Black Diamond (11 page)

As she read the menu the words before her began to blur. Her thoughts lingered on the man sitting within arm’s length of her. The last time she had dinner with a man in such an intimate setting was nearly two years ago. She came back to reality with that realization. Her nerves were on edge due to her being a little rusty.

She looked up to find a question painted on his face. “What?”

“You look like your mind is running a mile a minute. Would you like to talk about it?”

Sitting next to him made her wonder what she would discover about him given the appropriate amount of time. Camille knew Derek well enough to trust his judgment, but Marc made every inch of her body tingle, and that was not good. She found him attractive and she was curious. She wanted to learn more about what she saw in his smoky eyes. She wanted to know if he tasted as good as he smelled. She waited for the waiter to take their orders then began her inquiry.

“So, tell me about Marc Fulton.”

He exhaled and leaned forward, closing the gap between them. Every inch that he came closer made it harder for her to breathe. His graceful movements made her wonder…
what if he delivered on all of the secrets hidden in the depths of his brown eyes?
She was in trouble.

“What do you want to know?” He smiled confidently. His choice of black slacks and jacket paired with simple pinstriped shirt made him appear harmless, but the double earrings made her doubt whether he was as harmless as he seemed.

She picked up her linen napkin and placed it on her lap, using the moment to break his hypnotizing stare. She ran her hand over it several times before looking into his eyes again.

“I’m not sure.” Camille decided to be honest with him. “Something about you has me thrown off. So start at the top and maybe I can figure it out.”

He leaned back, giving the waiter room to refill her water glass and his red wine. He waited for the waiter to leave before he took a sip of his wine as if he wasn’t pressed for time. When he finally answered, she was rewarded with a traffic-stopping smile. She had noticed the transformation of his face earlier, but this time she was facing him directly. The corners of his eyes pinched and he had slight laugh lines. Her natural reaction was to return the warmth she saw in his face.

“I throw you off, huh? How’s that?”

“No, you can’t answer a question with a question.” She loosened up and leaned against the table, closing the distance between them.

“Okay…okay… I was born in...“

“Not
that
far back.”

They laughed and she knew the ice had been officially broken. With humor lingering over the table, their conversation flowed. Camille learned he was born and raised in Houston and she shared that her family was originally from Virginia.

“Really? I have a home there.”

She asked about his relationship with Derek.

“Derek and I were basically raised together. He and my older brother were best friends. I wanted to tag along, but I was an annoyance to them. I was picked on and kicked around, but I still wanted to hang.”

She laughed at the picture he painted. She couldn’t image him as a small, scrawny kid. He paused just as their waiter returned with their plates.

“Let’s bless our food.” His statement nearly caused her to choke on the water she was drinking. She could not recall the last time she’d been asked by a man to say grace before they ate.

He grasped her hands and a shock of awareness cursed through her body. She knew he felt it too because his nose flared. He recovered quickly and said a brief blessing over their dinner. They ate in silence. But it wasn’t awkward nor did she feel a need to fill the silence with talking. It was comfortable.

Once their plates were removed, he was ready to hear about the case. She was certain his relaxed posture meant he was in thinking mode. He leaned back and crossed his long legs. His face was intent and Camille knew she had his undivided attention.

“I started working at International Jewelry Distribution Company two years ago.” That must have shocked him because his eyebrows shot up. She continued, “…as an assistant jewelry buyer. The bureau wanted me to go in and learn as much as I could about the company’s operation. The goal was to identify as many contacts as we could.”

“Did you select this case?”

She nodded her head. “Yes, I did. I have experience in jewelry merchandising. This helped my movement within the company go unquestioned. However, once I read the details of the allegations I couldn’t see myself sleeping at night without helping the many people affected by this case.

“You see, we have reason to believe IJDC has a relationship with an illegal source for its diamond supply. The numbers just don’t add up. Initial attempts to disclose the information turned up empty, which meant it would be difficult to uncover. I knew it could mean that I would have to make this case my life, and I have for two years now.” She paused.

“What do you suspect is happening?”

“I think they’re working directly with someone in South Africa. However, until recently I had no way to prove my theory. With my new promotion to VP of International Accounts, I believe I should have more access to internal records for our distributors.”

He nodded. Derek did not share a lot of information with him, but Marc understood the severity of the situation.

“What is it you think I can do to help you?”

“I’m not sure. What did you do with the CIA?”

“I worked with international terrorist organizations. I can’t promise anything because it is difficult to clear information across agencies.” He seemed to say the last sentence with concern.

She knew of the rift between the agencies, but Derek had to believe he would be valuable in solving this case.

They both sat in silence, their minds deep in thought.

“How many of the organizations that you’ve dealt with have been known to deal with conflict diamonds?”

He seemed to sit up straighter. “Conflict diamonds?” he asked, frowning.

