Say It with Diamonds
Lucy King
All that sparkles… At thirty-five, Bella might be an expert on diamonds – but she’s still missing a big fat one on the third finger of her left hand. However, at least she has her successful jewellery business – with very interesting new client William Cameron, AKA the Duke of Hawksley, no less!She’s expecting portly and chinless – but actually Will’s tall, dark and so distractingly good-looking it’s hard to concentrate on his jewels! More of a surprise: this weird chemistry between them is actually mutual. Urgent… And it catches them completely unawares in a black London taxi…All that glitters is not gold. All that sparkles isn’t diamond. All men who turn you on aren’t the real thing. But being cynical gets boring…maybe it’s time for Bella to throw caution to the winds…?
Say It With Diamonds
Lucy King
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Praise for Lucy King
‘Simply fabulous! I couldn’t resist
gobbling up this delicious contemporary
romance in a single sitting. Lucy King has
created a thoroughly modern and believable
character in Emily, and Luke is a gorgeous
Alpha male who will make women swoon
with delight! Refreshing, romantic and
wholly enjoyable, this fabulously uplifting,
emotional and captivating tale heralds the start
of an exciting new voice in category romance,
and I cannot wait to read more sensational
romance by the hugely talented Lucy King!’
—www.cataromance.com on
Bought: Damsel in Distress
‘Fast-paced, sexy, poignant and deliciously
enjoyable, Propositioned by the Billionaire will go down a treat … the world over— and readers would do well to remember Lucy King’s name because she is a writer destined for greatness!’ —www.cataromance.com on Propositioned by the Billionaire
About the Author
LUCY KING spent her formative years lost in the world of Mills & Boon
romance when she really ought to have been paying attention to her teachers. Up against sparkling heroines, gorgeous heroes and the magic of falling in love, trigonometry and absolute ablatives didn’t stand a chance.
But as she couldn’t live in a dream world for ever she eventually acquired a degree in languages and an eclectic collection of jobs. A stroll to the River Thames one Saturday morning led her to her very own hero. The minute she laid eyes on the hunky rower getting out of a boat, clad only in Lycra and carrying a three-metre oar as if it was a toothpick, she knew she’d met the man she was going to marry. Luckily the rower thought the same.
She will always be grateful to whatever it was that made her stop dithering and actually sit down to type Chapter One, because dreaming up her own sparkling heroines and gorgeous heroes is pretty much her idea of the perfect job.
Originally a Londoner, Lucy now lives in Spain, where she spends much of the time reading, failing to finish cryptic crosswords, and trying to convince herself that lying on the beach really is the best way to work.
Visit her at www.lucyking.net
Also by Lucy King
THE CROWN AFFAIR
BOUGHT: DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
PROPOSITIONED BY THE BILLIONAIRE
Did you know these are also available as ebooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
To Sophie, Robert and Dom—for help with the details
CHAPTER ONE
Bella, hon,
Alex has this friend he’s been doing business with.
Single … Gorgeous … Clever … Loaded …. And he’s really up for meeting you. I know you’re not keen on blind dates, but I’ve met him and I think he’d be perfect for you. So what do you say?
x Phoebe
PS—What are you doing for your birthday?
HOW long did it take to type ‘Over my dead body’ and ‘Burrowing beneath my duvet’? Bella wondered, re-reading the email that had just landed in her in-box and glancing up at the clock.
Seeing that she had ten minutes before her two o’clock appointment was due, she swivelled back, shook her head in bemusement, and hit the reply button.
What planet was Phoebe on? Not keen on blind dates? That was the understatement of the century.
How could her so-called friend have forgotten the endless nights they’d spent dissecting the disastrous blind dates Bella had been on in the last six months or so?
How could Phoebe possibly have forgotten about the man who’d showered spittle over her every time he opened his mouth? The man who’d spent the entire evening addressing her cleavage? Or the man who, after insisting they go Dutch at a restaurant he’d invited her to, had got his calculator out to apportion the service charge?
Clearly Phoebe was so deliriously happy with Alex and so wrapped up in wedding plans that her memory had short-circuited.
Ignoring the sharp pang of envy at her friend’s whirlwind romance and her subsequent state of bliss, Bella frowned. She was the first to admit she was eager to settle down—spending one’s childhood trailing after a mother who’d had a racy, unstable, and, at one particularly low point, criminal past as well as a morbid fear of stagnating could do that to a woman—but she wasn’t desperate. Or at least not that desperate.
And frankly, she thought tartly, if this friend of Alex’s was as gorgeous, clever and as rich as Phoebe claimed, why was he still single? What was wrong with him?
As for celebrating her birthday, well, what was there to celebrate about that?
Once, when she’d been twenty-five, someone had asked her where she thought she’d be in ten years’ time. She’d blithely replied, saying that on top of the multimillion-pound business, she’d have the husband, the family and the security she’d always longed for. She’d had no doubt whatsoever that it would happen.
But had it? No. Here she was, about to turn thirty-five and still single, without even a whiff of the boyfriend on the horizon, let alone the peal of wedding bells and the pitter patter of tiny feet. The last thing she wanted was to celebrate her failure on that front.
Bella resisted the urge to throw herself onto the floor and wail. Where had it all gone wrong? She was reasonably attractive. Interesting. Fun. And not entirely devoid of brain power. So why was she still sitting there, gathering dust, on an increasingly empty shelf?
It wasn’t even as if she were particularly fussy. She didn’t require a full head of hair or a six-pack in a husband. She didn’t need fireworks and spectacular sex. She didn’t demand five-star holidays or dinners in the finest restaurants the world had to offer.
All she wanted from a man was a desire to commit. To her. Well, that and an ability to keep bodily functions more or less under control, which possibly did narrow the field somewhat. But was a decent man really too much to ask for?
Bella sighed, planted her elbows on her desk and stuck her chin in her hands, and considered her position.
Maybe she was being too fussy. By the time you got to your mid-thirties, single, available men didn’t exactly grow on trees. If you wanted one you had to grasp any opportunity that came your way, and following the recent spate of dating disasters, she had rather opted out of the game.
So perhaps it wasn’t any wonder that what she’d longed for since she was a teenager was still nothing more than a distant dream.
Hmm. Maybe she ought to stop being so sceptical and give this friend of Alex’s a chance. She didn’t have a whole lot of other options, and how could one date hurt?
In fact, instead of mentally blasting Phoebe for setting up another blind date, she ought to be grateful that her friend hadn’t yet given up on her. Positivity was the thing, she thought, sitting up and hauling her spirits up from where they were languishing somewhere around her feet. Because who knew? Friend of Alex might turn out to be The One.
Flexing her fingers, Bella typed a reply along the lines of ‘Sounds great’ and ‘Trying to forget about it’, and hit the send button.
A split second later the sound of the buzzer ricocheted through her workshop.
Aha.
Abandoning the rest of her emails, Bella jumped to her feet. That would be her two p.m. appointment. Expecting an experienced jeweller and a valuation for a number items of jewellery, not a woeful woman with a penchant for self-pity.
Fixing a smile to her face and pulling her shoulders back, Bella sailed through the door into her shop. And stopped dead. Her heart thumped and the breath shot from her lungs.
Wow.
The man standing on the other side of the front door, cupping his hand to the glass and peering in, was nothing short of gorgeous. He was tall and dark and broad-shouldered. Wearing a navy overcoat open to reveal a pale blue jumper, a scarf and jeans, and sporting a tan that couldn’t possibly be attributed to London in October.
