Page 15

Chapter Eight

O h God, oh God, oh God.

Bella rested her burning forehead against the mirror but it did nothing to cool the heat and the turmoil churning through her body.

Gripping the edge of the vanity unit to stop herself from shaking quite so uncontrollably, she drew back and stared at her reflection.

Her face was as white as the napkin she'd just thrown down, and her eyes looked huge and troubled.

Not that that was any surprise. Tonight was turning out to be the most horrendous night she'd ever had. The whole evening was hurtling out of control and she had no idea how to stop it.

And it was all entirely her own fault.

How could she have thought that asking Sam to pretend to be mad about her, to hang onto her every word and appear to be unable to keep his hands off her was a good idea?

Since when did she play that kind of game?

Shame battered its way into the tangle of emotions racing around inside her, and Bella stifled a groan.

Had she completely lost the plot?

It had seemed like such an excellent plan at the time, when she'd been so wrong-footed and ill at ease. But with hindsight, it was childish and knee-jerkingly stupid.

Releasing her death grip on the edge of the sink, Bella locked her knees and dug around in her handbag for her lip gloss.

Why, oh, why couldn't Sam have told her she was out of her tiny little mind and refused point-blank, instead of glancing over at Will and Rosie, grinning and saying sure, why not?

And why had he had to embrace the role with quite such enthusiasm?

Every time he'd touched her, or even smiled at her, she'd sensed Will's tension level rocket, and had to bite back the urge to snap at Sam to cut it out.

But then Will had started talking about heat and things, and her tension level had shot up and she'd found herself wanting to encourage Sam.

Rosie with her possessive hand planting hadn't helped.

Bella had seen the none-too-subtle movement—and Will's lack of reaction—and it had nearly crucified her.

She would have to be a professor of bloody astrophysics, wouldn't she?

Bella thought glumly, applying a layer of gloss to her lips.

Why couldn't she have been a vacuous model or something?

Why did she have to have legs up to her armpits, a killer figure, a mane of shiny red hair and brains?

God, it wasn't fair.

And actually neither was she, she acknowledged, her hand stilling as she paused and frowned at her reflection.

It wasn't Rosie's fault there was all this tension crashing around, and nor was it Sam's.

In fact if it hadn't been for those two, conversation, at least of the verbal kind, would have been pretty thin on the ground.

Besides, she didn't believe in the fairness—or lack of—of life. She believed you were in charge of your own destiny and made your own choices. So her current predicament was entirely of her making.

However, being aware of that didn't make it any less awful, did it?

she thought as the scene she'd fled flew into her mind and sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling around her stomach.

When Sam had blithely announced that they'd been seeing each other for two weeks she'd seen Will blanch and had known what he'd have thought.

And then his eyes had drilled into hers, demanding an explanation, and, what with the heat and the desire and the confusion churning around inside her, she hadn't been able to stand it any longer.

So here she was. Hiding in the loos and wishing she could stay here for ever because she had the terrifying feeling that sooner or later all this pressure was bound to explode, and she wasn't sure she was prepared to face the consequences.

But what choice did she have?

The bathroom window was far too small to escape through and she really couldn't stay in here for ever. Her only option was to go out and face the music that she'd composed.

Taking a deep breath, Bella dropped her lip gloss back in her bag and ran her wrists under the tap. Then she squared her shoulders and practised a smile until it looked as natural as it ever was going to look, pinched her cheeks and shook her hair back.

There, she told herself. That would have to do. Her insides might be a mess, but at least she looked calm and in control.

All she had to do now was go out, plead a headache and ask Sam to find her a taxi, because she didn't think she could keep up the pretence any longer.

The idea of having to continue with the charade and suffering more of Will's glares and Rosie's sultry smiles made her smile wobble a little, and her head started pounding so fiercely that she realised she wouldn't even have to fake the pain.

Briefly closing her eyes and massaging her temples, Bella straightened her spine, lifted her chin and opened the door.

To find Will leaning against the wall opposite, his hands in his pockets, his eyes dark and impenetrable and his expression grim.

Bella froze, her hand tightening on the door handle and her heart banging against her ribs.

