was spectacular. It glowed like a dawn moon against the dark velvet of the case. The discreet card said two things: the jade belonged to Richard Farmer, and it was not for sale.
“Normally I don’t care for Sung pieces,” Kyle said, staring over the heads of several people at the case. “This one might rearrange my prejudices. Just as well it isn’t for sale. It would take pockets as deep as Dick Farmer’s to buy it. Is he one of your clients?”
“I’ve never dealt directly with him,” Lianne said.
Kyle wondered if she was being intentionally evasive. Farmer could be a client of hers and still never have seen her face-to-face. A self-made multibillionaire in the gray world of international technology resale, Farmer had legions of people sweating with eagerness to take care of his business for him. And his billions.
“Do you know who acquired this bowl for Farmer?” Kyle asked.
“Chang Wo Sun would be my guess.”
“Never heard of him. Is he a jade player?”
“No. He’s a facilitator for SunCo.”
“I didn’t know SunCo had any deals going with Farmer.”
“They don’t. Yet. I suspect the bowl is part of a rather complex and very Chinese courtship ritual.”
As Lianne spoke, she stood on tiptoe and tried to look over two men to see the Sung bowl. When her view was cut off by a casual shift of shoulders, she made a frustrated sound.
Then she made a startled one as the floor dropped beneath her feet until she was head and shoulders above the crowd, suspended between Kyle’s big hands.
“Better view?” he asked blandly.
“Much. Um, thanks.”
“All part of the stuffed-elephant service.”
Lianne laughed even as she wondered if he felt the sudden drumming of her heart the way she felt the warmth of his hands locked around her ribs. She hoped he would assume that the sudden speeding of her heart came from surprise, rather than from a simple feminine response to the heat and strength of the man holding her.
After the first few breaths, Lianne decided that she liked the view very well indeed. Just below her, a woman’s intricate hair ornament dipped and swayed like a pearl ballerina as the woman tilted her head from side to side, studying the elegant Sung bowl. Just over her shoulder, a man’s head revealed a bald spot on top, a natural tonsure he tried to conceal by combing hair over it. A delegation from mainland China stood to one side of the case. In defiance of Seattle civic law, they had cigarette smoke like a permanent fog over their heads.
And when Lianne looked over her shoulder, she saw that the same man who had followed her in lockstep from her car was still behind her. He was trying quietly, quickly, urgently to fade out of her newly enhanced line of sight.
Gotcha.
Lianne smiled with grim pleasure even as anxiety prickled hot and cold over her skin. No doubt the man had thought keeping track of her discreetly would be easy—just follow the tall Anglo, and short, little old Lianne would never be far away.
“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” Kyle said, feeling the sudden tension in Lianne’s body. “I’ve carried packs heavier than you over high mountain passes.”
“I’m not worried about you.”
The man who had succeeded in pulling the crowd around him like a multicolored fog was another thing entirely. He worried Lianne. She stared at the people behind her for a minute longer, but didn’t see him again. He had vanished as though he was no more than a product of her imagination.
And maybe he was. Maybe she was just jumpy about wearing nearly a million dollars in jade jewelry that wasn’t hers.
“Thanks, I’ve seen enough,” Lianne said.
Kyle lowered her to the floor, leaned down, and asked against her ear, “Did you recognize him?”
The flinch of surprise that she couldn’t conceal told Kyle that he was right: her attention hadn’t been on jade.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lianne said.
Disappointment and impatience flared in Kyle.
“Normally I don’t care for Sung pieces,” Kyle said, staring over the heads of several people at the case. “This one might rearrange my prejudices. Just as well it isn’t for sale. It would take pockets as deep as Dick Farmer’s to buy it. Is he one of your clients?”
“I’ve never dealt directly with him,” Lianne said.
Kyle wondered if she was being intentionally evasive. Farmer could be a client of hers and still never have seen her face-to-face. A self-made multibillionaire in the gray world of international technology resale, Farmer had legions of people sweating with eagerness to take care of his business for him. And his billions.
“Do you know who acquired this bowl for Farmer?” Kyle asked.
“Chang Wo Sun would be my guess.”
“Never heard of him. Is he a jade player?”
“No. He’s a facilitator for SunCo.”
“I didn’t know SunCo had any deals going with Farmer.”
“They don’t. Yet. I suspect the bowl is part of a rather complex and very Chinese courtship ritual.”
As Lianne spoke, she stood on tiptoe and tried to look over two men to see the Sung bowl. When her view was cut off by a casual shift of shoulders, she made a frustrated sound.
Then she made a startled one as the floor dropped beneath her feet until she was head and shoulders above the crowd, suspended between Kyle’s big hands.
“Better view?” he asked blandly.
“Much. Um, thanks.”
“All part of the stuffed-elephant service.”
Lianne laughed even as she wondered if he felt the sudden drumming of her heart the way she felt the warmth of his hands locked around her ribs. She hoped he would assume that the sudden speeding of her heart came from surprise, rather than from a simple feminine response to the heat and strength of the man holding her.
After the first few breaths, Lianne decided that she liked the view very well indeed. Just below her, a woman’s intricate hair ornament dipped and swayed like a pearl ballerina as the woman tilted her head from side to side, studying the elegant Sung bowl. Just over her shoulder, a man’s head revealed a bald spot on top, a natural tonsure he tried to conceal by combing hair over it. A delegation from mainland China stood to one side of the case. In defiance of Seattle civic law, they had cigarette smoke like a permanent fog over their heads.
And when Lianne looked over her shoulder, she saw that the same man who had followed her in lockstep from her car was still behind her. He was trying quietly, quickly, urgently to fade out of her newly enhanced line of sight.
Gotcha.
Lianne smiled with grim pleasure even as anxiety prickled hot and cold over her skin. No doubt the man had thought keeping track of her discreetly would be easy—just follow the tall Anglo, and short, little old Lianne would never be far away.
“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” Kyle said, feeling the sudden tension in Lianne’s body. “I’ve carried packs heavier than you over high mountain passes.”
“I’m not worried about you.”
The man who had succeeded in pulling the crowd around him like a multicolored fog was another thing entirely. He worried Lianne. She stared at the people behind her for a minute longer, but didn’t see him again. He had vanished as though he was no more than a product of her imagination.
And maybe he was. Maybe she was just jumpy about wearing nearly a million dollars in jade jewelry that wasn’t hers.
“Thanks, I’ve seen enough,” Lianne said.
Kyle lowered her to the floor, leaned down, and asked against her ear, “Did you recognize him?”
The flinch of surprise that she couldn’t conceal told Kyle that he was right: her attention hadn’t been on jade.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lianne said.
Disappointment and impatience flared in Kyle.
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