Bella swallowed hard. When they’d spoken on the phone his voice had done the oddest things to her stomach, but she’d never imagined it would translate into real life. In her experience things rarely did. But William Cameron was just as attractive as his voice had promised.
And about her age, she thought, perking up considerably and automatically wondering whether he was single and available.
He straightened, gave her the barest glimmer of a smile as his eyes locked with hers, and Bella’s mouth went dry. A strange kind of heat rippled along her veins. Her legs wobbled. Her stomach fluttered and then bubbled with excitement. Her entire body heated from the inside out and her bones began to melt.
He lifted his eyebrows enquiringly, gave her another half-smile, as if he knew exactly what was running through her mind, and pressed the buzzer again.
The sound brought Bella careering back to reality and she jumped. Blinked. And gave herself a quick shake.
Good one, Bella. That’s the way to do business. Leave the client standing on the doorstep while you gawp at them. Very professional.
Ordering herself to get a grip and fervently hoping he wasn’t a mind-reader, she walked over to the wide display table that sat in one corner of her shop.
And caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that hung above it.
Oh, good Lord.
He wouldn’t need to be a mind-reader to figure out what was going through her head. All he’d have to do was take one look at her face and he’d know. He probably already did. Because her cheeks were flushed and her eyes had darkened. Her breathing was erratic and her chest was heaving. Thank goodness the pattern on her dress disguised the rest of her body’s reactions.
God, perhaps this was what was wrong with her, she thought, leaning down and pressing the button on the underside of the counter. Perhaps she was just too obvious. Perhaps she gave off desperate commitment-needy vibes or something. She stifled a shudder as she straightened. Heavens. If she did, how excruciating would that be?
It would probably be a good move to stop eyeing up every man she met as potential life-partner material, she told herself, taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to her face as he pushed the door open. Especially clients. However good-looking.
Cool, aloof and polite was the thing. The consummate professional, in fact. How hard could it be?
Deepening her smile, Bella walked forwards. And then came to an abrupt stop. Her shop wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination, but the minute he set foot inside all the oxygen apparently whooshed out. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart lurched and all her blood rushed south, and for one horrible second she thought she was going down. Locking her knees and gulping in a shaky breath, she steadied herself and just hoped she’d managed to recover before he’d had the chance to notice.
Without the barrier of the door separating them, the overall impact of him was really quite startling. She couldn’t work out which of her senses was most overwhelmed. Her vision when confronted with short straight hair the colour of obsidian, eyes as blue as iolite and the cheekbones that could have been chiselled from marble? Or her sense of smell when assaulted by the heady combination of sandalwood and spice?
As heat began to whip along her veins every inch of her itched to hurl itself at him to see if his body was as lean and muscled as it looked.
Oh, God. The man was not only gorgeous, he was practically magnetic.
So much for being cool, aloof and polite, thought Bella a little desperately as she fought to resist his pull. She was hot, bothered and feeling very rude indeed.
The door closed behind him and the lock automatically clicked into place. He tensed. Winced. And paled a fraction beneath his tan. For a split second she wondered why, but then he started running his gaze slowly over her, sliding down from her face to her breasts, her waist and then lower, and any curiosity she had vanished. As her body began to throb with awareness his lips curved into a faint smile, dragging her attention to his mouth, and all she could think about was what it might feel like on hers. Wanting it on hers. Hot and wet, hard and demanding.
The sudden thump of lust that walloped her in the stomach nearly knocked her off her feet and brought her slamming back to her senses. Bella blinked twice and battled for control. She really had to stop this. Yes, she wouldn’t be averse to a relationship, and yes, she’d decided that she ought to grab any opportunity that came her way, but she drew the line at ravishing a client on the floor of her shop.
Belatedly reminding herself that she wasn’t a teenager and she didn’t throb, with anything, ever, she cleared her throat and lifted her chin. ‘Good afternoon,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Bella Scott.’
‘Will Cameron,’ he said, wrapping his fingers around hers and giving her hand a firm shake before letting it go.
Two more of her senses hit the deck. His deep, wickedly lazy voice teased her ears, and her whole body tingled with the aftershocks of touching his hand.
The only sense left unaffected was that of taste, and that could be easily corrected. All she’d have to do would be to take one quick step towards him, reach up and plant a kiss on his mouth. Wind her arms round his neck, press herself against him, slide her tongue between his lips and she’d be able to find out exactly what he tasted like and exactly how hot, hard and demanding he was.
Agh, this was awful, she thought frantically fighting the instinct to swoon. It simply wouldn’t do. Grappling for her elusive self-control, Bella drew in a deep steadying breath.
‘Please,’ she said, finally managing to get a grip and waving a hand in the direction of the chair on the other side of the table. ‘Do sit down.’
Will folded himself into the chair and leaned back, taking up far too much space and, more disturbingly, far too much air. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me at such short notice.’
‘Not a problem.’
As breathing, however, apparently was something of a problem, she wished that at the time she’d said she was too busy. Which she was. Ever since one of her necklaces had featured on the catwalk last year, Bella had had more work than she could really cope with. But the mesmerising tones of Will’s voice over the phone had captivated her and the secret little longing to find out if the rest of him lived up to it had been impossible to resist.
‘You mentioned you had some items to be valued?’ she said, thinking that as it was way too late for regrets she’d better get on with it.
‘I do.’
‘For insurance?’
‘Probate.’
‘Oh,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sorry.’
He shrugged and his mouth twisted into what she presumed was supposed to resemble a smile. ‘Just one of the many formalities to get through.’
Hmm. That wasn’t quite what she’d meant, but his relationship with the deceased was none of her business. Or, to be honest, of nearly as much interest as what he’d brought her to value. She might have forged a career designing jewellery, but her first love would always lie with gemmology.
Bella’s mouth watered as tiny thrills of anticipation began to course through her. ‘May I see?’
He reached into his pocket, drew something from its depths and then leaned forwards and held it out to her.
She lowered her gaze and her breath hitched in her throat.
Oh, good Lord.
Catching her lip with her teeth, she took the ring from him, so mesmerised by its beauty that she barely noticed the tingles that rippled along her fingers when they brushed against his.
Utterly transfixed, she twisted the ring one way, then the other, and stifled a sigh of longing. She’d never seen anything quite so magnificent. The emerald-cut diamond solitaire was set in the platinum band and sparkled in the weak sun that had briefly broken through the heavy grey cloud of the autumnal afternoon and bathed the room. The stone had to be three carats at least. And flawless, judging by the perfect symmetry of the shards of light that were flashing all across the table.
‘So what do you think?’
Yes, she thought as her heart twanged. Oh, yes. If—no, when—she got engaged she’d love something like this.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured, unable to stop the trace of wistfulness that crept into her voice.
‘I couldn’t care less what it looks like,’ Will said flatly. ‘I’m only interested in what it’s worth.’
Bella jerked her eyes up to his and her little daydreamy bubble burst with a splat. What? How could anyone with an ounce of feeling in them be unmoved by such a beautiful thing?
Keeping her jaw firmly where it was instead of letting it drop in appal as it was threatening to do, she gave herself a quick shake. His attitude towards the ring was none of her business either, however much of a shame she thought it.
