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diamond. It was cut quite distinctively, perhaps that’ll give us a clue.”
    “Surely, Mr. Bellman would be the best one to ask for that?”
    “Quite, but the more information we have to go to him with, the better he’ll feel that we’re doing our job. We always want as much context as possible in this game, Harley. Information is power, and power is money.”
    Cordi flashed me a smile that made her look like a street urchin who just got away with stealing a loaf of bread. I was starting to like this woman. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll see what I can dig up.”
    I headed to the computer tables at the rear beyond the stacks while Cordi hunted for the book references. When I got there, there were three LCD monitors on a circular table. Two were free. One was taken up by a rather lush-looking guy.
    He was wearing a fitted biker’s jacket, worn at the elbows, giving him a wild look. It suited him with short dark hair just long enough to curl. A dusting of grey gave him an assured Harrison Ford look, as did his two-day stubble.
    I must have been standing there staring when he looked up at me and fixed me in place with the most gorgeous grey-blue eyes.
    And that smile… I melted somewhere inside.
    “Hi,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “Did you want to use this one?” He pointed to the monitor. Damn, I was staring.
    “Sorry,” I said. “It’s okay. These are free, I’ll use one of these.”
    “Sure,” he said and returned to typing on the keyboard while scribbling notes into a moleskin notebook. I wondered if he was a writer. He had a seriousness to him that made me think he might be a writer. Perhaps he was doing research for a book.
    Pulling my eyes from him, I turned my attention to the computer and fired up the web browser. Using Google Local, I searched for all antiques dealers and Japanese artefact dealers in a five-mile radius of Notting Hill.
    A wider search gave too many results. Even within five miles there were ten antiques dealers and two who specialised in Far East artefacts.
    One result in particular caught my eye. Ryu Kirino—expert Japanese art dealer. Only two miles away from Mr. Bellman’s store. The Kirino website showed beautiful photographs of high-end sculptures and artworks—and an image of a doru.
    I went to print the page and an error popped up. I needed to be a member of the library. “Excuse me,” I said, leaning around the monitor to see Mr. Grey Eyes.
    “Yes?”
    Damn him and his charming smile. I felt a flush of excitement in my stomach. The attraction was likely way too obvious on my stupid face. I could already feel my cheeks burning. “May I borrow your pen and a piece of paper… I forgot my… erm… things.”
    Things!
    So classy. So smooth.
    “Of course,” he said, pulling a sheet from his notebook. He handed it to me and reached into his jacket, exposing a police badge attached to the inner pocket. He pulled another pen out and passed it across. “Doing research?” he asked as I took the pen.
    “Homework,” I said hurriedly. What a ridiculous answer.
    “You don’t look like the homework type.”
    God, he was analysing me in his police officer/detective/whatever kind of way.
    “What type do I look like?” Why was I flirting with a copper? Stupid beautiful man!
    “Mine.”
    “Oh,” I said, again with the classy repartee.
    Before I could make more of a fool of myself, Cordi appeared, holding a book open.
    “I found something,” she said. “Local dealer, Ryu—”
    “Kirino?” I finished.
    Her eyes widened as she smiled. “Yes, that’s the one. Good work! I think I might have also found something on our gem. Apparently, it’s—”
    Cordi suddenly cut off as she saw Mr. Grey Eyes. I thought it seemed like an excessive reaction. He was hot, but not enough to elicit such an obvious stare.
    “Alex, what are you doing here?” Cordi said, her face suddenly hostile.
    Grey Eyes, or Alex, stood up, flashing one of his charming smiles. “Cordi,