Wrenching her gaze from the pendant, she looked into eyes almost as bright and green as the dazzling stone. Tinted contacts, she guessed as the target came forward with both hands outstretched.
“Ms. Colby. Welcome to the Tranquility Institute.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope you—”
Greene broke off. His welcoming smile faded. Frowning, he glanced down at their clasped hands. When he raised those startling eyes again, they held a gentle concern.
“How fortunate that you’ve come to me. I sense a deep hurt in you. Or is it anger?”
He squeezed her hands, his tone modulating to one of soothing assurance.
“We’ll work together while you’re here, shall we, and draw out your pain.”
Chapter 3
Jordan managed to keep from snatching her hands free of Greene’s—barely. For a startled moment she wondered if this man did indeed possess the extraordinary faculties his PR machine hyped.
Just as quickly, she dismissed the notion that he’d seen inside her head. Greene must have received a report of her confrontation with TJ, perhaps viewed a security tape of the two of them going head to head. He would have heard her anger, fed off her hurt.
It was all done with smoke and mirrors.
“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Greene,” she said with a cool smile, slipping her hands free of his, “but this is a business trip. I doubt I’ll have time for you to draw anything out.”
“Then we’ll have to make time. And please, call me Bartholomew.”
With scrupulous courtesy he waved her to a round table inlaid with multicolored woods. “I’ve ordered tea. Or would you prefer fresh-squeezed papaya juice?”
“Tea would be fine.”
It was green, of course, a fragrant blend served in delicate Chinese cups. Jordan sipped hers appreciatively while Bartholomew’s financial adviser opened a manila folder and slid out the proposal she’d FedEx’ed after several long sessions with her designers.
“Bartholomew and I have studied your proposal, Ms. Colby. Or may we dispense with formalities and call you Jordan?”
“Please do.”
Duncan Myers flipped through the pages of the proposal. “It’s very intriguing.”
No kidding! To get her foot in the door, Jordan had cut her costs to the bone and maximized the potential profit for the institute.
“You’ve got built-in outlets at the various Tranquility Institutes around the world,” she said, gesturing toward the world map. “You also have an established mail-order business for your herbal products and healing stones. That eliminates most of the distribution costs.”
Reaching into her briefcase, she produced the sketches she and her team of designers had worked up. They featured a variety of sunglasses, reading glasses and frames for prescription lenses, all with her signature butterfly done in emeralds. Many of the frames sported additional emeralds in the side stems.
With OMEGA’s extensive resources to assist her, Jordan had collected a wealth of information on the supposed healing properties of emeralds. According to ancient lore, the stone was a blood detoxifier and antipoison. More current literature insisted it promoted love, romance, joy, clear vision, faith and serenity. It was also supposed to lift depression; cure insomnia; cleanse the heart, lymph nodes, blood and pancreas; restore sugar balance; ease labor and delivery; and assist in healing eyesight and speech impediments. Just your average, all-around miracle rock.
Jordan’s crash course had also included detailed briefings on chakras, or the centers of energy located along the midline of the body. There were seven, running from the crown of the head to the pelvis. Various stones, she’d learned, impacted the chakras differently. Playing to that theme, she began her pitch.
“As you’re aware, the emerald primarily strengthens the heart chakra. However, the stone is reputed to have positive properties for—”
“Reputed?” Greene interrupted, one brow lifting. “Don’t you believe these healing stones generate their own unique force fields?”
“Well…”
She hesitated, reluctant to come out with a flat lie. Greene would see right through it.
“All crystals and gemstones emit vibrations at different frequencies,” he said, filling the small silence. “That’s why we have quartz watches.”
“True.”
“If a stone chip can power a watch, surely it’s not that big a leap to believe it can transfer its energy in other ways. Ways that help heal.”
“I know many people believe in the healing power of stones,” Jordan said, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t question the sincerity of that belief.”
Bartholomew steepled his fingers under his chin and accepted her tap dance with a smile. “Perhaps we’ll make a disciple out of you while you’re here.”
He could try. Jordan attempted to keep an open mind regarding others’ beliefs. But she figured the world wouldn’t need doctors if colored stones could cure every ill and restore balance to the human body.
“As you can see,” she continued, fanning the sketches across the table, “I’ve designed some glasses with emeralds on the right stem, some on the left.”
According to her research, the left side of the body was the feminine or receptive side. Wearing a gemstone on the left drew in its energies. Wearing it on the right, or masculine side, sent the energy out to others.
“I’ve designed these stems to be detachable. The wearer could interchange them according to his or her needs that day.”
“That’s very clever,” Bartholomew said with warm approval. “You might not be a believer, but you’ve obviously done your homework.”
“Yes, I have. I also read that most men carry their stones in their pocket.”
Greene patted his pendant. “I wear mine here, right over my heart.”
Jordan suspected most men weren’t secure enough in their beliefs—or their masculinity—to display their emeralds so openly.
“Since female clothing has fewer pockets,” she continued, “women must either wear their stones as jewelry or tuck them inside their bras. Jeweled glasses would eliminate that necessity, which will make a great marketing pitch. As an added benefit, both men and women could slide the glasses up on their foreheads to get the stones closer to their head chakra.”
She tipped hers up to demonstrate before drawing out an accessories page.
“Or they could dangle the glasses from one of these specially crafted chains.”
Greene’s face lit up as he eyed the gold links studded with tiny emeralds. “I like these.”
She’d figured he would. Anything to bilk his customers of a few more bucks.
“I’ve researched your client base. While they tend toward the high end of the income scale, I think we should offer a wide range of prices for each line. The cost, of course, will depend on the weight, cut and clarity of the embedded stones.”
Duncan Myers spoke up at that point. Sitting back in his chair, he palmed a hand over his shining bald crown.
“We can help there. Since we sell so many emeralds at our tranquility centers, I’ve negotiated special rates with our suppliers.”
It was the perfect opening. Jordan let a note of excitement creep into