No. He was simply here for a valuation, not a lecture on gemmological appreciation. And from the tension currently radiating off him he was unlikely to welcome her opinions on the vast superiority of sentimental value over material worth.
Maybe he didn’t have an ounce of feeling, she decided, picking up her loupe and holding it to her eye. Maybe he hated the stuff. Certainly something about the tight set of his jaw told her he wasn’t the sentimental type. In fact he looked like the weary cynical type, and if that was the case he was definitely not her type, however gorgeous.
Firmly switching her attention to the ring, Bella turned it in her fingers. Examined it. Tilted it. Held it closer. Felt a stab of bewilderment and paused. Hmm. That was odd.
Perhaps there was something amiss with her loupe. Or her eyesight. Or maybe it was simply that with Will’s gaze fixed on her as he watched her at work, her fingers felt as thick and as useless as sausages and her head felt as if it had been well and truly scrambled.
‘Is something wrong?’
Very. On a number of levels. Lowering the loupe and hoping her concerns didn’t show on her face, she glanced up at him. ‘Would you mind if I did another test?’
‘Be my guest.’
Bella rummaged around in the drawer for her touchstone and gently rubbed the ring against it. Then she added a drop of liquid and observed the results. Well, that was something to be thankful for, she supposed. ‘Did you bring anything else for me to take a look at?’
He nodded, dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and spilled the contents on the table. As he did so his sleeves inched up and Bella’s gaze instinctively dropped to his wrists. Her mouth dried. Tanned, strong and sprinkled with a smattering of fine dark hairs, they were completely mouth-watering. Up until now she’d never really thought a man’s wrists particularly worthy of attention. Now they’d shot straight into the top five. Or at least Will’s had.
Unable to help herself she slid her gaze to his hands and was instantly assaulted by the vision of those hands roaming all over her, exploring her, lingering and seeking, the long brown fingers delving and probing as they roused her. The vision was so vivid, so real, that Bella’s temperature rocketed and her heart thundered.
Oh, this really had to stop. She’d never been so distracted. Certainly not when jewellery was in the picture. And right now, with the discovery she’d just made, she really couldn’t afford to be.
Dredging up every ounce of concentration she possessed, Bella swallowed hard and turned her attention to the tangle of pieces piled on the table.
God, they were exquisite. And if genuine, worth a fortune.
‘May I?’ she said, casting a quick glance up at him.
‘By all means.’
She picked up an art deco sapphire and diamond brooch and caught her breath. She put it back down and let a gold and emerald necklace slither through her fingers. Feeling like a child in a sweetshop, she felt her heart start pounding with anticipation. She’d never seen jewellery like it. Probably wouldn’t ever again. If there was more where these pieces came from Will Cameron would have quite a collection.
Assuming of course that her suspicions didn’t turn out to be correct.
As the excitement winding through her turned to trepidation Bella found a newer loupe in the drawer and braced herself to examine the rest.
Piece by piece, she performed the same tests. Taking her time as she scrutinised each item. Telling herself that she wanted to be sure, that she wasn’t stalling.
But she was. Just a little. Because with every passing minute her heart sank a little further.
As she put the last piece back down Bella stifled a sigh. She didn’t know who she was more disappointed for—herself for having had her illusions shattered or Will, who was only interested in the value of the objects and was, in all likelihood, going to be devastated.
‘Well?’ he said, arching an eyebrow.
‘I’m afraid I can’t give these a value,’ she said cautiously. At least not the sort of value he was after.
‘Why not?’
There was no way she could skirt around it. No way she could soften the blow. She could only hope that he wasn’t the type of man to shoot the messenger.
Making herself look him in the eye, she took a deep breath and said, ‘Because they’re synthetic.’
CHAPTER TWO
SYNTHETIC?
Will tensed. Impossible. They couldn’t be. He must have misheard. Been distracted by the effect Bella appeared to be having on him or something. Because she was certainly distracting.
The minute he’d laid eyes on her, standing there stock still, staring at him from inside her shop, he’d clocked the long dark hair, the body poured into a clingy dress and the knee-high boots, and a shaft of awareness had shot through him making his gut tighten and his blood heat.
When she’d finally sprung into action and let him in, he’d fought back the nausea that always surged up inside him at the sound of a lock sliding into place by resolutely focusing his attention on something else. In this case, her.
Within a split second of running his gaze over her curves, the simmering awareness had turned to lust. Which had swelled to almost uncontrollable proportions when he’d spotted the flush hitting her cheeks and a reciprocal flame of desire flickering in the depths of her darkening eyes. He’d taken her hand, her scent enveloping him and vaporising his equilibrium, and had had to drum up every ounce of control he possessed not to haul her into his arms, push her back and spread her over the table.
Once he’d managed to rein in that oddly violent reaction, he’d toyed with the idea of asking her out for dinner. God knew after spending the last couple of months sorting out his father’s estate, he could have done with a bit of distraction and some light female company.
There was nothing particularly unusual about that. Will liked women; they liked him. He was currently single and he had no problem with affairs, as long as they remained hot and short. With his DNA anything else was out of the question.
No, what was unusual was that to his growing frustration it appeared that, while he still ached with raging desire, Bella had obliterated whatever spark of attraction she’d experienced, and had retreated behind an air of aloof detachment.
Which wasn’t just unusual. It was baffling. And strangely disappointing, since he could barely remember the last time he’d had the opportunity to explore the heady delights of searing mutual attraction.
Not that he let it show, of course. No. He’d got used to arranging his face so that it didn’t reveal what he was thinking or feeling years ago.
Perhaps a bit too well, Will thought, frowning and shifting in the chair. From the way her head was tilting and her eyebrows were creeping up, Bella was obviously waiting for some sort of response.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and snapped his mind from perplexing women and evaporating dinner plans to the startling revelation that the samples he’d grabbed from the front of the safe and brought to be valued were synthetic.
How the hell could the stuff be synthetic? The collection had been built up over decades. Generations of his male ancestors had given the finest jewellery to their wives, and he was pretty sure that while virtually every single one of them had been lousy at keeping their marriage vows, they’d always bought the best.
Setting his jaw, he arched an eyebrow. ‘Synthetic?’ he echoed.
Bella nodded. ‘The settings are real. The metal is genuine. And original. But the stones are paste.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Pretty much. You see here?’ She held up the engagement ring his father had given to his mother, and leaned forwards.
Will’s initial instinct was to jerk back, but as that would imply he considered her some sort of threat—which was absurd—he held himself steady, even if it meant her proximity made his skin tighten and tingle.
Forcing himself to keep his eyes on the ring and well away from her mouth and the alluring way it moved, Will dragged his attention to what she was saying. ‘The lustre is too dull and the light comes in at all the wrong angles. I’d need to double check, but I suspect the originals have been replaced with cubic zirconia.’
As her words sank in Will’s blood chilled and he ruthlessly suppressed the mind-scrambling effect Bella seemed to have on him.
How on earth could this have happened? As far as he knew, the collection hadn’t left the safe it was stored in for years. ‘When?’
‘It’s impossible to say, but the settings look as if they’ve been manipulated recently. Probably within the past year or so.’
His jaw tightened and he sat back, making sure that his expression didn’t reveal any hint of his thoughts. He might not care about the collection per se, or even the unforeseen plummet in its value, but he did care that the discovery that someone had been ransacking it had been made on his watch. He was its current custodian and it was therefore up to him to find out who and why and how far they’d gone. And then decide what he was going to do about it.
