Jade Island by Elizabeth Lowell Read Free Book Online

who could buy and sell countries, much less people. But any flicker of pleasure Kyle might have had was burned out by a much stronger curiosity: why had Lianne picked him as her white knight?
    He looked at her slender, steel-hard fingers holding onto his wrist and decided that the answer was probably as simple as the Tang Consortium deciding that Number Four Son was indeed the easiest mark at Donovan International.
    The only important question remaining was what the Tangs wanted.
    “Thank you,” Lianne said quietly, letting go of Kyle’s wrist as Han Seng and his two shadows stalked off.
    “Most women would be delighted to have Seng look at them the way he looks at you.”
    “Like a piece of merchandise?”
    “Beautiful merchandise.”
    “Another pun?” Lianne said, but there was no laughter in her voice.
    Kyle’s bronze eyebrows rose in silent question.
    “Beautiful merchandise,” she said evenly, “is one of many Chinese euphemisms for a whore.”
    “Sorry. Want to begin all over? Third time’s the charm and all that.”
    A quick smile changed the aloof lines of Lianne’s face. “Let’s keep the third time in reserve.”
    “You see worse misunderstandings ahead for us?”
    “Life has taught me always to have something in reserve.”
    “You must have an interesting life.”
    “Not as interesting as this Warring States buckle.” Lianne turned back to the exhibit she had been examining before Kyle approached her.
    He hesitated at the transparent change of subject, then shrugged and decided to play it Lianne’s way for a time. He stepped closer and looked over her shoulder into the case. Over the top of her head, actually. She didn’t even come up to his chin. When he breathed in, a scent like rain and lilies came to him. When he breathed out, tendrils of hair which had escaped from the jade picks stirred against her ear. Then another breath and it was rain and lilies all over again, only warmer, because he was leaningso close now that he could feel the subtle heat of her body. And the unsubtle heat of his own.
    With a silent, bitter curse at his hormones, Kyle stepped aside and focused on the very old jade ornament instead of on Lianne’s fragrant flesh. The S-shaped dragon design was still vibrant and crisp after more than two thousand years of existence.
    “Beautiful,” Kyle agreed, yet he was looking away even as he spoke. “But it can’t touch the sheer power of the ceremonial blade in the next case.”
    When Lianne glanced at the chisel-shaped jade that had captured Kyle’s attention, she almost smiled. The long, narrow, nearly rectangular form of the blade was familiar to her from many hours spent listening to Wen talk about the aesthetics and ritual purpose of various Neolithic ceremonial objects.
    “You sound like Wen Tang,” she said. “He’s quite passionate about his archaic jades.”
    “Are you talking about Wen Zhi Tang?” Kyle asked, though he knew very well she was.
    Lianne nodded but didn’t look away from the case holding the ancient blade. With a soft sound she leaned closer, so close that her breath clouded the glass surface of the case. Impatiently she backed up a bit and waited for the glass to clear.
    “What is it?” Kyle asked.
    Lianne didn’t answer. She was holding her breath, examining the five-thousand-year-old jade object as closely as she could behind its glass barrier.
    “Incredible,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes. “Size I could understand. Color I could accept. Design, no problem. But to have similar burial stains in similar places?”
    Frowning, she stared intently at the ceremonial blade.
    “You’ll get lines if you keep that up,” Kyle said after a time.
    “Only Americans are obsessed with youth,” she said, not looking away from the jade.
    “And Chinese are obsessed with age.”
    “Obsession is cross-cultural. Human. The object of obsession is cultural.” As Lianne spoke, she walked around the case, viewing the jade from all