Diamonds Can Be Deadly

Diamonds Can Be Deadly
Merline Lovelace

If diamonds were a girl's best friend…Then emeralds came in a close second. So when ex-model-turned-agent Jordan Colby–Code Name: Diamond–was sent to Kauai to find a missing green gem, she jumped at the chance. There was just one hitch: the presence of her ex-fiancé, T. J. Scott, a former New York City cop who'd turned his back on everything that had meant anything to him. Starting with her…Or had he? T.J.'s sizzling stares were starting to convince her that his feelings for her had never cooled, and his protectiveness convinced her that he was one of the good guys after all. But if there was one thing she was beginning to learn, it was that dazzling surfaces were no reflection of what lay beneath….

“Well, hell. You really did a number on yourself.”

T.J.’s gaze had dropped to the middle of her chest. Glancing down, Jordan saw a mottled bruise already forming on the hand gripping the towel.

“It’s nothing. I just hit my hand on the counter when I went down.”

He crossed the room in two strides. “Better let me take a look at that.”

“Hey! Do you mind? I’m naked here.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” was T.J.’s response. “Give me your hand, Red.”

And release her death grip on the towel? Jordan didn’t think so. “What are you going to do?” she jeered. “Kiss the boo-boo and make it better?”

His grin slipped out then. The same grin that used to give her quivers. “The NYPD first responder’s medical training didn’t include kissing as a treatment option.

“But I’m certainly willing to give it a shot.”

Dear Reader,

I’ve visited Hawaii many times but was struck all over again by its beauty when my husband and I cruised the islands a few months ago. Jagged mountains, lush vegetation, steep ravines—nothing like all that wild splendor to fire a writer’s imagination and get her thinking about perfect spots for clandestine operations and/or buried bodies!

Then there’s the romance of the islands. How could anyone not fall in love on a spun-sugar beach kissed by tropical breezes and soft, shimmering waves? Sigh… So naturally I had to set Book #1 in the continuation of my CODE NAME: DANGER series in beautiful Hawaii. Hope you enjoy the adventures of T. J. Scott and Jordan Colby, aka Diamond, as much as I did.

And be sure to watch for Book #2, coming from Silhouette Desire in May 2006. Set along the coast of Baja, Mexico, Devlin and the Deep Blue Sea involves a tough, sexy undercover agent, a chopper pilot working the offshore oil rigs and a particularly smarmy shark.

All my best,

Merline Lovelace

Diamonds Can Be Deadly

Merline Lovelace

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

MERLINE LOVELACE

spent twenty-three years in the U.S. Air Force, pulling tours in Vietnam, at the Pentagon and at bases all over the world. When she hung up her uniform, she decided to try her hand at writing. She’s since had more than fifty novels published, with over seven million copies of her work in print. Watch for Devlin and the Deep Blue Sea, the next book in the CODE NAME: DANGER series, coming in May from Silhouette Desire.

For my sweetie and that never-to-be-forgotten

evening on the balcony of the Sheraton Hawaii!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Prologue

It was the kind of party only Georg Vostok could throw, a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-head gala to benefit victims of the devastating earthquake that had all but destroyed his native Chekistan. Vostok had skimmed the very top layers of Palm Beach’s vacationing elite. Movie stars rubbed elbows with Armani-clad mafia. Politicians and poet laureates poured booze down their throats with equal enthusiasm. A sleek, wellknown madame smiled seductively as she sized up potential clients. There was even a smattering of royalty.

The arrival of an elderly French duke barely stirred a ripple of interest, but the American-born wife of the sultan of D’han stopped all conversation dead when her bodyguards escorted her into the soaring glass foyer of the Institute of Modern Art. Blond and bronzed, the sultana had traded her burqa for a strapless white evening gown that showed off her slender curves and formed a perfect backdrop for the Star of the East. The 900-carat oval emerald was set in a plain gold bezel suspended from a gold chain. Shooting sparks of green fire, it drew every eye at the gala.

A smile rearranged the lines of Georg’s dour, craggy face. Thrusting his Baccarat champagne flute at a waiter, he hurried forward to greet her. “Barbara. You have come!”

The sultana brushed past her bodyguards, took Vostok’s outstretched hands and stooped for a kiss. “For you, my darling Georg, anytime.”

“No, no! For my beloved Chekistan.” His smile faded. “You cannot imagine the horror. I tell you, Barbara, I have seen nothing like it. It haunts my dreams, my every waking moment.”

“We’ll help, Georg. My husband has earmarked fifty million for immediate aid, and we’ll—”