"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I still think Amber Inc. had no right whatsoever to confiscate my find. But I understand that you sincerely believe that you did what you had to do. I can respect that."
"The ruin you discovered down there in the jungle was potentially dangerous, Lyra. By law you should have reported it immediately to the authorities."
"Oh, wow. A lecture."
His mouth tightened at the corners. "You know as well as I do that under the Alien Antiquities Act, any find that poses a potential hazard or generates unknown power of any kind must be analyzed and classified by the appropriate authorities."
"Who will then confiscate it. If said antiquity happens to be made of amber, especially an extremely rare form, the appropriate authorities will naturally hand it over to Amber Inc., which has a contract with the federal government." She widened her eyes with mock astonishment. "Gosh, I wonder why so many small, independent prospectors like me don't routinely tell the appropriate authorities about their little finds."
"The amethyst ruin was no small find. You knew that better than anyone. And it wasn't stolen from you. Amber Inc. offered generous compensation."
"Hah. There was no way your company could possibly compensate me for what you snatched from me. That ruin was priceless."
"This isn't about the legalities, is it?" he said quietly. "It's about us. You and me."
That was another thing about Cruz Sweetwater. He always went straight to the bottom line. She exhaled slowly, leaned against the counter, glass in hand, and looked at the coffee table with its vase of exotic flowers.
"Yes," she said. "It's about us and the fact that you lied to me."
"I had no choice."
"I understand that now. I don't have to like it, but I'm okay with it. I've moved on with my life."
"That's why you dropped the lawsuit?"
"Well, that and the fact that I finally came to my senses and realized that I could not afford to go up against Amber Inc. for even another week."
There was a silence while they drank the quartz-green liqueur. The champagne had not done diddly-squat, but the Dew was succeeding where the lightweight stuff had failed. Her nerves were settling down nicely.
"I got the orchids," she said after a while.
He regarded the flowers, eyes narrowing faintly. "I noticed them when we came in."
"They're very beautiful."
He did not take his attention off the orchids. "Expensive."
"Mmm." She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass. "Amethyst orchids are very pricey. Especially when you send that many of them twice a week for six weeks."
"Someone has been sending you orchids twice a week for six weeks?"
She froze. Okay, this was not another waking nightmare episode, but in some ways it was a whole lot worse than one of the hallucinations.
Dread in her heart, she made herself look at Cruz. His hard face was set in implacable lines. She did not say a word, but words were unnecessary. She saw sudden comprehension burn in his eyes.
"You thought I was the one who was sending the flowers," he said softly. It was not a question.
She could feel herself turning as bright as the magenta paint on Vincent's latest canvas. She set the half-finished Amber Dew on the counter with great care and cleared her throat.
"Well," she said. "This is certainly embarrassing. Now that we've cleared up that little misunderstanding, why don't you tell me exactly why you decided to walk back into my life tonight?"
Chapter 3
HE KNEW AT ONCE THAT HE'D MADE A MISCALCULATION of monumental proportions. But the damned orchids had annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. Should have kept my mouth shut, Cruz thought. Then again, it wasn't as if he'd had a lot of options. It would have been a little awkward to take credit for the flowers when the guy who'd actually sent them eventually showed up. The SOB would be able to produce receipts.
Vincent, evidently sensing the change in the atmosphere, popped up onto a stool and then onto the counter. He fluttered across the surface toward Lyra. When he reached her, he hopped up onto her shoulder and made small, soothing noises in her ear. She patted him gently, clearly taking comfort from his presence.
She looked even better tonight than she had in the very private, very hot fantasies that had been keeping him awake for the past three months, Cruz thought. The little black number she was wearing was no couture gown, but the flirty neckline, tiny sleeves, and narrow skirt discreetly emphasized her gentle curves. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a sleek knot that emphasized her incredible hazel eyes.
Simple amber hoops decorated her ears. She had worn them on several occasions three months ago. There was a charm bracelet on her wrist. He remembered it, too. He'd heard its light, musical clash in his dreams. It was composed of interlocking gold-toned links. Myriad small charms dangled from the links. Each was set with a tiny chip of amethyst amber. She had told him that her grandfather had given the bracelet to her.
Like the dress, the earrings and the bracelet were attractive but not expensive. Lyra made her living as an amber tuner and did a little independent prospecting on the side. Amber tuning was a notoriously low-paying business, due to the competition. The ability to tune standard resonating amber was a common talent. There was a tuning shop on every street corner and in every mall in the city.
As for independent prospecting, that was a fool's en deavor. Very few indies ever struck good amber or discovered truly valuable ruins. When they did, the big companies were always poised to move in and take over the claim, just as Amber Inc. had moved in on Lyra three months ago. The best an indie could do in a situation like that was make a deal. Lyra had refused to bargain.
Typical Dore, Cruz thought. His grandfather was right; they were too proud and too stubborn for their own good.
He briefly contemplated the sizzling midnight fantasies that had haunted him since his house-of-cards relationship with Lyra had come tumbling down. The dreams had all begun the same way, with Lyra rushing into his arms the moment she saw him across a crowded room. Said fantasies had progressed from there to a variety of interesting and very hot scenarios.
But when he had walked into the Swan Gallery tonight, he was the one who had wanted to run to her, sweep her up in his arms, and carry her off into the night.
He could see that there was no point trying to explain any of that to her now. She wouldn't believe him if he tried. He forced himself to stay focused. His responsibilities came first.
"We've got a problem with the ruin," he said, keeping his tone as businesslike and nonconfrontational as possible.
"Would that be the royal we?" she asked politely.
"That would be the research team from the lab."
"Oh," she said. "You mean the cretins from Amber Inc. Research and Development."
"I'm told that the members of the research team prefer to describe themselves as scientists, archaeologists, and technicians."
She nodded. "Job titles like that probably pay more than cretin. Okay, so what went wrong at the ruin?"
"The doorway to the chamber closed."
She blinked, obviously startled. An instant later a slow, wicked smile curved her mouth. Laughter gleamed in her eyes. For a heartbeat he allowed himself a few more memories from three months back. He saw Lyra smiling as she demonstrated the full potential of the incredible artifact of amethyst amber that she had tuned especially for him. He had kept the relic close all these months. He'd lost track of how many times he had taken it out of its leather case and held it, savoring the strange beauty of the alien artwork.
"Define closed," Lyra said.
"There's a small energy storm filling the opening. No one can get in or out."