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 fiancé, 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
