Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

husband had only skimmed the surface of her sensual possibilities. Other men hadn’t managed even that. She had never looked at them and speculated how they might be as a lover; they simply didn’t interest her sexually.
    But Archer had and did. Instantly. Urgently.
    Fear snaked through Hannah as she understood that she might marry and have children someday, but they wouldn’t be conceived in blinding ecstasy. She would respond to no other man as she did to Archer Donovan.
    The certainty made her both angry and bleak, like Archer’s eyes watching her right now.
    “Teddy’s coming in the front door,” Archer said. Then, reluctantly, “Are you all right?”
    “Bloody wonderful. Why?”
    “You look . . .” Frightened. Exhausted. Hurt. “. . . pale.”
    “Then I should fit right in with the natives.” The emptiness in Hannah’s voice was as unmistakable as the lines of tension and pain etching her face.
    “You should have let me take you back to the condo,” he said. “You need rest.”
    “Don’t worry, boy-o. I’m not made of frigging French glass.”
    It had been one of Len’s favorite sayings. Repeating it in Len’s cadences gave Hannah a certain bitter pleasure. Seeing the narrowing of Archer’s eyes gave her more.
    “I’m with you every step of the way to the Black Trinity,” she said in a low, savage tone, “so stop trying to dump me on your family while you run off and play without me.”
    Teddy dragged out a chair and sat down. Drops of water sparkled on his high forehead and his red pullover rain jacket. He unzipped the neck opening as far as it would go, revealing a startling pineapple-yellow shirt with a bright explosion of leaves strewn across the front. He nodded to Hannah before turning to the man who was watching him with an unsmiling face and eyes that were a lot colder than the rain outside.
    “I’m supposed to be at SeaTac in an hour,” Teddy said to Archer. “What’s on your mind?”
    “The pearls you sold to the Linskys.”
    “I’ve sold lots of—”
    “You start bullshitting me and you’ll miss your plane.”
    Teddy smiled slightly and leaned back, prepared to do what he was best at: bargaining. “Oh, those pearls.”
    A server appeared and looked at Teddy expectantly.
    “He won’t be here long enough for coffee,” Archer said.
    “I can make it to go,” the server said, then took a good look at Archer. “Uh, never mind. Do you want your check, sir?”
    “Not yet.”
    The server smiled brightly and got out of Archer’s line of sight as fast as she could.
    Archer never took his eyes off Teddy.
    “I would have offered the pearls to you, but you were in Australia,” Teddy said.
    “Who sold them to you?”
    “None of your business.”
    “Wrong answer.”
    Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I have a connection.”
    “Who?”
    “Damn it, that’s—”
    “Who sold you those pearls?” Archer cut in coldly.
    Teddy had heard a few things about Archer’s past. Right now he believed every one of them. There was no bargain to be struck here, only the kind of trouble a wise man avoided.
    “A man from Broome.”
    “A man from Broome,” Archer repeated neutrally, praying Hannah would stay out of it. “Name?”
    “He didn’t tell me.”
    “Keep it up and you’ll miss that plane and every one after it until we’re finished talking.”
    Unhappily Teddy took off his glasses, polished them, and put them back on. Cleaner lenses didn’t help. Archer still looked like an executioner.
    “Well, hell,” Teddy muttered. His wife had been right: He shouldn’t have bought the pearls from a man he didn’t know. A nervous man, at that. Yet the pearls had been so extraordinary. And so cheap. “Qing Lu Yin.”
    Hannah stiffened.
    “He was the original owner,” Teddy said, glancing at her curiously. “He gave me a bill of sale. It was all done on the books and aboveboard.”
    “Where’s the bill of sale?” Archer asked.
    Sighing, Teddy pulled a breast wallet from his rain jacket’s belly pocket. He had hoped he wouldn’t need the bill of sale for this meeting, but he had been afraid he would. Something about those pearls had fairly shouted of trouble. Reluctantly he took out a sheet of paper.
    “It’s a copy,” he said, passing the sheet over to Archer.
    Ideographs marched down the right-hand side of the page. A smudged thumbprint sat crookedly on one corner. Letters and numbers were neatly written under the print.
    “Keep it,” Teddy