The Sapphire Affair (Jewel #1)

Her voice was like honey and whiskey, and her body had been carved by artist’s hands.

Steph walked into a full-on embrace from the model-esque Isla. The woman looped her arms around her like she was her long-lost relative.

“Hi,” Steph said, as if the word itself were new to her, and it sounded that way on her tongue.

Isla was tall, toned, tan, and trim. The four Ts. Stunning, too, and that irked Steph. Perhaps because it was so cliché, and for once she wished her stepfather would stop trafficking in clichés. Like this picturesque mini mansion perched on the edge of the water. Like his taste for showy jewelry. Like his predilection for affairs. Frustration coiled inside her, a gnawing wish that he could be the Eli she knew—the father who cared, not the man who’d hurt her mom.

Isla placed her arms on Steph’s, tilted her head, and beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I have been dying to have you meet all my friends.”

Steph furrowed her brow. Friends? “Where’s Eli?” she asked as her eyes darted from left to right, quickly cataloging the plush beige couch in the sitting room; then the marble table in the entryway; the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, brilliant with dangling teardrop crystals; then the white tiled floor.

She cast her gaze to the marble table, faintly wishing for that crystal bowl full of diamonds, like jelly beans.

It was nowhere to be seen.

Nor was her stepfather.

The only diamond in sight adorned the throat of Isla. Brilliant, and hanging on a pendant, it had a faint blue tint to it. Just like her stone. Same size. Same cut.

Her stomach churned as another piece of evidence met her eyes. Another $10,000 diamond. She gritted her teeth as the diamond shone on the neck of the woman who hadn’t given Eli money to start his business. The woman who wasn’t her mother. The latest lady in a string of affairs he’d had, each one breaking the heart of the person Steph loved most.

A new determination set in to uncover the full truth, diamonds, money, and all. Whatever Eli had done with the gems, she needed to know. She needed the truth—for her mom and for herself. So she could make peace with whoever her stepdad was.

Isla winked. “He was called away tonight on business, but it’s perfect that you’re here. Some of my girlfriends and I are having a little get-together,” she said, and dropped her hand on Steph’s shoulder, ushering her inside.

Shrieking echoed across the home, and a woman cried out in joyous laughter. “Oh my God, that feels amazing on my elbow. I can’t even.”

Was she testing out lotion? A new massage oil?

Isla’s green eyes sparkled as she dropped her voice to a naughty whisper. “Wait ’til she tries it in other places.”

Steph furrowed her brow. “Like her hands?”

“Oh yes, that’s a good start.”

Another voice erupted in naughty laughter. “You all need to leave now. This bad boy is going to melt all my panties.”

Steph cringed. From head to freaking toe. She hadn’t walked into a family dinner, but a randy ladies’ night in.




No trellis needed. Thank you very much. A tree branch would do just fine. This former soldier knew how to climb a tree and catwalk across the branch like a tightrope. It hung close enough for Jake to take one more step . . . raise his foot . . . reach across . . . and there.

Safe landing.

Both feet were on the stucco roof.

Lock kit in hand, he shimmied open a bathroom window in twenty seconds flat. He climbed inside and dropped softly on the floor of a palatial bathroom suite. Smelled like expensive perfume and fancy lotions and potions, as well as the kind of aftershave that men older than he wore. A faint light from the makeup mirror provided the barest illumination of fluffy towels on hooks, a waterfall shower, and double sinks.

Nice digs.

He stood in place, his ears trained on the sounds of the house. The upstairs was quiet and still. In the distance, the faint tinkling of women’s laughter fell on his ears. Steph was keeping them busy.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


“You have to see all the goodies,” Isla said, clasping a hand around Steph’s arm and whisking her through the dining room, where a maid with a sleek black ponytail presided over little appetizers, like tuna on a criss-cross potato chip, a bowl of olives, a plate of nuts, and mushroom caviar. In the kitchen, another woman in a black-skirted uniform tidied up.

“Have you heard of Joy Delivered?” Isla asked.

Steph blushed. Of course she’d heard of Joy Delivered. What woman with her own credit card and online access hadn’t heard of the premiere sex-toy company? She owned a few of those babies. The Wild One had taken the edge off some of her most tension-filled days, while the Lola and its ten varying pulses had turned her into somewhat of an addict. An orgasm junkie—that’s what those toys could make a woman. Besides, Steph hadn’t been with anyone since Duke, unless you counted battery-operated boyfriends.