The Stars of Mithra: Hidden Star

Puzzles fascinated him. Locating pieces, shuffling them around, trying new angles until they slipped into place, was a challenge that had always satisfied him. It was one of the reasons Cade had bucked family tradition and chosen his particular line of work.

There was enough rebel in him that he would have chosen almost any line of work that bucked family tradition, but opening his own investigation agency had the added benefit of allowing him to call his own shots, solve those puzzles and right a few wrongs along the way.

He had very definite opinions on right and wrong. There were good guys and there were bad guys, there was law and there was crime. Still, he wasn’t naive or simplistic enough not to understand and appreciate the shades of gray. In fact, he often visited gray areas, appreciated them. But there were certain lines that didn’t get crossed.

He also had a logical mind that occasionally took recreational detours into the fanciful.

Most of all, he just loved figuring things out.

He’d spent a good deal of time at the library after he left Bailey that morning, scanning reams of microfiche, hunting for any snippet of news on a stolen blue diamond. He hadn’t had the heart to point out to her that they had no idea where she came from. She might have traveled to D.C. from anywhere over the past few days.

The fact that she, the diamond and the cash were here now didn’t mean that was where they had started out. Neither of them had any idea just how long her memory had been blank.

He’d studied up further on amnesia, but he hadn’t found anything particularly helpful. As far as he could tell, anything could trigger her memory, or it could remain wiped clean, with her new life beginning shortly before she’d walked into his.

He had no doubt she’d been through or witnessed something traumatic. And though it might be considered one of those detours into the fanciful he was sometimes accused of having, he was certain she was innocent of any wrongdoing.

How could a woman with eyes like hers have done anything criminal?

Whatever the answers were, he was dead set on one thing—he meant to protect her. He was even ready to accept the simple fact that he’d fallen for her the moment he saw her. Whoever and whatever Bailey was, she was the woman he’d been waiting for.

So he not only meant to protect her—he meant to keep her.

He’d chosen his first wife for all the logical and traditional reasons. Or, he mused, he’d been fingered—calculatingly—by his in-laws, and also by his own family. And that soulless merger had been a disaster in its very reasonableness.

Since the divorce—which had ruffled everyone’s feathers except those of the two people most involved—he’d dodged and evaded commitment with a master’s consummate skill at avoidance.

He believed the reason for all that was sitting cross-legged on the rug beside him, peering myopically at a book on gemstones.

“Bailey, you need glasses.”

“Hmm?” She had all but pressed her nose into the page.

“It’s just a wild guess, but I’d say you usually wear reading glasses. If your face gets any closer to that book, you’re going to be in it.”

“Oh.” She blinked, rubbed her eyes. “It’s just that the print’s awfully small.”

“Nope. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that tomorrow. We’ve been at this a couple hours. Want a glass of wine?”

“I suppose.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she struggled to bring the text into focus. “The Star of Africa is the largest known cut diamond in existence at 530.2 carats.”

“Sounds like a whopper,” Cade commented as he chose the bottle of Sancerre he’d been saving for the right occasion.

“It’s set in the British royal scepter. It’s too big, and it’s not a blue diamond. So far I haven’t found anything that matches our stone. I wish I had a refractometer.”

“A what?”

“A refractometer,” she repeated, pushing at her hair. “It’s an instrument that measures the characteristic property of a stone. The refractive index.” Her hand froze as he watched her. “How do I know that?”

Carrying two glasses, he settled on the floor beside her again. “What’s the refractive index?”

“It’s the relative ability to refract light. Diamonds are singly refracting. Cade, I don’t understand how I know that.”

“How do you know it’s not a sapphire?” He picked up the stone from where it sat like a paperweight on his notes. “It sure looks like one to me.”

“Sapphires are doubly refracting.” She shuddered. “I’m a jewel thief. That must be how I know.”

“Or you’re a jeweler, a gem expert, or a really rich babe who likes to play with baubles.” He handed her a glass. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Bailey. That’s how you miss details.”

“Okay.” But she had an image of herself dressed all in black, climbing in second-story windows. She drank deeply. “I just wish I could understand why I remember certain things. Refractometers, The Maltese Falcon—”

“The Maltese Falcon?”

“The movie—Bogart, Mary Astor. You had the book in your room, and the movie jumped right into my head. And roses, I know what they smell like, but I don’t know my favorite perfume. I know what a unicorn is, but I don’t know why I’ve got a tattoo of one.”

“It’s a unicorn.” His lips curved up, dimples flashing. “Symbol of innocence.”

She shrugged that off and drank down the rest of her wine quickly. Cade merely passed her his own glass and got up to refill. “And there was this tune playing around in my head while I was in the shower. I don’t know what it is, but I couldn’t get rid of it.” She sipped again, frowned in concentration, then began to hum.

“Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy,”’ he told her. “Beethoven, Bogart and a mythical beast. You continue to fascinate me, Bailey.”

“And what kind of name is Bailey?” she demanded, gesturing expansively with her glass. “Is it my last name or my first? Who would stick a child with a first name like Bailey? I’d rather be Camilla.”

He grinned again, wondered if he should take the wine out of her reach. “No, you wouldn’t. Take my word for it.”

She blew the hair out of her eyes and pouted.

“Tell me about diamonds.”

“They’re a girl’s best friend.” She chuckled, then beamed at him. “Did I make that up?”

“No, honey, you didn’t.” Gently, he took the half-empty glass from her, set it aside. Mental note, he thought—Bailey’s a one-drink wonder. “Tell me what you know about diamonds.”

“They sparkle and shine. They look cold, even feel cold to the touch. That’s how you can easily identify glass trying to pass. Glass is warm, diamonds are cold. That’s because they’re excellent heat conductors. Cold fire.”

She lay on her back, stretching like a cat, and had saliva pooling in his mouth. She closed her eyes.

“It’s the hardest substance known, with a value of ten on Mohs’ hardness scale. All good gem diamonds are white diamonds. A yellowish or brown tinge is considered an imperfection.”

My, oh, my, she thought, and sighed, feeling her head spin. “Blue, green and red diamonds are very rare and highly prized. The color’s caused by the presence of minor elements other than pure carbon.”

“Good.” He studied her face, the curved lips, closed eyes. She might have been talking of a lover. “Keep going.”

“In specific gravity, diamonds range between 3.15 and 3.53, but the value for pure crystals is almost always 3.52. You need brilliancy and fire,” she murmured, stretching lazily again.

Despite his good intentions, his gaze shifted, and he watched her small, firm breasts press against the material of his shirt. “Yeah, I bet.”

“Uncut diamonds have a greasy luster, but when cut, oh, they shine.” She rolled over on her stomach, bent her legs into the air and crossed her ankles. “This is characterized technically as adamantine. The name diamond is derived from the Greek word adamas, meaning ‘invincible.’ There’s such beauty in strength.”