Donovans 02 - Jade Island

herself. Think of the Tangs as clients and everyone will be happier. Actually, think of them as former clients. Because in a few hours, they probably would be just that. Former.
    Lianne forced her thoughts away from the Tangs and thought of last night instead. And this morning. What a wonderful way to turn thirty. An iridescent thrill shot through her from her breasts to her knees as she remembered lying in bed with Kyle’s beautiful eyes, smoky from desire, looking at her. Just looking at her.
    She had felt sensitive all over, fully alive, loved. Or at least enjoyed. Thoroughly. She had never known a lover like Kyle—hungry, intense, sensual to the soles of his feet, giving as much as he took. Giving more. One night with him, and every man she had ever known, even the one she had once loved, was now in a category labeled “BK: Before Kyle.”
    And after Kyle…?
    The thought of “after” didn’t appeal to Lianne. She was thirty years old now, more than old enough to understand that men like Kyle Donovan were rarer than imperial jade. She knew she should prepare herself for the emptiness to come, but this morning she simply didn’t have the energy. She felt too good, especially the sweet ache that came when she thought about holding him hard and hungry, so deep inside her she felt like part of him, same breath, same heartbeat, same sleek, sweaty skin.
    And Kyle did care about her outside of bed. He wanted to help her.
    Lianne, we’ve got to talk. Are you in some kind of trouble because of these jades?
    There’s nothing to be done for it, Kyle. I’ll take the jades back to Wen and tell him that I don’t want to broker any more blind trades for the Tangs.
    And then what?
    Kyle’s question echoed in Lianne’s memory. She hadn’t wanted to think about the future, much less talk about it, so she stopped his questions by the oldest method of all. She slid her hands down his wonderful, naked body. And then she slid her mouth.
    A polite tapping on the driver’s window startled Lianne out of her sultry memories. She saw a middle-aged man in a dark gray suit. He held a badge in his hand and motioned for her to roll down the window. When she did, cool air gusted in, lifting tendrils of her black hair.
    “What is it?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
    “Could I see some ID, ma’am?”
    “Driver’s license? Passport?”
    “Either one would be fine, ma’am.”
    She took her purse from the passenger seat and pulled out her wallet. Her Washington driver’s license wasn’t in the first place she looked, or the second. She finally found it stuck in her checkbook, where she had last needed it for identification.
    “Here you are,” she said, handing over the license.
    The man glanced at it, measured her against the color photo, and said, “Ms. Blakely, would you get out of the car, please?”
    “Why? Is something wrong with the license? I just renewed it a few weeks ago.”
    The man opened her door and waited. Frowning, Lianne slid out of the car and stood up.
    “Ms. Blakely, you’re under arrest for grand theft, smuggling, and sale of stolen goods.”
    At first Lianne thought he was joking. Before she could do more than make a startled sound, he had turned her around and cuffed her hands behind her back. A woman in a neat business suit appeared at the man’s elbow. With smooth efficiency, she searched Lianne for weapons, found none, and hustled her into an unmarked sedan that was parked nearby.
    When Lianne managed a fast look over her shoulder, she saw the man who had arrested her leaning over her trunk. He popped it open, reached in, and lifted out the first carton. Bright red wax seals gleamed against the white wrapping paper.
     
    Kyle ignored the first four rings of the phone. Beneath a bright light, working with the aid of a big magnifying lens, he was assembling tiny silicon wafers on a circuit board. If all went well, the result would be a modem-activated control for the security system he had built into the Donovan penthouse.
    At the fifth ring he swore, set aside his tools, and grabbed the phone.
    “What?” he barked.
    “…Kyle?”
    The voice was so strained and hesitant that he almost didn’t recognize it. “Is that you, Lianne? You sound like you’re in another country.”
    “I feel like it.” She took a ragged breath. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my mother is on her way to Tahiti with Johnny and I didn’t know who else to…” Her voice frayed into silence.
    The last of