Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

also have a peacock-blue sheen, which makes them very desirable.”
    “Not to me,” Hannah said, handing him the pearls. “I want reds and greens and golds and pinks along with the blue. Don’t you have something with more color?”
    “This is a very fine necklace,” Paul said through gritted teeth.
    She shrugged and wandered off to the next pedestal.
    “Like I said,” Archer muttered, “we spent years looking for just the right shade of silver-blue diamond for her. That woman is downright persnickety when it comes to color. You have any idea how many shades blue diamonds come in?”
    Paul managed a smile. He knew just how much a flawless, vibrant, three-carat, fancy blue diamond cost. That was why he wasn’t showing these exasperating peasants to the door.
    “What about that little necklace in the window, darlin’?” Archer asked.
    “No, thanks,” she said casually. “Some of the pearls aren’t a very good match.”
    Paul winced and began wiping down the necklace she had just replaced on its pedestal. “Madame, I assure you, whether it is a question of shape, color, size, or orient, our necklaces are matched to the highest standards.”
    “Yeah? Then they’re not as high as mine.”
    “Like I told you,” Archer said cheerfully, “we searched for years. My baby has an eye for color.”
    Paul folded his lips and said not one word.
    She stopped at a third pedestal, hesitated, then went still. She would have sworn the pearls in this necklace came from Pearl Cove. Not the experimental rafts, but the ordinary black pearls that were the most profitable part of Pearl Cove’s production.
    “So, all your pearls come from around here?” she asked. “Or is that just publicity crap?”
    Hannah’s question pressed the button marked Sales. Words poured out of Paul like a swift tide. “If you speak of black pearls, you are speaking of Tahitian pearls. Tahiti has many, many pearl farms. Each of them produces a pearl that is superior to any other in the world. There is no need to search farther than my country’s own beautiful lagoons for the very finest in black pearls.”
    “Uh-huh,” she said. Her tone said publicity crap.
    Archer watched her closely. He didn’t know what she was seeing in those particular pearls, but the very stillness of her body told him that somehow, in some way, the pearls weren’t what she had expected. He eased closer, ready to step in if she forgot her role and started asking too many intelligent questions.
    “Sugar, are we going Down Under?” Hannah asked, turning toward Archer. “You know, that place in Western Australia where they have miles and miles of pearl farms?”
    “If that’s what it takes to get you the necklace you want, that’s where we’ll go.” He smiled at the jeweler. “Good thing they don’t grow pearls on the moon. Sure as hell, she’d be booking us a shuttle flight.”
    Paul’s smile said he thought that was an excellent idea, and the sooner the better.
    “Well,” she said, shrugging, “just because blokes—er, folks—in this store can’t tell the difference between a good color match and a great one is no reason for me to have pearls like the ones in the window.”
    “The black choker?” Archer asked. “The one I liked?”
    “Yeah. I could do better than that with my eyes closed.” She strolled past Paul, whose tongue was developing red skid marks from being restrained between his teeth.
    “Darlin’, you’re being awful hard on the poor man,” Archer said. His eyes said he was enjoying every second of it.
    “At more than fifteen thousand bucks a pearl, I haven’t even started being hard.”
    “The cost of any necklace,” Paul said in a strained voice, “reflects the difficulty of matching the pearls, rather than the worth of each individual pearl.”
    “Yeah, matching must have been tough,” she said indifferently. “Maybe you’ll get it right next time.”
    “Perhaps Madame would show me which pearls aren’t up to her exacting standards?” Paul asked. The disdain in his voice said that he didn’t think she could.
    Hannah flicked a sideways glance at Archer. He nodded so slightly that she would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching closely.
    “You sure you want me to?” she said to Paul, but her eyes were still on Archer.
    “Quite,” Paul said in a clipped voice.
    It was Archer’s tiny signal, not Paul’s urging, that sent her strolling toward the front display window. Ignoring Paul darting around