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Chapter Seven

W ill had ruined her for ever, Bella thought morosely, taking a sip of champagne and resisting the temptation to down her glass in one. That was the only possible explanation.

Because Phoebe had been right. Alex's friend, who'd turned out not to be Will of course, but Sam, was attractive, intelligent and witty.

He was interesting, good company and he'd brought her to a restaurant she'd been dying to try out ever since she'd read about it in a magazine a week or so ago.

He'd kept his eyes on her face, had ordered vintage champagne and had told her the evening was on him and that she was to have whatever she wanted.

He was absolutely perfect.

Except for one thing. One tiny weeny little thing that shouldn't have bothered her in the slightest but now, apparently, did. A lot.

And that was the complete absence of any chemistry whatsoever.

Bella bit her lip as frustration clutched at her stomach.

Up until a couple of days ago she'd been perfectly happy to sacrifice mindblowing orgasms in favour of long-term commitment.

Up until a couple of days ago chemistry hadn't even featured on her wish list. Now, apparently, it had gone in at number two.

Now, apparently, she wanted commitment and great sex, which was as irritating as it was scarily unattainable.

When she'd met Sam in the bar earlier she'd automatically checked him out.

She'd looked into his eyes, studied his mouth, his smile and run her gaze over his body in the hope of feeling something.

But had she? No, she hadn't. Not a spark.

Not a tingle. Not a shudder. She'd dug around for even the tiniest flicker of lust, but it wasn't there.

That it now seemed to matter was infuriating in the extreme. Particularly since it was, she knew, all down to Will and the lingering effect he seemed to have on her.

With hindsight she should have simply sent him a text instead of calling. At the time though, texting, after what they'd been up to, had somehow seemed a little cowardly. Now however, she wished she hadn't been quite so principled.

The last forty-eight hours had been a nightmare. Ever since he'd abruptly hung up on her she'd barely slept. Barely been able to eat. And as for work, well, that had been a complete disaster.

Yesterday she'd been working on an emerald pendant, and without warning the fiercely intense expression on Will's face as he thrust deep inside her had flown into her head. As desire had bolted through her her vision had blurred, her hand had trembled and the emerald had shattered.

After that Bella had stuck to paperwork.

Which might have been safer for her profit margin, but still didn't stop her mind wandering.

As much as she told herself that she'd done the right thing by terminating any further contact with Will, it hadn't stopped her from thinking about him constantly.

It hadn't stopped her mentally adding thick dark hair, deep blue eyes and a firm muscled body, along with sizzling chemistry, to her wish list.

And it hadn't stopped her from feeling ever so slightly put out that he'd given in quite so easily.

Which was so mind-bogglingly absurd it was certifiable. Because what had she expected after she'd bailed on him? That he'd beg her to go out with him? Huh. She doubted Will Cameron had ever begged for anything in his life. And even if he had, she still wouldn't have gone out with him.

So why was she being so contrary? Why was he so hard to put out of her head? Why was she finding it so difficult to move on?

Sam's phone call yesterday evening should have been the perfect chance.

The invitation to dinner couldn't have come at a better time and she'd fallen on it like a single female wedding guest landing on the bride's bouquet, saying yes with such effervescent enthusiasm that he'd probably got completely the wrong idea.

Agh. Bad simile, Bella thought as her head began to swim at the images that weddings and bride's bouquets and saying yes in the context of Will conjured up.

Resisting the urge to hit herself over the head with the menu, she set her jaw and harnessed her self-possession.

She really had to get a grip. She'd had quite enough of this pointless fixation with Will.

Will was long gone. She had to focus on the future.

And the present, come to think of it. She was here with Sam now and even if their date wasn't going to go anywhere she owed it to him to make more of an effort.

Feeling slightly ashamed at quite how far she'd drifted from the conversation, Bella blinked and snapped her brain back to the man sitting opposite her telling her about…well, about something.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, aware that he was looking at her as if expecting some kind of contribution. 'What were you saying?'

'Nothing particularly interesting,' he said, giving her a dry smile and sitting back.

Bella felt her cheeks grow warm and inwardly grimaced. She was hardly the most scintillating date Sam could have hoped for. Pulling herself together, she flashed him a bright smile. 'Oh, I'm sure that's not true,' she said.

