Diamonds Can Be Deadly by Merline Lovelace Page B

after the group session Greene had talked her into. And that seaweed wrap, she thought, remembering Felicity Waller-Winston’s sly comment about the spa director. If the dark-haired Eurasian had gotten as close to TJ as Felicity had hinted, Jordan might be able to worm some information about him and their mutual employer out of the woman.
    The plan should have sparked a sense of anticipation. Instead, the idea of pumping Liana Wu for intimate details about TJ left almost as sour a tastein Jordan’s mouth as the prospect of listening to Felicity go into detail about her horny state.
    Her mouth curling, she retrieved a towel from the bathroom, yanked a tray of ice cubes from the mini-fridge and slapped an ice pack over her injured hand.
    * * *
    How the hell did she do it?
    His jaw tight, TJ cut across the grounds to the building that housed the security center.
    How the hell did the woman tie him in knots every time he got within five feet of her?
    Granted, a man would have to be dead from the neck down not to react to the sight that had greeted TJ when he’d entered the steam-filled bathroom. He suspected the erotic image would keep him awake for most of the night. That and the fact that Jordan had lied to him.
    Still puzzling over her slip about the shampoo, TJ let himself in through the rear door of the administrative center. With its wide porch, green shutters and high, hipped roof, the building blended in with the turn-of-the-century style of the other structures. The offices inside, however, were equipped with the best that money could buy.
    Housekeeping and personnel took up one wing, maintenance another. TJ’s domain included offices for him and his second in command, a locker room and break area for his staff of thirty, an administrative area and the ops center lined with banks of monitors.
    There was also an armory stocked with a lethal assortment of weapons. TJ insisted his people hone their skills regularly at the firing range. The wealthy, high-profile guests who sequestered themselves at the Tranquility Institute made too tempting a target for stalkers or kidnappers.
    The security officer working the 7:00 a.m. to 2:00 a.m. shift looked up when his boss entered. “How’s Ms. Colby?”
    â€œYou pegged it. She did take a fall.”
    â€œShe okay?”
    â€œShe hit her hand going down, but I don’t think she broke any bones.”
    TJ snagged a cup of coffee from the pot his security crew kept perking twenty-four-seven. The sludge looked like something pumped out by an exhaust pipe and was probably ninety-nine percent caffeine, but he didn’t figure he’d get much sleep tonight anyway.
    â€œYou’ve got the incident recorded in your log, right?”
    â€œYes, sir.” The officer used a mouse to scroll down the electronic log. “Right here.”
    TJ scanned the lines and was about to signal his approval, when a brief entry just above caught his attention. Frowning, he leaned over the officer’s shoulder.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œOne of the intrusion-detection devices at the main business center went down. It came right backup again, but I made a note for maintenance to test the system first thing in the morning.”
    â€œShow me which device.”
    A click of the mouse brought up the business center’s security grid. Another click tagged the device protecting one of the first-floor windows.
    â€œDid you direct the cameras to sweep that area?”
    â€œYes, sir, as soon as the device went down.”
    â€œPull up the sweep,” TJ instructed, a tight feeling in his gut. “I want to see it.”

CHAPTER 5
    T he morning group gathered in a large, airy room at the Meditation Center. Outside, a tropical shower pattered down on broad-leafed palms and banyans. Inside, fans whirled lazily, drawing in the spongy scent of wet earth.
    Jordan had taken her cue from the casual resort attire she’d observed last night.