‘I am sorry,’ she said quietly, giving him a look full of sympathy he really didn’t need.
Resisting the temptation to toss the whole lot in the bin, Will stuffed the jewellery back in his pockets. ‘I trust your conclusions will remain confidential,’ he said curtly.
Bella nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Good. In that case, I’d like you to take a look at the rest of the collection.’
‘There’s more?’
Her eyes widened and sparkled, and Will’s mind briefly went blank. Determinedly switching his focus to the dozens of boxes still in the vault and what might be lurking within them, he pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘A lot more.’
‘When?’
‘Now?’
‘I’ll get my things.’
For someone who’d just been told that the ten items of jewellery in his possession were in fact worthless fakes, Will appeared remarkably sanguine, thought Bella as they purred through the streets of central London. If it had been her, she’d have been wailing from the rooftops and tearing her hair out.
Quite what reaction she had been expecting she wasn’t sure, but it certainly hadn’t been complete indifference.
However, the moment they’d climbed into his car—his chauffeur-driven blacked-out-windowed car, no less—Will had hauled out his smartphone and had remained glued to it practically ever since, issuing a barrage of instructions to a string of poor hapless souls on the other end of the line, only one of which appeared to relate to the rest of the jewellery he wanted her to check out. The vast majority apparently pertained to some kind of complicated share-dealing business, which no doubt accounted for the chauffeur-driven car, the cashmere coat and the six-figure watch he wore.
There’d been a brief hiatus when Will had switched from making calls to checking his emails, during which Bella, feeling she ought to make some sort of stab at conversation, had established that she’d been recommended to him by Phoebe’s fiancå, Alex.
For one heart-stopping moment, it had struck her that Will might be the man Phoebe had been referring to in her email, but she’d dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had flitted into her head because Will Cameron did not strike her as the sort of man who went on blind dates.
Or the sort who delighted in small talk for that matter, judging by the monosyllabic way he’d answered her questions and had then effectively put an end to any more by resuming his calls.
Bella might have considered his absorption in his phone the height of bad manners if she hadn’t been so relieved. Trying to control all the thoughts and emotions swirling around inside her was bad enough. Having to engage in any further conversation on top of all that—without ending up babbling like an idiot—might well have been one challenge too great.
Right now, it was a toss-up as to what was uppermost in her mind. The number one spot, she suspected, ought to be occupied by fascination with the outcome of her earlier investigations. In position number two should be anticipation at what she might find when she checked out the rest.
But she had the unsettling feeling that both fell way below the increasingly perplexing effect Will seemed to have on her.
When she’d leaned forwards earlier to explain what she’d discovered, she’d inadvertently found herself so close to him that she’d been able to make out tiny flecks of navy in the blue of his eyes. So close she’d been able to see a few fine silvery hairs at his temples and so close she’d felt the warmth of his breath on her hand. She’d had to imagine she was stapled to the chair to stop herself from leaping up and throwing herself across the table at him. Because her brain might be missing in action but she was pretty sure that that was not the kind of service he was after.
Now, within the confines of his car, she was even more spine-tinglingly aware of him. The enclosed space intensified his whole presence. His voice seemed to reach right down inside her and wind itself around her nerves. His legs stretched out a hands-width from her, and his taut energy made her shiver.
As much as she might wish otherwise, every hormone she possessed was sitting up and panting. Her eyes kept being drawn to the hard thighs encased in denim and her hands itched to reach out and touch him. Every now and then, when they went round a corner, his shoulder would brush against hers and she had to clamp her palms together and twist her fingers around each other to stop her from taking advantage and accidentally on purpose falling into his lap.
It really was most disconcerting. Made even more so by the knowledge that, while she was burning up with lust, Will couldn’t be less affected by her. He certainly didn’t seem to be suffering from any kind of distraction. Even when she thought she’d caught him checking out her legs, the expression on his face and the look in his eyes had been utterly unfathomable, which was annoyingly unflattering.
By the time the car finally drew to a halt somewhere in the depths of the City Bella was in such a state that when the chauffeur materialised at the passenger door to open it, she nearly tumbled onto the pavement in her haste to escape.
Teetering on her heels and grabbing onto the door for support, she gulped in great breaths of fresh air and cast a shaky smile of thanks in the direction of Will’s driver.
Really, anyone would think she’d never experienced attraction before. Never felt desire. And she had. Loads of times. Not quite as mind-blowing or as instantaneous as this, but still.
Summoning strength to her legs, Bella released her vice-like grip on the car door, drew her shoulders back and tightened her grip on her equipment case and her wits. With superhuman effort she pushed Will Cameron’s disturbing effect on her from her mind, and reminded herself that she was nearly thirty-five, sensible and mature, and it was high time she started acting like it.
A bank, she thought, glancing up. That was where they were. Not that it was like any bank she’d ever ventured into. No. No high street logo or hole-in-the-wall for this bank. Only a discreet gold plaque screwed to the wall and a front door that was right this second sweeping open to reveal an opulent hallway and a middle-aged man wearing a morning suit and a polite smile.
‘Good afternoon, Your Grace,’ he said, with the hint of a bow.
‘Good afternoon, Watson,’ said Will, putting a hand on the small of Bella’s back and propelling her forward.
Bella’s heart stuttered and she nearly tripped over the doorstep, startled as much by the form of address as by the feel of Will’s hand on her back.
Your Grace? A bow? Who exactly was this Will Cameron with his chauffeur-driven car, his jewellery collection, his title and a bank that knew him by name? And how was it possible that her skin could burn beneath his hand despite the several layers of clothing between them?
‘Is everything ready?’ said Will.
Watson inclined his head. ‘As you requested, sir.’
‘Excellent. Thank you.’
‘If you’d like to follow me?’
‘You’re a duke?’ Bella muttered, just about managing to stay upright as Will manoeuvred her along the corridor in Watson’s wake.
Will nodded. ‘I am.’
‘Wow. I’ve never met a duke before.’ At least not a real one. There had been that friend of her mother’s, but he only claimed to be a duke on the Saturdays he gatecrashed various social events across the country and tried to persuade people to part with their fortunes.
‘There aren’t that many of us. But it’s no big deal.’
Not to him, maybe, but then he wasn’t the one who was wondering if he oughtn’t to stop and curtsey. ‘Rather young to be a duke, aren’t you?’ she murmured in the absence of knowing what else to say or do.
‘The third Duke of Hawksley was eight months old when he took on the title. I’m thirty-six. Hardly young.’
But hardly the wizened old buffer she’d mentally plucked from the Dukes R Us casting agency either.
Bella frowned as something about the name niggled at the edges her brain. For some annoyingly out-of-reach reason it seemed familiar. ‘Why didn’t you say anything, Your—uh—Grace?’
‘I didn’t mention it because I prefer not to use the title,’ he said, sounding as if he was gritting his teeth. ‘And “Will” will do.’
Will will do what? Bella wondered, and then began to drown in the heat that flooded through her at the thought of exactly what she’d like him to do.
She’d like him to swerve off to the left, drag her down some dusty deserted corridor and back her up against a wall. She’d like him to lift her up, wrap her legs around his waist and crush his mouth down on hers. She’d like him to run his hands all over her and drive her mindless with need. Most of all she’d like him hot and hard and deep inside her.
