Lover in the Rough Read Online Free PDF

curbed her impatient response. It seemed like half the world was after her to decide which two parts of Jeremy’s collection she would choose as her own. Individual collectors, museums, newspapers, magazines, lawyers, and Todd Sinclair had badgered her since the moment the will became public knowledge. People who had never known her—and who never would, if she had any say in the matter—speculated privately and in print as to the exact nature of her relationship with the deceased Jeremy Bouvier Sinclair. Protégée, certainly, but something else, perhaps? Something more intimate ? And which part of her, er, mentor’s collection would she keep? Would she go for money or sentiment?
    Tim held up his hands as though warding off blows. “Don’t hit me, boss. I’m just like the rest of the world, eaten up with curiosity.”
    Reba gave the compact young man an exasperated look. Tim was invaluable to her, an accomplished gemologist with an instinctive feel for fraudulent stones. His easygoing manner concealed a shrewd grasp of the gem trade and human nature. Best of all, he was utterly in love with his wife. He treated Reba the same way he did the gems that passed through his fingers—appreciation, respect, and a total absence of desire to possess. In the two years he had worked for her, a brother-sister camaraderie had grown between them that was as great an asset to her as his unquenchable humor.
    “I’m keeping the Green Suite,” she said.
    Tim shouted exultantly, then looked vaguely sheepish. “I just made a thousand bucks,” he explained.
    “Who lost?”
    Tim smiled maliciously. “A bastard called Sinclair.”
    Reba’s lips curved into an unwilling smile. “Don’t count it until Todd pays you.”
    “Oh, he’ll pay,” said Tim, “if I have to hammer it out of him a dollar at a time. He was so damn sure you were going to take the Ace of Diamonds. Or is that your second choice?”
    She shook her head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s just a big diamond.”
    “Just a—boss, that just-a-diamond is worth 1.85 million dollars at last appraisal, and that was two years ago! You could sell it, invest the money and spend a lot of time clipping coupons.”
    “I’d rather earn my money. Old-fashioned, I guess.”
    Tim looked at her closely. “You don’t want them saying that you cozied up to Jeremy for his money, right?”
    “Leave it alone, Tim,” she said in a flat voice. “When people ask, just tell them that the Ace was a bit garish for my taste.”
    He touched her hand quickly. “Sorry, Reba. I know what Jeremy meant to you. It’s just that he was such a sonofa—” Tim coughed. “He was hell on wheels with everyone but you.”
    “I spoke French,” she said, her voice softening as she remembered Jeremy’s delight in his native tongue.
    “So did I,” grumbled Tim.
    “With an atrocious accent,” she pointed out.
    “Details, details.” He flipped his notebook shut and put it in the pocket of his fawn wool suitcoat. “What’s your second choice?”
    “That’s what I like about you,” Reba said tartly. “You take a hint.”
    “Uh-huh. Give.”
    “More bets?”
    Tim smiled.
    “The Tiger God,” she said, giving up.
    “The what?”
    “The tiger’s-eye carving.”
    “Oh . . .” He swore softly. “How did she know?”
    “Who?”
    “Gina. She bet that you’d take that statue.”
    “How much did you lose?” asked Reba indulgently. Gina was the receptionist/bookkeeper/secretary for the Objet d’Art. She was also Tim’s wife.
    “Oh, it wasn’t exactly the kind of bet that anyone loses,” he said, smiling wolfishly.
    Reba smiled in return, hoping that Tim didn’t see the icy emptiness in her. What would it feel like to be so close to someone that there were no losers, only winners? What would it feel like to hold someone, to die “the small death” in a lover’s arms and awake reborn each morning? What would it feel like to know that someone gave the last ultimate damn about