Once Upon A Diamond (Prince Uncharming Book 1)
Read Once Upon A Diamond (Prince Uncharming Book 1) Online
Authors: Payton Lane
Table of Contents
ONCE UPON A DIAMOND by PAYTON LANE
EXCERPT FROM PRINCE UNCHARMING
ONCE UPON A DIAMOND by PAYTON LANE
Copyright 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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BLURB
When a handsome man walks into Yvonne Smith's jewelry store, she only meant to lighten his somber mood by telling him a silly story. How could she have known Gregory Wood's smile could melt a woman's heart? Unfortunately it's not just his face that's irresistible.
All Greg wants is to sell off the engagement ring from a broken relationship. He's not looking for always and forever anymore, but Yvonne's unassuming charm is addictive. Greg can't seem to get enough.
Just like
1001 Nights
, that first story turns into many more and a lot nights spent confessing secret desires. It's foolhardy to believe he could love her so soon after a heartbreak, but as the weeks pass Yvonne starts to suspect Greg might be The One. He still wants nothing to do with love.
Her choice becomes clear: ignore her heart or protect it?
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CHAPTER ONE
Gregory Woods glared up at the jewelry store's sign. The name Glitter was showcased in a pink cotton candy shade, and he'd bet money that at night the sign sparkled. What kind of crappy name was that for a jewelry store? Should have known better than to trust his I'm-going-to-die-a-bachelor cousin.
But Greg's should-have-known-better list was getting about a mile long and it was slowly turning him into a dick.
He tried to stuff the irritation down. Really he did, but...He shifted his hard stare to Drew. “What the hell is this place?”
His cousin threw his hands up in surrender at the sharp tone. “You've bitched and moaned about the engagement ring for almost a year. So instead of having to listen to you rant one more damn time, I found a solution.” He stuffed his hands in his jean's pockets and shrugged. “Sell it. Rip off the Band-Aid and move the hell on.”
Selling the ring punctuated the end of his failed engagement. If he walked through those doors, he would have to accept he got down on one knee, had asked the supposed love of his life to marry him, she had said yes and then months later, as the actual wedding had approached, changed her mind.
Maybe if he was the kind of guy to say screw her and her future children's children this would be easier, but he wasn't. Most days. He also didn't want her back. That train had left the station. He...just wanted his world to make sense again.
Since that wouldn't happen anytime soon, Greg glowered at the store's windows in hopes he'd find another obvious reason to not walk through those doors. The displays were made from what looked like everyday items—old bookshelves, shadowboxes and high heels outfitted to hold rings. Someone had put serious thought into creating a welcoming but elegant appearance. The owner had put their best foot forward and pushed him into a corner he could only punch his way out of.
“They probably won't have the money to buy it,” Greg muttered, falling back on his background as a financial analyst. Numbers were much easier to rely on and understand than people.
From the way Drew rocked on his heels without replying, numbers were also a crappy excuse to hide behind. Finally his cousin said, “Right now you're making zero money on your investment. You don't have the woman and you can't or...won't sell the ring.”
He scowled at the cotton candy pink sign. Greg had never thought he'd be standing here.
Suck it up. You're starting to sound like a wuss in your own damn mind.
“We'll have drinking money after this. 'Cause I'm going to need a drink after this.”
“The golden boy of the family wants to get trashed. I approve. And McNally's happy hour is all day today.” His cousin patted him on the back and then pushed him closer to the entrance. “Until then I'm heading down to the cell phone store. Text me when you're done.”
That announcement transformed Greg's scowl into a frown of confusion. “What?”
“It's a Saturday afternoon. Too many people I know could see me in there. Nope.”
He should have known. “You bastard,” Greg said but couldn't stop the laugh.
Drew grinned and it was hard to hate him. “There are some journeys a man has to take alone. One of them is going into a jewelry store that looks this girly. Someone could see me and I don't want to give anyone any ideas.”
“You're buying your own damn booze at McNally's.”
“Aren't you grouchy? Can't even be mad about that though. See you in a bit.”
Shaking his head, Greg entered the store. He'd expected a saccharine fragrance to greet him but there was a crisp, clean scent he couldn't quite place. The outside display had only hinted at the creative way the owner laid out her—yes only a woman would have this kind of decoration—merchandise.
Although he'd rather get his prostate examined without lube than to do this, he had to respect the passion shown in every nook and cranny. Her place was eclectic and kind of nice.
And empty.
He strolled to the counter and glanced up at the chandelier. Yup. Her sign would sparkle at night. With a scowl furrowing his brows, he hit the service bell. While he waited, he pulled the ring box out of his jean's pocket and slapped it on the smooth, cool surface.