At the bolt of desire that thumped her in the stomach Bella went dizzy and stumbled. Would have hit the floor had Will not caught her arm and steadied her.
‘Are you all right?’
Bella dragged in a breath and blinked a couple of times as she fought to wipe her head of the images. Oh, good Lord. She was fantasising. About Will. A duke. So much for thinking she didn’t go for the cynical weary type, she thought dolefully. And so much for sensible and mature.
Wishing she could give herself a good slap, she pulled herself together. She could stop fantasising right now. Because if she didn’t, she could well find herself getting completely carried away and have them riding off into the sunset together before the day was out. Which, given his indifference to her, was as unlikely as it was inappropriate.
‘I’m fine,’ she said a little shakily, wriggling away from beneath his grip before she did something really unhinged like deliberately letting her knees collapse and falling into his arms. ‘Absolutely fine. These heels weren’t designed for this carpet, that’s all.’
A pathetic excuse if ever there was one but it would have to do. And it did very well until Will slid his eyes right down her body to the heels she’d unfairly blamed for her stumble.
His gaze was so laser-like, so intense, that it felt as if her clothes were disintegrating in its wake, leaving her standing there in front of him completely naked. And then, at the thought of that, she went so hot and trembly she nearly stumbled all over again.
‘I dare say they weren’t,’ he murmured, lifting his eyes to hers, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his jeans and then swivelling round and striding after the butler.
For a second Bella just stood there, staring at his retreating figure, her heart thudding as she wondered if she’d imagined the flare of desire she’d caught in his eyes.
Must have done, she decided firmly, dismissing the thought as nonsense and springing forwards in an effort to catch him up. Will had shown no indication that he was attracted to her whatsoever, so why would he start now? It had probably been a trick of the light or something.
‘So the jewellery comes with the title?’ she said, eventually drawing up at his side and trying not to pant at the sudden physical exertion.
‘It does.’
And just like that a light bulb switched on in her head.
Oh, my.
Her brain spun and her heart raced. No wonder the name had sounded familiar. No wonder something about the samples he’d brought her had niggled away at her brain. And no wonder the collection was stored at one of the most prestigious private banks in the world.
Will was taking her to see none other than the Hawksley Collection.
Bella caught her breath as excitement ripped through her. The Hawksley Collection was a legend. The greatest, most romantic jewellery collection in the world. It consisted of around two hundred love tokens, gifts of eternal adoration and appreciation, bestowed by the men in the Hawksley family on the women they loved.
She’d heard about it, of course. Had read about it. Had secretly envied it and yearned for someone to love her with that much passion, that much devotion. But she’d never seen it. No one had recently. It hadn’t been on display for years, which had only added to its glamorous mystique.
It was so achingly romantic. So completely heart-fluttering. So dreamily sigh-inducing.
And it was fake?
Questions clamoured at her brain. How? Why? Who else knew? And what would she find when she examined the rest? Would the whole lot turn out to be fake?
Her throat burned, her vision blurred and her mind boggled. Even if she could untangle the questions ricocheting around her head she could hardly ask. Not with the butler melting away and the security guard stepping forward to usher them into the lift.
‘You go on down,’ said Will, tilting his head in the direction of the lift, and backing away. ‘I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes. I have to make a quick call.’
Bella frowned. Another one? What could possibly be more urgent than this? This was staggering. This was humongous. But it was his collection, and if he wanted to let her go down ahead of him and leave her alone with the jewellery, who was she to argue?
‘OK,’ she said, trying to remain cool, which was almost impossible with all the emotions thundering through her. ‘I’ll see you down there.’
Will watched the lift doors close, shoved his hands through his hair and, abandoning all pretence of making a phone call, headed towards the stairs.
If he’d had any idea of the torture a half-hour car ride with Bella would induce, he’d have ditched the car and insisted on making the journey from Notting Hill to the City by Tube.
If they’d taken the Tube, he thought grimly, attacking the stairs two at a time, he wouldn’t have had to spend the last thirty minutes struggling to keep his hands to himself. He’d have had plenty to concentrate on. Adverts. Announcements. Maps. Other people.
And yes, given his irritatingly ingrained problem with places and situations from which he couldn’t escape, it would have been hell, but no more so than what he’d just been through.
Despite trying to keep himself busy with his smartphone, he’d had little else to concentrate on but Bella. With her dress constantly riding up and giving him an eyeful of slim thigh, and her scent winding into his head and making him think of hot exotic nights, Will’s imagination had gone into overdrive.
It had had her giving him a smouldering smile, shooting him a come-hither glance and sliding across the leather towards him. As his body had responded with annoying predictability, his imagination had then got really carried away, and before he could rein it in Bella was bunching up her dress and sitting astride him, leaning down and whispering in his ear. She was arching her back, thrusting her breasts forwards, and then she was lowering her lips to his, sliding her tongue into his mouth and kissing him slowly, languidly, mind-blowingly as she writhed against him.
God, just remembering it now made him stiffen and ache.
Heaven only knew what instructions he’d given his team. He could have lost millions for all he knew. But it was either that or reaching forwards and pressing the button that raised the partition between the back seat and Bob, and setting about making his fantasies a reality. Which, based on the froideur with which Bella had treated him to date, he doubted would have been welcome.
She really did do chilly hauteur exceptionally well, he thought, scowling down at the stairs as the rigid way she’d held herself in the car popped into his head. She’d spent virtually the whole journey staring out of the window, hands clasped tightly in her lap, so tense and still that every time they went over a bump he wondered if she might shatter.
Although, actually, now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been much chilly hauteur about the way she’d scrambled from the car, had there? Nor in the way she’d jumped when he put his hand on her back. And there very definitely hadn’t been any chilly hauteur in the hot hungry look in her eye when she’d stumbled a few minutes ago and he’d caught her.
Will jerked to a halt and stood frozen to the spot, his brain racing as his pulse leapt and his blood heated.
Good God.
Maybe Bella wasn’t quite as cool and aloof as she’d like him to think. Maybe he did affect her. Maybe she was as attracted to him as he was to her, and the icy distance she fought to maintain was simply her way of dealing with it.
And if that was the case, he thought, his spirits soaring as he leapt down the last couple of stairs and strode along the passage towards the vault, then he really really wanted to be around when all that latent smouldering heat erupted.
In fact, maybe, just maybe, dinner wasn’t out of the question after all.
CHAPTER THREE
‘THAT’S it. I’m done.’
At the sound of Bella’s voice Will snapped his head up to find her rolling her shoulders and rubbing the back of her neck.
It had been three hours since he’d joined her in the vault and in those three hours these were the first words she’d uttered, at least to him.
By the time he’d caught up with her, she’d already got to work, so engrossed in taking her tools out of her case and setting her things up that she’d barely acknowledged his arrival. She’d cast a quick wide-eyed glance at the dozens of boxes neatly lined up on the table and had muttered that if she was to finish this side of midnight she’d better get on with it.
Will had figured that, as conversation didn’t appear welcome, an invitation to dinner would most likely be ignored, so had planted himself at the other end of the table and opened up his laptop.
His plan had been to bide his time until a suitable moment to ask her out cropped up by clarifying any misunderstandings that might have arisen from his phone calls in the car, and catching up on some work.
Ha. What a waste of energy that had been. He didn’t think he’d ever had a less productive three hours. Every time he tried to concentrate his gaze would slide over to Bella and he’d find himself wondering exactly what colour her hair and eyes were. Somehow dark brown and light brown didn’t quite cover it.
