Midnight Jewels

a low growl, "You're here to talk about books, not 'mutual passion.' Keep that in mind."
    "Keep what in mind? The mutual passion?"
    His fingers tightened warningly on her wrist, but there was no chance for Croft to respond verbally. Isobel Was beckoning her guests down a high-ceilinged corridor. The walls inside the house were as bright as the outside of the structure, their unrelenting whiteness punctuated here and there by works of art. Mercy was no expert, but one of the paintings reminded her of Picasso and another, one with the bold bars of color, made her think of Mondrian.
    She leaned toward Croft to whisper in his ear. "Do you mink they're originals?"
    "Yes," Croft said readily, not bothering to lower his voice. "I mink they're originals."
    Mercy blushed a fiery red as Isobel turned to smile in amusement. "You're quite right, Croft. The paintings are originals. Everything in the house is of the finest quality, including the artwork. Erasmus likes to surround himself with beautiful things."
    "And people," Mercy added without dunking.
    "Yes," Isobel nodded. "Erasmus prefers to have attractive people around him, just as he prefers beauty in his physical surroundings."
    Mercy held up a hand in a gesture of mock pleading. "Please don't say anything more on the subject, Isobel, I'm traumatized enough as it is about dressing for dinner. I think I may have left the emerald necklace at home with my Saint Laurent gown and wouldn't you know it, the airline lost my little Ungaro number."
    "You mustn't concern yourself with such things," Isobel said. "I would be happy to loan you something to wear."
    Good grief, Mercy drought. Had the woman taken her seriously? "Um, I was just joking, Isobel."
    Isobel nodded serenely. "Still, it's no problem. I will be pleased to open my wardrobe to you."
    It was Croft who put an end to the discussion by saying bluntly, "Forget it. None of your clothes would fit Mercy. Is this our room?"
    Mercy seethed in silence while Isobel stood back to wave them into a suite done in a light, graceful interpretation of Art Deco. Every item in the sunlit room was in proper geometrical proportion to the others. There was a sense of ornamentalism in the small sculptured nude that stood by the wide bed, but the overall design was clean and somehow very modern. Outside the window a sparkling backdrop of snowcapped mountains and endless green valleys stretched toward infinity.
    "When you mentioned to Dallas that you were being accompanied by a male companion, Mercy, we assumed he was a
close
friend. I hope we assumed correctly?"
    "You assumed correctly," Croft said flatly before Mercy could think of a more delicate response. She glared at him as Isobel smiled directly at Croft.
    "Then I hope this suite will do. There is a connecting door between this room and the next which should provide the two of you with whatever degree of privacy you wish. Lance has been instructed to put your luggage in the other room, Croft. Feel free to make whatever adjustments you please. Erasmus and I wish only that our guests be comfortable. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go downstairs to make certain everything is prepared for the evening. Join us when you're ready. We will be having cocktails in an hour."
    Mercy breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind Isobel. "Better check your wrists to make sure she didn't help herself to a little blood when she shook hands with you. I wonder how she got such perfect nails? The nearest manicurist must be a hundred and fifty miles from here."
    "Something tells me Isobel doesn't do much housework," Croft said absently as he began stalking slowly around the room.
    "That's an understatement." Mercy frowned. "I wonder who does do it. The housework, I mean."
    "Dallas and Lance probably."
    "Obviously very versatile young men."
    "Obviously." Croft went down on one knee to study the power receptacle in the wall.
    Mercy scowled, knowing what he was doing because he had explained it all to her while they waited for the arrival of their escort. He was checking for eavesdropping devices. He had told her he might not be able to locate them if they were planted by a very sophisticated professional and that she was to watch her conversation carefully unless they were outdoors. Mercy had agreed to the terse instructions primarily because she was learning that there was no point arguing with Croft when he was in certain moods.
    "Well?" She silently mouthed an inquiry at him as he finished his