'Will,' she said, as coolly as she could manage.

'Bella.'

'What are you doing here?'

A muscle in his jaw began to pound. 'You know perfectly well.'

Bella felt a shiver scuttle down her spine. 'I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean,' she said, resisting the urge to retreat and slam the door. Because what would that achieve? A closed door to the ladies' loos was hardly an effective deterrent against a man like him.

Will pushed himself off the wall, stalking towards her until he stood in front of her like a dark immovable mountain, his jaw tight and his eyes glittering. 'Two weeks?'

Oh. Her chin jutted up. 'What about it?'

'How about this?' he said, pulling her to one side to let a woman go into the bathroom and planting his hands on the wall either side of her head and wiping out her oxygen. 'Were you or were you not going out with Sam when we had sex on the back seat of my car?'

In an effort to ignore the way her skin of her arms burned from where he'd touched her, the memories ricocheting around her head, and that gorgeous mouth, a mere inch or two from hers, Bella channelled indignation. 'I can't believe you want to discuss this now.'

'What else would we be likely to discuss?' he said, sounding as if he were gritting his teeth. 'The weather?'

Hmm. Perhaps he did have a point. And it was pretty obvious he wasn't planning on letting her go until she explained.

For a second Bella dithered. It was so tempting to shoot him a killer look, say yes, duck beneath one arm and sashay off. That would certainly put an end to everything, wouldn't it? But then what would that make her?

Yet if she said no, she'd have to explain why she and Sam had been all over each other all evening, and that would be one hell of an awkward conversation.

Will's eyes bored into hers as he waited for an answer.

Stifling a sigh, Bella gave in. For all her faults she wasn't a coward. And did she really want Will thinking she was an unfaithful trollop who went round having quickies with any man who came her way? She did not. So awkward conversation it would have to be.

Forcing herself to look him in the eye, Bella straightened her spine. 'No,' she said calmly. 'I wasn't.'

Some of the tension eased from his body and he drew back a little.

'Are you going out with him now?'

'No,' said Bella, feeling as if she could breathe again. 'We only met this evening.'

'So why have you spent the last twenty minutes letting me think you were?'

She shrugged and studied the huge abstract painting on the wall behind him. 'It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

He frowned. 'Why?'

'I'm not sure.'

'Well, work it out,' he snapped.

Bella jumped and her hackles shot up. Did he really imagine that she was going to divulge the jealousy, the frustration, the longing that had made her ask Sam to pretend to be involved with her?

Or the constant pummelling disappointment that with his issues with commitment Will would never be the right man for her? No chance.

'Anyone would think you're jealous,' she said, deciding that attack was the best way to deal with that particular problem, and giving him a mocking little smile.

For a second there was silence. Then Will sprang back and raked his hands through his hair, his eyes blazing.

'Of course I'm bloody jealous,' he said, so fiercely that Bella gasped.

'Two days ago you were writhing on top of me and now you're out for dinner the evening we were supposed to be going out wrapped around another man. '

'You're not exactly sitting at home pining,' she shot back, unable to keep an odd trace of hurt out of her voice at the thought of the beautiful Rosie and where she'd had her hand.

'Now who's the one sounding jealous?'

'I'm not jealous,' she said. 'Just pointing out the facts.'

Will let out a sharp hollow laugh. 'Oh, give up the games, Bella.'

Bella bristled and battled back a wince of shame because shame had no place in this conversation. 'What games? If anyone's playing games, it's you, Will. You started this when you decided to come over and say hello and then embarked on a two-tiered conversation.'

'No. You started this when you cancelled our date for no apparent reason.'

'I had my reasons,' she said, glaring at him.

'Which are?'

Bella set her jaw. 'Never mind.'

Will swore beneath his breath. 'Don't you think you owe me an explanation?'

She folded her arms over her chest and stuck her chin up. 'No.'

Will took a step back and clenched his fists as if to stop himself from shaking her and for a moment they bristled at each other in silence.

The door opened and Bella jumped. The woman who'd gone in earlier came out, glanced at each of them in turn, avid curiosity spread all over her face, and then darted off as if worried she might catch some of the fraught tension swirling around the place.