.”
    Taking her hand in a light hold, he performed a visual inspection. She’d hit the edge of her hand, just below the little finger. The bruise was already an ugly red and purpling fast, but he didn’t spot any swelling, protrusions or awkward joint angles that would indicate a fracture or dislocation.
    â€œHow bad does it hurt?”
    â€œIt doesn’t. Much.”
    Gently TJ manipulated her little finger. When it moved freely without a wince or a grunt on Jordan’s part, he tested the metacarpal, the wrist and her lower