A very tall, very stacked, very attractive brunette approached them with a smile that spread for miles. “Might I help you, ladies?”
Monica took over. “Is Gill here?”
The lady’s smile waivered. “Of course.”
As Miss Plastic turned to leave, Dakota whispered, “You know someone who works here?”
Monica shook her head. “No, but Trent does. Talks about this guy all the time.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Mary asked.
“So here’s what we’ll do. Dakota, you look, play, fiddle. Mary and I will tag team at your side while I check out a few things in the store. Sound good?”
“How am I supposed to fiddle?”
“You’re a writer . . . you can figure it out.”
Mary chuckled while a tall, extremely attractive man stepped from the back of the store.
“Ladies?” He stopped in front of them and Dakota was sure the sound of Mary dropping an egg was heard over their collective gasps. “I understand you’re looking for me?”
“We are?” Mary asked.
“We are.”
Dakota leaned into Mary. “You like Glen.”
Mary shook herself and the temporary insanity created by masculine beauty eased.
“I’m Monica Fairchild,” Monica announced while she placed her hand in the jeweler’s. “My husband shops here . . . or so I’m told.”
“Trent. Yes, he does. We went to school together.”
Monica smiled. “Is that right? He didn’t tell me that.”
“Some secrets are meant to be held close, don’t you think?”
Monica’s eyes grew wide and looked Dakota’s way. “Well, we’re here to help my friend.”
Gill focused on Dakota and practically dismissed Monica.
“Maybe you know her. Dakota Laurens.”
Gill offered a blank stare, not that Dakota expected anything different. Men in particular weren’t her reading public.
The brunette who had searched Gill out lit up. “The author?”
Monica smiled and Dakota studied the floor.
“Yes, the author. She’s looking at rings.”
The entire idea started to give Dakota chills. “I don’t know about this, Monica.”
“C’mon. Gill is the best in the business. Trent only deals with the best. If there isn’t something you like here, they can have it made . . . right, Gill?”
Gill offered a thousand-watt smile. “We do custom work all the time.” He walked around the counter and shook Dakota’s hand. “I’ve never met an author.”
She smiled, shook his hand, and loosened the scarf around her neck. “I hope we’re not wasting your time.”
“Any friend of a Fairchild is a friend of mine.”
Funny how a jeweler wanted to be friends with a gazillionaire’s lady friends. “I really don’t know what I’m looking for.”
He led her to a counter and offered her a chair. “Monica said a ring.”
“She writes romance novels. The sexy kind that always end with big diamonds and lots of glitter,” Monica told him.
Gill laughed and pulled a platform of rings from the showcase. “A lady such as yourself must have an idea of what she’d like to see on her own hand.”
Dakota glanced at the rings sitting in front of her and sighed. “Actually, I’ve no idea. Every character has her own ideas of the perfect setting. Personally, I’ve never given it much thought.”
“Well then, we have some work to do.”
Monica and Mary stood close while Gill showed her several settings. Most of the solitary-diamond, traditional two-band settings did nothing for her taste buds. Only when she shooed her friends off did Gill bring out the more glittery rings that Dakota didn’t mind saying she liked.
He placed a large round diamond with double bands of smaller diamonds intertwined on her finger. “We can change the shape and quality of the stone,” he told her.
“This is lovely.”
“You have an eye for quality,” Gill told her.
Dakota knew how to read between the lines.
“Quality means money. Do I even want to ask what this costs?”
He smiled. “Probably not.”
She shrugged out of her coat and pulled her hair behind her. Dakota looked over her shoulder, noticed Mary and Monica looking at earrings.
“Should we talk budget?” Gill asked.
“Probably not,” Dakota mimicked his words. “But a girl can dream . . . right?”
She looked at the ring one last time, removed it, and set it on the counter. “What else do you have?”
Trent slapped a well-placed hand on Walt’s back. “Gill and I go way back.”
Walt watched Dakota on video.
Gill paused the video. “This is the only one she actually wore for any length of time and sighed when she took it off.”
Walt peered closer. “I know nothing about diamonds.”
Gill removed a box from his pocket and placed it in front of Walt.
“It’s three and a half carats GIA certified . . .” He went on to spout numbers and letters. None of which made any sense to Walt. “The minute I started talking budget, she took it off and asked to look at other rings.”
When Gill told him the cost, Walt understood Dakota’s hesitation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A buzzer . . . a bell. No, an earthquake.
Dakota shook herself awake and recognized a phone ringing. It took several seconds to orient herself.