Say It with Diamonds

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 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 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.