Seduction And Sacrifice

A dampening dismay was beginning to invade when Gemma checked her self-pity with a stern hand. What did it matter what she looked like? The man was married. Decent girls did not try to attract married men. And she was a decent girl. Or so she hoped.

Clutching the straw handbag in which she’d placed her precious legacy that morning, Gemma lifted her chin and strode purposefully into the office. But the moment her gaze rested once more on that handsome blond head and those fascinating grey eyes, she was lost.

Was she imagining things or was he looking at her the way some of the male customers at the café back at the Ridge had started looking at her? As though they’d like to have her on their plate and not a hamburger and chips. Gemma was quietly appalled that for the first time in her life she liked being looked at like that.

His hunger was fleeting, however, if that was what she’d glimpsed, Nathan Whitmore getting to his feet and coming round to shake her hand with a cool and impersonal politeness. ‘Miss Smith,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘How nice to see you again. Would you like to sit down while I get the door?’ And he indicated an upright wooden-backed chair that sat in front of the desk.

Gemma sat down, trying not to look as depressed as she suddenly felt. Couldn’t he at least have called her Gemma?

She watched him walk back round behind his impressive desk, equally impressive in a dark blue suit which fitted his body to perfection and highlighted his golden hair. He’d had it cut since she last saw him, she realised, for when he bent forward slightly on sitting down no wayward lock fell in boyish disarray across his forehead. The sleek, ultra-groomed look gave him a crisp, no-nonsense, almost forbidding air which she still found disturbingly attractive.

Her mind flew to his wife and her dramatic exit. What had he said or done to upset her so much? Why had she called him impossible?

The man who’d been so kind to her out at the Ridge was far from impossible. He’d been sweet. Sweet and warm and caring. Still, it appeared that man had been left behind in the outback of Australia. The pragmatic individual sitting behind his city desk in his plush city office seemed like a different person.

‘So, how can I help you?’ he opened up.

Gemma stared at him. No questions about how she was, or how was her trip to Sydney, or where was she staying, just straight down to brass tacks. Her disappointment was sharp, but she gathered herself to answer coolly.

‘I have an opal I would like valued.’ If he was going to be all business, then so was she. ‘You do valuations here, don’t you?’

‘We do.’

‘I realise they aren’t free. I’m quite prepared to pay whatever the going price is.’

He waived her offer with a dismissive gesture of his hand. ‘That won’t be necessary. Do you have this opal with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I could give you a reasonable estimate immediately, if you like.’ He smiled, and she felt a lurch in her stomach.

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’ Gemma was only too glad to drag her eyes away from that handsome smiling face to dig the opal out from the depths of her handbag. She’d wrapped it in an old checked teatowel. As she stood up to place her treasure on the desk before him, butterflies crowded her stomach. What if it wasn’t worth as much as she hoped? What if she’d been mistaken about its rarity? Maybe it would prove to be flawed in some way. She didn’t have any experience with opals of this size and quality. Nathan leant over and picked the stone up, turning it over in his hands as she had done.

‘My God,’ was the first thing he said, his voice a shocked whisper.

He peered down at the black opal for a long time, turning it this way and that to catch the brilliant and glowing flashes of light. Finally, his gaze snapped up to hers. ‘Where did you get this?’ he demanded to know.

Gemma was startled by the accusation in his question. It flustered her. ‘I...I...my father left it to me.’

‘And where did he get it?’

She blinked. ‘I suppose he found it. In one of his claims.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ he said slowly.

Gemma’s mind was racing. What was he thinking? That Dad stole it?

This solution to her father’s possessing such a treasure had not occurred to Gemma before. The ramifications of it being true struck a severe blow. Ashen-faced, she stared across at the man peering at her with steely eyes.

‘You think he stole it, don’t you?’ she cried.

When Nathan didn’t deny it, she groaned, and slumped back into her chair.

‘Oh, my God...’ Her head dropped into her hands, all her dreams crumbling on the spot. She should have known, should have guessed. Her father would have sold that opal if he’d had a legal right to it. But he hadn’t... And neither did she...

‘Gemma...’

She glanced up through soggy lashes to see Nathan squatting beside her chair. His face had softened to a semblance of the face she remembered from the motel and her heart turned over.

‘I have no proof at this moment that your opal was stolen,’ he said gently, ‘but it resembles a stone that disappeared over twenty years ago. If you like, I can have it looked at by the man who owned it before it vanished. Believe me when I say you will not get into trouble, no matter what happens.’

‘Who...who is the rightful owner?’

‘If it is the opal I think it is, then it’s Byron...my father.’

Gemma gasped. ‘But how incredible!’

‘Not so incredible. There was a time when Whitmore Opals was one of the only two opal-trading companies in New South Wales. They owned many precious opals, this one included.’

A thought struck Gemma and she frowned. ‘How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’

Nathan stood up, his eyes cooling. ‘The theft was registered with the police at the time, as was a detailed description of the opal. You can check it out if you like.’

Gemma felt small for having doubted him. ‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘I believe you.’

‘If you like I will have a photograph taken of the opal and give you a receipt for it, then if it turns out not to be the opal in question it will be returned to you. Of course, if this happens, we would like the opportunity to buy it from you. An opal of this beauty and rarity does not come up for sale very often.’

Gemma decided it would be foolish to be too trusting, so she accepted this offer, at the same time agreeing to give Whitmore Opals first right of purchase. But intuition told her this would never come about. The opal had not legally been her father’s, and it would never legally be hers. All her dreams had been dashed. Suddenly, she was here in Sydney, staying in a cheap hotel, with just under a thousand dollars in her purse, no job, no friends and no opal.

A deep depression settled on her, making her shoulders sag.

‘I’ll have Moira get you a cup of coffee while you wait,’ Nathan said. ‘Or would you prefer tea?’

‘No, coffee,’ she said limply.

‘Black or white?’

‘White with one sugar.’

Moira brought her a couple of biscuits with the coffee, which Gemma ate gratefully, knowing she would have to conserve her money now. She was thinking about what her next move would be when Nathan returned with the photo and receipt, and a black leather briefcase.

‘I’ll take the opal to the hospital for Byron to look at this afternoon,’ he said, patting the briefcase.

‘The hospital?’

‘Byron was in a boating accident a few weeks back. He was lucky to survive. His wife and a couple of friends were killed.’

‘Oh, how awful! The poor man.’