Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

It was that or touch her. That would be a bad move. Really stupid.
    Really tempting.
    “Okay,” he said. “You’ve bought rough from a reliable source. Then what do you do?”
    “Study it.”
    “For what? You think you’re being taken for a ride even after all the precautions?”
    “I’m not looking for synthetics in my rough,” Kate said. She looked at her hand gripping the edge of the table. Fingers that were grubby from tools and grits. Short nails, no polish. She wondered if Sam would want to have such unfeminine hands on him. Then she remembered the fit of his jeans and knew the answer. Her pulse kicked. “I’m trying to decide which of all the possible shapes will bring out the best in the stone for the least amount of wastage.”
    Sam made an encouraging sound. At least he hoped it was encouraging rather than the throttled growl of a frustrated male.
    “An otherwise good piece of rough might have a cluster of flaws,” she said quickly. “If I cut them out, the remaining rough could make me a lot of money. Or it could fall apart and leave me with junk. That’s the risk I run. That’s why you can buy good wholesale rough at a decent price. No one is certain what the final stone or stones will be worth, if anything.”
    “Okay, it’s a gamble.” He stepped closer and told himself he wouldn’t remove her hair clip. “You have the rough. You study it. You choose a shape. You start cutting.”
    “Grinding, actually. I don’t so much cut stones as grind away the excess to reveal the natural beauty within.” With her fingertip she stroked the metal rod that was holding a gem on its tip with the help of dop wax. “On this one, I’ve already set the angle that the rough will meet the lap.”
    “Lap? Like a dog at a dish of water?” Or a man loving a woman.
    “Um…” The sudden intensity of his eyes made her feel like she was on the receiving end of a teasing, tasting lick. Oh, God, I’m losing it. Frantically, Kate gathered what was left of her wits. “Think of a lap as a kind of flat, circular sander, like a CD with steel teeth,” she said, talking so fast the words almost ran together. “You use the coarsest lap for the basic shaping, then work your way up through to the finest lap and grit for the polish. Along the way, each separate facet of the stone requires another setup on the equipment to ensure that each facet is the correct shape and angle.”
    “Can’t machines do it?” His voice was deeper than usual. Almost husky.
    “Sure.”
    Kate turned away from Sam. His intense blue eyes were making her edgy. Needy. Hungry. It wasn’t that he was ignoring her words. He was listening intently.
    Too intently. She could almost feel his interest.
    “Kate?”
    And she knew that the physical attraction electrifying the atmosphere wasn’t one-sided. She just didn’t know what would be the smart thing to do about it, except talk as though her life depended on it.
    “Most of the medium and low-end cutting is done by simple machines run by badly paid workers in the Third World,” she said. “Ranks and ranks of cutters hunched over in rooms filled with the scream of stone being ground and a haze of silica dust. Real assembly-line stuff, and lethal to the workers if the air isn’t properly filtered.”
    “Is it?”
    “Sometimes. And sometimes…” She shook her head. “High-endcutting is different. It’s one of a kind. I’m cutting collector stones or designer stones. Each is unique. Preset computer programs are worse than useless for me. The quick and easy way doesn’t get the job done for me. Any job.”
    Sam took the clip out of her black hair and smiled at the results—and at the sudden drawing in of her breath. “What comes next?”
    “I wrestle you for my hair clip?” she said, spinning to face him. The look in his eyes made her wonder what sex on a worktable would be like. “Forget I asked,” she said quickly.
    “Not likely.”
    “Once the stones are cut,” she said, talking over his words, talking fast before she did something really stupid, “in most cases they’re sold by the pound or kilo to mass jewelry makers. Again, most of the assembly work is done overseas in India and especially China. Really rare stones are bought as is by collectors or investors or designers. The vast majority of the stones are cut in Asia for use in mall jewelry or hobbyists or—I’m babbling. Stop playing with my hair.”
    “I’m not touching it.”
    “You want to,” she