'Believe me, it is.' He tilted his head and regarded her thoughtfully. 'I've bored you into oblivion, haven't I?'

'Of course not.' And it was true. 'It's just been a—ah—knackering week.' Which was also true. 'Sorry.'

'Look,' he said, putting down his glass after a few long, awkward seconds and leaning forwards a little. 'How about we cut straight to the chase?'

Bella felt her stomach flutter with trepidation. 'OK,' she said a little warily.

'It's not happening, is it?'

'What isn't?'

'Us.'

She let out the breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. 'I'm afraid not. Do you mind?'

'Not in the slightest.' He smiled. 'There's no…' He paused, as if searching for the right word.

'Zing?' Bella supplied helpfully.

'Quite.' Sam grinned. 'There's no zing, is there?'

'None at all, I'm afraid.'

Plenty of zing between her and Will though. A shiver ran down her spine and desire began to throb in the pit of her stomach. With a superhuman effort, Bella blocked it out and told herself to get a grip. If she was ever going to stand a chance of moving on she had to stop thinking about him.

'Good,' said Sam. 'Well, now that's cleared up, we can enjoy supper without worrying if either of us is going to make a move.'

Beyond relieved, Bella grinned and picked up her menu. 'I couldn't agree more.'

The main thing he'd forgotten about Rosie Green, Will reflected as he helped his date out of her coat and handed it to the ma?tre d', was that while she was beautiful and intelligent, like the wisteria that climbed up the back wall of Hawksley House she had a ferocious tendency to cling.

From the moment he'd picked her up, she'd been hanging on his arm and snuggling up to him, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he had no intention of sitting at the house brooding about his non-date with Bella he'd have made up some sort of excuse and got rid of her.

Quite apart from the fact that he'd been the one to ask her out and so ditching her would have been extremely ungentlemanly, Will decided he'd done enough brooding already.

More than enough, in fact, and he was sick to the back teeth of it.

So Bella hadn't wanted to go on a date with him.

Big deal. He really ought to have got over it by now.

But had he? Not one little bit.

Of course, getting over it would be a hell of a lot easier if he could stop thinking about her.

It would be one thing if she confined herself to haunting him in his dreams, he thought, watching the waiter scoop up a couple of menus then indicating that they should follow him.

He could just about cope with waking up hot and sweating and stiff with desire.

After all, that was what cold showers were for, weren't they?

But did she do the decent thing and stick to his dreams? No, she did not. She wasn't that considerate. She popped into his head all the damn time, seizing control of his body and derailing his train of thought as she wrapped herself around him, shot him smouldering smiles and squirmed against him.

Over the past two days he'd been asked if he was all right more times than he could remember, and it was driving him insane.

'Will, are you OK?'

God. Gritting his teeth and biting back the urge to snap, Will jerked his head round to see Rosie glancing up at him, a tiny frown creasing her forehead.

'Fine,' he muttered as he always did, then plastered a smile to his face and put a hand on her back to propel her after the waiter.

Sooner or later he'd get over it, wouldn't he? Frankly, he had to, because if this tension continued he'd shatter and God only knew what would happen then. Besides the fact remained that he had asked Rosie out and she didn't deserve him to be sitting there all grim and fierce and monosyllabic.

In the vague hope that focusing on the tranquil white walls of the restaurant and the gentle music that oozed from speakers in the ceiling might soothe his poor beleaguered brain, Will let his gaze sweep around the room and with every step felt the tension ease a little.

Until his eyes landed on the couple sitting at the table next to the empty one the waiter was weaving towards.

As recognition slammed into him Will stopped dead and froze and just like that the tension rushed back. The breath shot from his lungs as if he'd been thumped in the solar plexus and the floor tilted beneath his feet.

Bloody hell.

It was Bella. With a man. Laughing and chatting and looking extremely cosy. All hope of tranquillity and peace vanished and his heart began to thud with something he couldn't identify.

The conversation he and Bella had had over the phone slammed into his head. She'd told him she had plans, hadn't she? So was this why she'd cancelled their date? Because she'd had another one?