At one point she’d been examining a long multi-stranded pearl necklace, and he’d had a sudden vision of her lying on the table completely naked, except for the pearls, with one leg bent and an enticing smile curving her lips. His body had responded with a startling intensity and even now, an hour later, he could feel a lingering ache behind the buttons of his jeans.
Not that she’d been aware of his musings, of course. Or his reaction to her. No. Her complete and utter focus on her work was as fascinating and as impressive as his wasn’t.
Shutting down the spreadsheet he’d spent the last hour staring pointlessly at, Will closed his laptop. ‘And?’ he asked.
‘The pieces on this side,’ Bella said, indicating the group of boxes on the table to her left, ‘are genuine. These,’ she said, turning her attention to the group on the other side, ‘are not.’
Well, that was something to be grateful for, he supposed. The group on the right was a tenth of the size of that on the left. ‘Not quite as bad as I’d feared.’
Bella nodded. ‘I agree. It seems that all the big stones are genuine. It’s the smaller ones that have been tampered with.’ She frowned. ‘Which does make some kind of sense, I guess.’
‘Really?’ None of it made any sense to him.
‘Absolutely.’
‘How?’
‘Smaller stones are easier to replace. Fewer questions asked when taken to be sold.’
‘You think they’ve been sold?’
Her eyes jerked to his. ‘Don’t you?’
He didn’t have a clue what to think. ‘It’s certainly a possibility.’
‘Well, I can’t think why else anyone would do something like this. Do you have any idea who it could be?’
Will frowned. As far as he knew only he and his aunt now had access to the safe and for the life of him he couldn’t see her raiding the contents. And as for his father, well, he’d been difficult, yes, but he’d never replace the stone in the engagement ring he’d given to Will’s mother, whom he’d loved in his own warped way.
Nevertheless, he thought, cutting that avenue of thought off before he got tangled up in the memories and the guilt, someone was responsible. ‘Not yet,’ he said grimly. ‘But I will.’
She tilted her head and the look in her eye turned quizzical. ‘Is any of it yours?’
Will went still and felt some of the heat leave his body. ‘On my father’s death three months ago it all became mine.’
She flashed him a wide smile. ‘You know what I mean.’
He did, and his temperature dropped a little more. ‘I take it you recognise the collection.’
‘I doubt there’s anyone in my industry who wouldn’t. The famous Hawksley Collection.’ She grinned. ‘It’s legendary. So wonderfully romantic. The kind of thing little girls’ dreams are made of.’
The kind of things her dreams were made of? he wondered darkly, catching the trace of wistfulness in her voice and feeling something hard and cold lodge in the pit of his stomach.
Romantic? What a joke.
Bella and little girls, and the rest of the world for that matter, might like to believe that the famous Hawksley Collection consisted of two hundred tokens of undying love, but what Bella, the little girls and the world didn’t know, what no one outside the immediate family knew, was that his ancestors were a bunch of adulterous lying cheats, and that ninety per cent of the items in the collection represented an apology for one infidelity after the other.
‘So?’
Biting back the urge to snap that it was none of her business, Will schooled his features and forced himself to remain calm. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘In that respect none of it’s mine.’
But it was hard to stay calm when all of a sudden his stomach was churning and his head was pounding.
It was hard to stay calm when he knew that the collection was built on a pack of lies and that the legendary status it had acquired was completely undeserved.
It was even harder to stay calm when he had to live with the constant knowledge that he ought to have contributed to that ninety per cent. Just once.
Before he had time to brace himself, memories of Tania slammed into his head and a steel band tightened around his chest crushing the breath from his lungs.
As clearly as if it had happened yesterday, he could see the look of devastation on his ex-girlfriend’s face when, racked with guilt, he’d admitted he’d been unfaithful. He could still remember the tears, the recriminations, the pain he’d caused. And he was still, years later, plagued by guilt, despite her subsequent forgiveness and her acknowledgement that he hadn’t been wholly to blame.
‘Maybe you simply haven’t met the right woman yet.’
Setting his jaw and pushing the memories aside, Will dragged himself out of the past. Not met the right woman? His gut twisted. With any luck he never would. Because there’d be no relationships for him. Ever. No marriage. No children. No family. No danger of wrecking any more lives, the way his ancestors had. The way he had. He simply couldn’t risk it.
‘Maybe not,’ he said coolly, ruthlessly obliterating the pang of regret that jabbed at his soul and pulling himself together.
‘Anyway,’ said Bella as she pushed her chair back and stood up, ‘what are you going to do?’
Good question. ‘Put it all back in the safe while I decide,’ he said, wishing that the whole damn collection could be forgotten about.
She sighed and began packing her kit away. ‘It’s such a shame,’ she said, shaking her head a little. ‘Practically criminal.’
There it was again, he thought, his attention zooming in on her face as much as her voice. The wistfulness. The longing. The hope. The same things he’d seen and heard when he’d first handed her his mother’s ring, and had chosen to ignore.
But he couldn’t ignore it any longer.
It was blindingly obvious to anyone who bothered to take a look that Bella was a romantic. She designed jewellery for a living and, according to Alex, specialised in engagement rings. Which meant she believed in for ever. As he very definitely couldn’t believe in for ever, whether he wanted to or not, Bella was out of bounds.
Up until now, Will had obviously been blind. Bamboozled by unusually intense chemistry and at the complete mercy of certain parts of his body. Well, not any more, he thought, rubbing a hand over his face and watching her zip up her case. Now he was looking. And coming to the depressing realisation that all that latent heat bubbling inside her would have to be tapped by someone else, because he never got involved with women who wanted more than he’d ever be able to give.
Ignoring the stab of disappointment that struck him in the chest, Will stifled a sigh and got to his feet. He stalked round the table, plucked her coat off the back of her chair, held it open for her and squared his jaw.
His mind was made up.
Regret was pointless.
They were done.
* * *
So that was that, thought Bella, sliding her arms into the sleeves of her coat and forcing herself not to shiver when Will’s fingers brushed the back of her neck. Watching him march back to gather up his laptop, she freed her hair from the collar of her coat and gave it, and herself, a quick shake.
And why wouldn’t it be? Their business was concluded, and no doubt he had other pressing things to be getting on with. She certainly did.
Fastening the buttons, Bella stamped down on the disappointment darting through her and told herself not to be so ridiculous. She had no reason to feel as deflated as a month-old balloon by the knowledge that Will didn’t want to prolong their encounter, like by suggesting dinner or something. Just because it was that time of day and she had been working flat out on his behalf all afternoon he was under no obligation to feed her, was he?
No. And even if he were, she reminded herself as she knotted the belt, she’d have declined, wouldn’t she?
Because the way Will had clammed up and gone all tense when she’d tentatively probed him about whether any of the jewellery was his told her that he had issues, and while she might be in the market for a man—and was perfectly well aware that no one got to her age without some kind of baggage—on balance she’d prefer one without too much. Will, she sensed, had trolleyfuls of the stuff.
‘Right,’ she said, picking up her case and flashing him a cool little smile. ‘Well, I’ll be off, then.’
‘Be sure to send me your bill,’ he said, looking and sounding as if he’d already left, in spirit if not in body.
‘I will.’ She nodded. ‘Email or post?’
