She absolutely, positively could not let Rupert out the door without making a deal. Bradley wouldn’t give up. He’d be on the phone to Oslo within the hour, upping the ante. He’d eventually win Rupert over, and Grandma would never see the brooch again.
“Really, Rupert-” Sydney began, trying not to gasp for air. “It’s a family heirloom.”
Rupert shook his head. “And I give a damn, because?”
Should she tell him the truth? That his mother was an extortionist? Put her cards on the table and betray Grandma?
Betraying Grandma would be better than losing the Thunderbolt forever. Wouldn’t it?
Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating. She needed time to think. Somewhere out of the heat, away from that infernal coffee grinder.
Rupert started for the door.
“Wait!” she called in a dry, hoarse voice.
He turned and gave her a salute. “I need it for Milan, Sydney. Milan and beyond.”
“I can replace it,” she blurted.
He paused with his hand on the knob.
She moved toward him. “I have a replica.”
His brow furrowed.
“It’s good,” she assured him. “It’s
“Half a million,” drawled Bradley.
“I’d have to see it,” Rupert said to Sydney.
“I’ll have it here this afternoon.”
Bradley stood up, clattering his chair against the floor. “For half a million you can make two fakes, and then some.”
Rupert arched a brow. “Within the week?”
A muscle ticked in Bradley’s jaw, and his eyes beaded down to brown dots.
Rupert shook a warning finger at Sydney. “I’ll look at it, but it would have to be perfect.”
“It’s perfect,” said Sydney, counting on the fact that the faceted diamonds were only a historical flaw.
He hesitated for a long minute. Then he nodded his head. “Here. Two o’clock. Right now, I have a conference call.”
As soon as he disappeared, Sydney groped for her cell phone. Bradley pulled his out of his pocket and left the cafe. Calling Oslo no doubt. He’d be back with a higher offer this afternoon.
Never mind Norway, thought Sydney as she punched in Grandma’s number.
By two o’clock, Cole was forced to face the fact that he’d been duped.
Sydney wasn’t coming back. Whatever it was that had brought her flying to Miami must have been a damn good lead. She’d obviously decided she didn’t need him anymore, and she’d had no compunction about ditching him.
Maybe she was going to sell the Thunderbolt on the black market. Maybe she’d decided that one big score was worth giving up her career. Maybe she’d never been from the Laurent Museum in the first place.
Lies upon lies upon lies.
Whatever it was she’d decided, it definitely included screwing him.
He stood up from the sofa and crossed the room to retrieve the address from the wastepaper basket.
One of Joseph Neely’s clerks personally delivered the fake Thunderbolt to the Miami airport. Sydney met him there and made it back to the cafe with less than five minutes to spare. Where, to her surprise, Rupert pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and began inspecting the brooch.
Bradley sat next to her, drumming his fingers against the plastic tablecloth, all traces of his flirtatious persona gone.
“Five hundred and fifty thousand,” he ventured, and she knew his profit margin was diminishing. He was going for pride now, pure and simple.
Sydney stared directly into Bradley’s eyes. “Four hundred thousand, plus the replica.”
Rupert paused, looking up from his inspection. “Will you two
The muscle in Bradley’s jaw began ticking again.
After an excruciating fifteen minutes, Rupert returned the loupe to his jacket pocket. He closed the case on the fake Thunderbolt, and Sydney held her breath.
Finally, he put his hand out to Sydney, palm up. “Four hundred thousand.”
“A cashier’s check?” she asked, her heart smacking against her rib cage.
Bradley swore, but Rupert silenced him with a glare.
“A cashier’s check will be fine.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from his breast pocket. “And you can sign here.”
It was Sydney’s turn to hold out her hand, palm up.
Rupert smiled his admiration, then he reached into the same pocket and pulled out a worn jewelry case.
She clicked it open, and her entire body shuddered in relief.
“May I?” she asked, pointing to the pocket that held the loupe.
He retrieved it. “Be my guest.”
She checked the jewels, then she turned the brooch over to check the casting. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in the pit of her stomach. The Thunderbolt was going home.
She pulled out the envelope containing the two cashiers’ checks-one from Grandma’s line of credit, the other from Sydney’s savings account.
Rupert handed her the pen.
Bradley smacked his fist down on the table.
The transaction was over with surprising speed, and all three of them stood.
“You need an escort to a taxi?” asked Rupert, slanting a glance at Bradley.
Sydney chuckled, enjoying the moment. Glad to have thwarted Bradley, excited about telling Cole, and absolutely thrilled for Grandma.
“I don’t think he’ll mug me,” she answered.
“Man,” muttered Bradley. “You’re a freakin’ lunatic,” he said to Rupert.
“It was interesting to meet you, Sydney,” said Rupert, ignoring Bradley’s pithy comment and striding for the door.
Sydney zipped her purse securely shut and tucked it under her arm.
“Don’t look so smug,” said Bradley.
“I’m not smug,” she returned as they paced for the exit. “I’m happy for the Erickson family.”
“Don’t you ever gag over all that syrupy sweetness you call a personality?”
Sydney opened the glass door and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Been nice doing business with you, Bradley.” Then she turned her head and took a step, walking straight into Cole’s broad chest.
He grabbed her by the upper arms and put her away from him. “You lying, cheating, little-”
“Cole!”
He was dressed like Texas again. A denim shirt, his sleeves rolled up, with faded blue jeans riding low on his hips. His boots gave him an extra inch, and he looked truly dangerous.
He glared past her, eyes hardening on Bradley. “Looks like you changed your mind about slitting your wrists.”
No. Oh, no.
Her stomach turned to a block of concrete. She had to explain. She had to make him understand. “It’s not-”
Cole shut her up with a look of ice. “Don’t even bother.”
“But-”