No need to look at it and have regrets and doubts about the decisions in his life, the women he chose to love. He could do that without opening Pandora's box. Hell, his cousin had practically dragged him here. He had been bitching for a long while. If Greg kept that up, he'd probably turn into one of those bitter men who thought all women were lying whores. He hated those guys.
If not for the woman who waltzed out of a back room, Greg would have let his mind drift down that dark and ugly road.
But how could he? The woman had a poise that made him think she must have been a dancer in a previous life. She glided across the room in a long, tight-fitting dress, the sway of her hips was almost hypnotic.
The top of her head might actually reach his nose and that was with flats. The wild ebony strands of her curls easily made her the same height as him. Her face was both hard and soft, rounded angles and sharp contours. Her brown irises lit when she made eye contact with him. Her dark-honey toned skin held a glow.
Then she smiled and he knew without question that lift of her lips had brought many men to their knees. Her smile simply said, “Come have fun with me.”
Greg didn't hate her on sight, but he definitely wanted to find a different jeweler.
“Good afternoon,” she said in a voice that was both solid and gentle. She sidled up to her counter, her posture elongated and straight. “What can I help you with today?”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing
. Something he should have said as he backed out the door, but the ring had felt like an anvil in his pocket the entire car ride. He didn't want to pick it up and take it home. He'd held onto the ring long enough, and he damn sure wouldn't understand where shit went wrong anymore than on the day Abigail had returned the ring.
With a flick of a finger, Greg pushed the velvet box closer to her. “I'm here to sell this. I'll take your best offer.”
Her expression remained bland, professional as she opened the box. If not for the millisecond of her eyes widening, he would have believed her nonchalant facade. “Twenty-four carat white gold instead of platinum. Traditional, yet not. Four carat diamond in a princess cut.” She made an inquisitive noise and drew an eye glass from behind the high shelf of the counter. “Is there a reason you brought it here instead of where you bought it?”
He'd bought the ring from a family friend who owned a store. They'd given him a discount even though he could afford the asking price. Greg would be asked all the details of the broken engagement while being offered condolences. He wasn't just searching for closure, he wanted the book slammed shut on that chapter of his life.
“I'm shopping around for the best price,” he easily lied.
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “This ring means nothing to you?”
Now
. It had meant the world a year ago. “Can I get a fair price or not?” The question came out much sharper than he'd intended.
See
. A dickish moment.
She set down the glass and ran a finger over the cold diamond. “Depends on what you mean by fair.” Her tone was just as modulated and soft. She hadn't even flinched at his cutting question.
He hated to like that about her. “What do you mean by fair?”
“A few years ago a widower came into my store,” she began with a conversational air. “His daughter was getting married. He wanted to take the stones out of his wife's ring and use the stones in a necklace she could wear on her wedding day. I added sapphires for the blue.”
The tension holding his shoulders lessened. And that was his big problem. He was a romantic. Still. Greg said, “The necklace would be something old, new and blue.”
She smiled that smile of hers, coaxing him to smile back against his better judgment. And maybe even the temperature in the room rose a few degrees because he suddenly wanted to tug at his shirt's collar.
“Exactly,” she said like the star pupil had raised his hand. “Now what would be a fair price to him?”
But he couldn't be a romantic anymore. So he tried to ignore the fact she had a smile that could raise a man from the dead. Or just raise a man. “Whatever he could afford, I guess.”
She frowned at his answer as though disappointed. “You could say that. Anyway—” she snapped the ring box closed, “—I need some time to look over the ring, verify a few things about its authenticity. I usually only carry unique jewelry, but I may be able to contact some people and sell this for you. Come by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” He must have sounded as frustrated as he felt because she smiled again.
“It's a process. The first step is paperwork.” She pulled a clipboard from under the counter and handed it to him. “I'm going to need your contact information.”
While he did that, she waited patiently for him to finish, not filling up the silence with inane small talk. And maybe he was feeling perverse at that moment, but he didn't want it. Words spilled out before he could stop them. “How long have you owned your store?”
“About five years now.”
She didn't elaborate and that made him want to dig for more information. “What were you doing six years ago?”
When she didn't answer right away, he glanced up. Her teeth worried her bottom lip. Her mouth was full and free of lipstick. His mouth started to itch as her nervous gesture became the new thing to hypnotize him.
No telling how he was looking at her, but her breath hitched. “Taping my toes and doing pirouettes. You?”
Ah. He'd been right. She'd been a dancer. He let his gaze travel back up to her eyes. Her eyes looked wider, softer—like a woman who just had great sex. Noticing her reaction didn't mean anything. Definitely didn't mean he had to act on it. She'd asked him a question.
Concentrate on that
. “Six years ago I was giving advice to rich men about how they could recoup on their market losses.”