Will shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. Whichever you—’
But whatever he had been going to say—and ‘prefer’ seemed probable—remained unsaid because he tailed off, his gaze sliding away from hers and fixing on something over her shoulder.
Intrigued by the taut stillness that had gripped his broad frame and the tightening of his jaw, she turned. To see a woman hovering at the gate of the vault.
How old she was Bella couldn’t tell. Her forehead was suspiciously wrinkle-free and her hands were encased in gloves. Her blonde hair was swept up and diamonds twinkled in her ear lobes. Wrapped in a cream knee-length coat and shod in beautiful brown crocodile-skin heels, she had a timeless elegance that Bella couldn’t help but envy.
Whoever she was, however, Bella guessed that she hadn’t been expecting company, not if the way her face was paling and her mouth was opening was any indication. In fact, Bella was pretty sure that had they been able to her eyes would be widening and her eyebrows would be shooting up.
But before she could analyse the woman’s facial movements—or lack of—any further, she’d regained her composure and glided into the vault.
‘Will,’ she said, lifting her chin and bestowing a regal smile on each of them in turn.
Bella glanced at Will, whose expression was as unreadable as the blonde’s, although she imagined for entirely different reasons. ‘Caroline,’ he said. ‘This is a surprise.’
His voice was agreeable enough, but Bella thought she could detect a hint of steel, and her stomach fluttered with something that felt strangely like a thrill.
‘It is,’ said Caroline, clasping her hands together. ‘I—ah—didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘Likewise.’ He crossed his arms over his formidable chest and stood there staring at her, as hard and unyielding as granite, and an involuntary shiver raced down Bella’s spine.
‘I thought you said you had business to attend to today.’
‘I did.’
Bella stared at both of them, curiosity stabbing at her brain. Who exactly was this and what was going on?
‘So what are you doing here?’ asked Caroline.
‘Checking up on my assets.’
A flicker of apprehension leapt in her eyes and then vanished. ‘Really?’ she said with a demure nonchalance that Bella had to admire.
‘Really.’ Will nodded, but didn’t take his gaze off her and Bella was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that stare. For despite her best efforts to remain cool and unperturbed, the poor woman was beginning to look as if she were being skewered to the spot. Having spent the entire afternoon in Will’s disturbing company, Bella rather knew how she felt. ‘And what are you doing here?’ he said.
Evidently something she shouldn’t be, thought Bella, what with all the tension and the undercurrents flowing around the place. It was becoming pretty obvious who was responsible for tampering with the jewellery, and if she’d been in Caroline’s shoes, she’d have gone white and then bright red, mumbled something about just being passing and then dashed off.
Caroline, however, was clearly made of sterner stuff. She merely waved a vague hand and smiled. ‘Oh, you know,’ she said airily. ‘Just popping in to take a quick look. I thought I might borrow something for the—ah—charity gala I’m attending tomorrow night.’
‘I see.’ Will nodded and for one brief moment Bella thought he was going to leave it at that.
As did Caroline, judging by the way her shoulders relaxed a little. ‘So please don’t let me keep you.’
‘You aren’t.’ Will paused. Ran his hand along his jaw as if in deep thought and then said in a voice that was dangerously low and icily controlled, ‘By the way, this is Bella. Bella’s a jeweller.’
‘How absolutely fascinating,’ murmured Caroline, sounding as if she thought it was quite the opposite, but darting a quick smile in Bella’s direction nevertheless.
‘It has been. She’s been valuing the collection … ‘ He tilted his head but didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘She’s been carrying out checks and tests and all kinds of other things.’
In the long seconds of silence that followed, during which horrified realisation gradually dawned in Caroline’s eyes and the blood drained from her face, Bella couldn’t help feeling another flash of sympathy.
‘Ah,’ the blonde murmured eventually. ‘I see.’ There was another tension-laden pause. ‘Good at her job, is she?’
‘The best.’ Will unfolded his arms and took a step forwards. ‘Caroline,’ he said in a voice that brooked no argument and made Bella tingle in a highly disconcerting fashion, ‘I think we need to have a chat.’
Caroline blinked. Probably would have frowned had her forehead allowed. ‘Do we?’
Will stopped nodded. ‘We do.’
‘Well, if you absolutely insist, Will,’ she said, lifting her chin and flashing him a tight smile. ‘But perhaps later.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m in a terrible hurry.’
‘Now.’ The word cracked through the air like a whip, and Bella jumped. Oh, this showdown was going to be explosive, she thought with a shuddery little thrill.
‘Ah,’ said Caroline, glancing over her shoulder and edging back towards the entrance to the vault. ‘Well, now really isn’t all that convenient.’
‘Too bad,’ he snapped.
And barely before Bella could figure out what was going on, Will was springing forwards, gripping Caroline’s elbow and marching her out of the vault, leaving Bella standing there, open-mouthed in astonishment as she watched them disappear down the corridor.
CHAPTER FOUR
WELL, that had to be one of the oddest conversations he’d ever had, thought Will, climbing into his car twenty minutes later and slamming the door.
Once he’d got her alone, Caroline had had no option but to tell him everything he wanted to know. He hadn’t even had to push all that hard; she might have started reluctantly, but once she’d got into her stride she hadn’t been able to stop. In fact, the more she’d talked, the more Will had had the impression she’d actually found it something of a relief to be able to unburden herself.
Nevertheless, the ease with which she poured it all out didn’t make what she’d had to say any less startling, or any less forgivable.
Will sank back against the leather and rubbed a hand over his face as his mind ran over his aunt’s confession.
Apparently she’d been sneaking into the bank every week for the past six months, switching the jewellery one piece at a time.
Apparently she’d been bored.
And lonely.
Which, to be honest, had astounded him. As far as he’d been able to gather in the two months he’d been back, Caroline drifted from one social engagement to another, more often than not with a quick visit to her plastic surgeon in between.
If he’d taken the trouble to think about it he wouldn’t have imagined she’d have had the time to be bored or lonely.
Or, for that matter, to become addicted to online bridge.
But she had. With a vengeance and a complete absence of talent.
At first she’d more or less broken even. But as the addiction had taken hold, her bank balance simply hadn’t been able to keep up. Once her own funds had run out, she’d gone to the bank for a loan, and then, when her debts had begun to mount up, she’d hit upon the idea of selling the stones in the collection to both pay them off and facilitate her ongoing habit.
Stunned—because he hadn’t known his aunt had even heard of the internet, let alone knew how to log on and embroil herself in the world of online gaming—Will had muttered that it was a good thing he’d flown back before she’d managed to get her hands on the Caravaggios. At which point Caroline had flashed her eyes at him and pointed out that caring for his cantankerous father hadn’t exactly been a picnic, and he ought be grateful she hadn’t sought refuge in alcohol or drugs or unsuitable men.
Swamped by an unwelcome and unexpected deluge of guilt at the realisation that by dashing off to the other side of the world he had left her to deal with his father’s moodiness pretty much non-stop for the past thirteen years, Will had promised to clear her debts as soon as he got home, on the condition that she never logged on again.
With relief shining in her eyes, she’d thanked him, told him he was a good man, and scarpered.
The car pulled out into a gap in the traffic and Will closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose, his stomach churning as memories and guilt assailed him from all directions.
A good man?
Yeah, right.
He wasn’t a good man. If he were a good man, he wouldn’t have left his aunt to deal with his father by herself. He’d have stuck around instead of escaping everything by emigrating to the Cayman Islands.
