Midnight in Ruby Bayou by Elizabeth Lowell Page A

excuse. My time is small and my need is big.”
    She hoped her smile hid her relief. She really didn’t feel like courting a customer over coffee and small talk.
    â€œThen I’ll do my best to help you quickly, Mr. Ivanovitch. You mentioned something about a carved stone, but not a modern one?”
    â€œA ruby, yes,” he said, watching her intently, seeking any of the usual signs of nervousness. He saw clear skin, a trace of impatience that had nothing to do with nerves, and forthright blue eyes. “A gift, you comprehend? To my mother. She cherishes such things. To celebrate her eightieth name day, I wish to make a proper gift.” He leaned forward, measuring every nuance of Faith’s expression. “I am told a designer of your high quality has such stones.”
    Faith ignored the flattery and forced herself not to step back from the man’s intense eyes and manner. She felt surrounded by him, almost threatened. She reminded herself that conversational distance varied from culture to culture. Putting more space between herself and her client could easily be interpreted as rudeness.
    She held her ground. “I have a few carved rubies. My brothers travel all over the world. They keep their eyes open for special stones for my jewelry-design business.”
    â€œExcellent.”
    â€œIf you’ll excuse me, I’ll get them.”
    Ivanovitch nodded in the manner of a man who was accustomed to being waited on. While Faith went to the closet-sized, high-tech safe, he glanced through the contents of her glass cases. Whatever he might have thought of the unusual designs didn’t show on his broad face.
    Discreetly Ray watched the client when the safe door swung soundlessly open. For all the reaction Ivanovitch gave, Faith could have been opening a closet full of cleaning supplies. Nor did he seem to care that she closed and locked the safe behind her when she brought out a handful of boxes.
    Ray moved to a different angle when she set out the boxes on top of one of the glass display cases. He was pleased to note that Faith stayed on the opposite side of the case from the unknown client. Apparently some of his safety pointers had stuck in her stubborn Donovan mind. Or maybe she just didn’t like the smell of stale cigarettes that clung to the man’s expensive clothes.
    Shifting slightly, Ray moved to a position where he could get between Faith and her customer in one step. Not that he expected to. Like unbuttoning his jacket when he sat, it was simply second nature to position himself to be in the right place in case things went wrong.
    Ivanovitch noticed and understood every move. Fortunately, he was prepared to buy the ruby at any price. Tarasov had made it clear that he didn’t want any incidents, any publicity, any hint that the ruby had ever left the Hermitage. Ivanovitch knew the cost of failing. He had no desire to become wedded to the Neva’s icy surface, only to vanish forever with the spring thaw.
    â€œI have only three carved rubies that aren’t modern,” Faith said. “They’re fairly rare. Most of the carvings were done by Mughals or Persians, and they favored emeralds. In addition to being a holy color, emerald is softer, and therefore easier to carve than a ruby. Nothing is harder than a ruby except a diamond. Today, of course, modern machinery allows any stone to be carved. The Germans excel at it.”
    Ivanovitch listened politely, but his eyes never left the box that Faith was opening. He was waiting for the first sign that the Heart of Midnight was within reach.
    Seeing his intensity, Faith almost smiled. No matter the nationality, a collector was still a collector—avid to acquire something new. She was willing to bet that beneath his expensive leather gloves, his palms were sweating. No matter what he had said before, he wasn’t buying a stone for his eighty-year-old mother’s name day. He was buying for himself.
    He