“Yes, how else would they have access?” She gave him time to digest what she was implying.

“Let me get this straight, you think they’re trafficking conflict diamonds?” The weight of his statement hit them both; such allegations were dangerous.

“Basically, yes…” she finally answered him.

“Are you
crazy
?” he replied.

His question caused her to stiffen with offense. He continued before she could respond. “Those groups are deadly. They won’t just idly sit by while you expose a billion dollar illegal business. They’re called blood diamonds for a reason, and they will not hesitate to kill you or anyone else that stands in their way.”

Camille felt the small bond between them dissipate before her eyes. He all but made her sound incapable of handling the case.

“I know what I’m doing, and I am fully aware of the reputation of these groups. But, at this time, it’s only a suspicion.”

“What will you do if your suspicion is true? What if they are responsible for Harold’s death?” His relax posture was gone. He was an octave away from yelling.

Camille refused to think about why he cared. She did not like the direction of their conversation. She had let the thought pass through her mind, but there was no time to explore the consequences. She had a case to solve and she would do it…with or without him.

She leaned forward and in a potent hiss, warned him “I don’t appreciate you questioning my competence as an agent. Now, either you help or you don’t.”

It was now his turn to stiffen in response to the gauntlet she laid at his feet. She would have laughed at the surprised look on his face if he hadn’t just provoked her. She’d dealt with men always questioning her skills as an agent because she was a woman. She would not sit still and let him insult her.

 
“So blushing Camille is now the big bad agent. Ha!”

“You know what, Marc,” she stood and threw her napkin on the table. “If you’re trying to piss me off, it worked.”

Marc watched Camille march away from the table. His mouth hung open in shock. He would have laughed if she wasn’t so upset. Her name was fitting—she was like a chameleon. She went from blushing, freckled face, and innocent to a hellion on wheels…and he liked it!

Marc signaled the waiter. He would have to hurry to catch her. Thankfully, in Houston taxicabs didn’t hang around. She would have to wait for him or call a cab. He paid their bill leaving a generous tip for the waiter.

He retraced Camille’s steps. Marc glided through the restaurant, not aware of the appreciative eyes that followed his full stride, his arms gracefully propelling him closer to his desire. He wanted her. If he doubted it before he was sure of it now. He was determined to do three things: beg her forgiveness, help her find this group, and get her in his bed.

Artista was on the second floor, he took the stairs in haste. He could see her through the glass-paneled doors, sitting on a bench watching cars pass by. Her back was erect and her hands rested on her knees. Her left fingers were gently tapping, as if she was playing piano scales. He approached with deliberate steps.

Camille must have heard him approach because her head turned in his direction. Her soft features hardened, brows wrinkled and her kissable lips pouted in disapproval. The street light illuminated the anger beaming from her beautiful eyes.

He knew female agents had a hard time. They did not receive the same respect as their male counterparts. Usually, they compromised their entire lives to pursue their careers. Whereas many men have wives at home caring for their children them the facade of a normal life.

He held her stare long enough to see the hurt expression that softened her gaze before she turned back toward the street. He took a step closer toward the bench. She slid over as if trying to distance herself from his presence. He felt his heart drop.

Marc’s gaze lifted toward the sky as he tried to gather his thoughts. He could not mess this up. He had to apologize but he wasn’t good at that.

He took several deep breathes before refocusing on her stern face. Just moments earlier, the flutter of her laughter had warmed him. He wanted to know more about her, but getting to know her would be impossible without first apologizing.

He took another step. She slid to the very end of the bench. One more inch and she would hit the concrete.
Damn, she was mad
, he thought to himself before he let out a chuckle. Her lethal glaze froze him. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the rest of his laughter behind his hand.

Marc lowered to sit on the bench next to Camille. She did not move. He decided to test her resolve by moving closer. He saw her look toward the edge of the bench assessing whether she could move another inch but he knew she couldn’t. She didn’t move.

He reached up and played with one of her ringlets. She flinched, but did not pull away. The glow from the street lamp made her highlights appear like beams of radiant light surrounding her latte-colored face.

“Camille…” She stiffened, and he could see her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Humph…”

This would be harder than he thought. He released the ringlet and reached for her hand. She did not snatch away.
That was a good sign.

“I’m…sorry,” he whispered.

She pulled her hand away and folded her arms across her stomach. His nearness gave him access to the hollow of her neck. He let his eyes do the things he’d dare not do. His eyes swept her from the crown of her glorious head and down the length of her neck. The fullness of her breast on her petite body made him release a slight groan.

Their eyes met.

She whispered, “Please, take me home.”

He stood and extended his hand to assist her. She looked at it, but didn’t reach for it.

“Camille, I know your job as an agent is filled with people doubting you because of your gender and I’m sure you have it worse since you’re a black woman working in a profession full of white men. I apologize that I let my concern for your safety cause me to overreact.”

He sat back down.