If he were a good man he’d have swallowed back his bitterness and been on a plane the minute he’d heard his father was ill. He’d have come back for the funeral at least, instead of telling himself it wasn’t a convenient time.
If he really were a good man he’d never have weakened and given in to a moment’s temptation all those years ago.
At the very least he wouldn’t have abandoned his manners for an entire afternoon.
The unfamiliar sense of shame that had spun through him when, moments before disappearing, his aunt had suggested he might want to go and see if Bella was all right jabbed him in the chest all over again.
Because as much as it annoyed him, actually Caroline had had a point. He really shouldn’t have stormed out and left her standing there, undoubtedly thinking him arrogant and cursing him to heaven and back.
And she’d be perfectly justified to do exactly that on both fronts, because come to think of it, he reflected as he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, none of his behaviour had been exactly exemplary this afternoon. After demanding she accompany him to the bank he’d then spent the journey there ignoring her. And then she’d asked him about his possible contributions to the collection and he’d sat there brooding and tight-jawed as he charged off down a traumatic memory lane while all she’d been doing was expressing an interest.
Yes, he’d been disconcerted by the effect she had on him, and yes, he’d then been poleaxed by the appearance of his aunt at the bank, and what it had to mean, but that was no excuse for abandoning civility. He hadn’t even thanked her for helping him out this afternoon.
No wonder by the time he’d made it back to the vault to apologise for dashing off quite so unthinkingly she’d vanished. If it had been him, he wouldn’t have hung around either.
Inwardly cringing at his uncharacteristically callous behaviour, Will was struck once more by the need to remedy the situation and shot upright.
By now, he reasoned, frowning as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat, Bella would be on her way home, and who knew where that was? So all he could do was give her a call to apologise and thank her profusely for her help this afternoon, and hope she’d accept his grovelling.
And, with any luck, that would be that, he thought, his head beginning to ache as this afternoon’s unexpected string of events ricocheted around his brain. His conscience would be clear, the weirdly distasteful notion that Bella might think him arrogant would be appeased, and today, thank heavens, would be over.
Scrolling through his list of contacts to find her number, Will glanced out of the window at the driving rain and hoped she’d managed to find a taxi, because frankly he didn’t think his conscience could cope with the idea of her having to battle the weather on top of everything else.
And then out of the corner of his eye he caught the flash of fuchsia pink and as his stomach plummeted he realised she hadn’t and it was going to have to.
Because there she was, striding along the pavement, holding her equipment case on her head, bending forwards against the rain, glowering at the ground and looking as if she was muttering to herself.
Narrowing his eyes as he watched her and feeling another stab of guilt attack his conscience, Will abandoned his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. He couldn’t ignore her. Not again. Not when he still owed her an apology.
Gritting his teeth, he leaned forward to tell Bob to slow down and pull over, because offering her a lift home was the least he could do.
It would have to be raining, wouldn’t it? thought Bella glumly, trudging along the street to the nearest Tube stop and trying to avoid the puddles.
If only she’d brought her umbrella. If only she’d been wearing a mackintosh and wellies instead of a cashmere coat and brand-new suede boots. If only she’d been able to find a taxi. But free taxis in central London when it was pouring with rain were as rare as pink diamonds.
As, apparently, were manners in peers of the realm.
The wind flapped at the bottom of her coat, chilling her knees, and the indignation that had surged through her the minute she’d found herself alone in the vault flooded back.
How could Will have just left her there without so much as a ‘thank you for your help’ or a ‘would you mind seeing yourself out?’ How could he have forgotten about her quite so comprehensively the second something more interesting and important had come along? So clearly Caroline had been up to no good, and of course Will would have wanted to get to the bottom of it, but he could have said something.
But had he? No. Once she’d served her purpose he’d barely spared her a second thought. He’d simply marched off, Caroline in tow, on top of everything else depriving her of the showdown she’d been looking forward to.
Rain trickled down her collar and she swore beneath her breath. Huh. What exactly had he expected her to do? Hang round like some sort of minion until he deigned to come back? If he’d deigned to come back? Or hadn’t she even crossed his mind?
She scowled down at the shiny wet pavement. It was so rude. And OK, so Will was a duke, but that didn’t give him the right to dismiss lesser mortals with quite such ease.
But perhaps that was typical of someone like him, she thought darkly, hopping to one side to avoid a puddle the size of the Mediterranean as her mind ran over the events of the afternoon.
He hadn’t exactly asked if she’d been free to accompany him to the bank, had he, the arrogant man? He’d just assumed. Commandeered her entire afternoon and then once he’d got what he wanted had unceremoniously ditched her.
At some point this afternoon she’d clearly lost her mind. Because what on earth had she been thinking, dropping everything she’d been planning on working on today and following Will like some kind of soppy smitten fool?
Usually she worked to a strict timetable. Usually she prioritised. Usually she never pushed things aside when something better came along. She liked to think she was more professional and better organised than that.
But what had she done this afternoon? Let herself be carried away by a very well-packaged man with an intriguing jewellery problem.
And to think that up until the point he’d stormed out, she’d actually been finding all that pent-up iciness, all that glowering and glinting and frowning, attractive. To think that Will had been exuding unyielding alpha maleness from every pore and she had been a hair’s breadth away from swooning. God. She’d always believed she’d abhorred that kind of attitude, yet there she’d been, quivering with lust and wondering what it would be like to have all that passion directed at her. So what kind of a perverse idiot did that make her?
Catching sight of the Tube sign, Bella quickened her pace, her heart thumping wildly with every step.
And who was this Caroline woman with her frozen face and fabulous wardrobe anyway? Will hadn’t bothered to introduce them so for all Bella knew she could be his wife. Stumbling on a loose paving stone and accidentally planting her foot in a puddle, she felt water seep through to her toes and her resentment tripled.
Oh, she’d be sending him a bill all right, she thought, shivering as a chilly gust of wind slapped rain at her stinging cheeks. Make no mistake about that. In fact, she’d be charging him double. For the urgency of the job and the lack of notice he’d given her. And she’d also be adding extra for the damage done to her coat and boots. So that would probably triple the bill, but who cared? She doubted he’d even—
‘Bella?’
The familiar deep voice cut through her thoughts and Bella jerked to an abrupt halt, her insides leaping all over the place as she blinked the rain from her eyes and swung round.
At the sight of the outrageously gorgeous, abominably rude and unfairly dry head sticking out of the window of the car that was purring alongside her, her heart, the treacherously pathetic organ it was, skipped a beat even as her indignation soared.
Oh, this was great. Just great. He would have to turn up now, wouldn’t he, looking all cool and relaxed and sexy when she was doing an excellent impression of a drowned rat? An extremely cold, extremely stroppy drowned rat.
‘What do you want?’ she said, too fed up with everything to care that she was the one now sounding rude.
‘Would you like a lift?’
Yes. ‘No, thanks,’ she said mutinously. ‘I’m fine.’
‘It’s pouring.’
‘I had noticed,’ she said, aiming for withering but finding withering annoyingly hard to do when her hair was plastered to her face, her arms ached from trying to protect her head with her weighty equipment case and her feet squelched in her boots.
Êîíåö îçíàêîìèòåëüíîãî ôðàãìåíòà.
Òåêñò ïðåäîñòàâëåí ÎÎÎ «ËèòÐåñ».
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