Feeling an idiotic grin spreading across her face, Bella clicked on the first link and began to read.
One hour, a bowl of vegetable soup and another glass of wine late
r, Bella was no longer grinning.
Her research had started off so well. She’d found out that Will lived and worked in the Cayman Islands, which no doubt accounted for the tan.
She’d discovered he owned a vast estate over there and liked to windsurf and scuba-dive, which no doubt accounted for the lean muscled body.
She’d learned that he was some sort of genius with figures and derivatives, and she’d had a crash course in day trading.
She’d learned that his family could trace its roots back to King John, and that even without the dukedom he was a billionaire.
She’d learned his mother had died of a stroke when he was twenty-three, and he’d emigrated shortly afterwards.
And then she’d discovered something else. Something that had wiped the smile from her face and was the cause of the disappointment crashing through her.
Will dated. A lot.
According to the articles she’d trawled through and the photos she’d pored over, he rarely saw the same woman more than half a dozen times. In one interview dating from only a month ago, he’d been asked whether he was on the lookout for a duchess and he’d said no. ‘Emphatically’ apparently. When the interviewer had mentioned the Hawksley Collection and asked about love he’d said he didn’t believe in it.
Bella rubbed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Wasn’t that typical?
Will Cameron might be hotter than the Sahara in summer and he might have given her the best orgasm of her life, but for whatever reason he was a commitment-phobe. And therefore no good for her whatsoever.
Resisting the urge to drown her sorrows in the rest of the bottle of wine, Bella got up and went in search of her phone. That little voice inside her head yelling, ‘Who cares?’ could protest all it liked. She wasn’t listening. Because she’d had enough of Mr Right Now. She was looking for Mr Right and, despite her hopes to the contrary, Will Cameron was Mr Wrong In Every Way.
CHAPTER SIX
IF HE’D thought his conversation with his aunt at the bank had been odd, thought Will, sitting in the library at Hawksley House, nursing a glass of whisky and staring broodingly into the fire, it had been nothing compared to the way in which the rest of the day had turned out.
Today was, without exception, the strangest, most surreal day he’d ever experienced and he wasn’t sure he wanted to experience a day like it ever again. He’d had enough mind-boggling revelations and gut-churning trips down memory lane to last a lifetime. And as for the tangled financial mess his aunt had created, well, that had taken hours to unravel. God only knew what sort of trouble she could have ended up in if he hadn’t found out what she’d been up to.
Aware that his hand had tightened around the glass, Will set it on a side table before it shattered and rubbed a hand over his face.
And somewhere muddled up in it all there was Bella.
When he’d woken up this morning he’d never in a million years have imagined that she would have slammed into his life. But she had. Like a tornado, whipping around, lifting everything up, churning it around and then dropping it back down in a chaotic jumble. She’d been unexpected. Unbelievable. And as sexy as hell.
If his body weren’t still throbbing with the after-effects of the mind-blowing interlude on the back seat of his car he’d never have believed it had happened. But the ever present image of her writhing on top of him, rocking back and forth, biting on her lip and moaning told him it had been all too real. He might not wish to experience a day like today ever again, but he had every intention of experiencing her again.
Will ground his teeth and tried to drag his aching body back under control.
How in God’s name was he going to be able to wait until Saturday? In fact why was he waiting until Saturday? Why on earth wasn’t he taking her out for dinner tomorrow? So he’d arranged to have a drink with Alex, but he could easily postpone it. He was pretty sure that Alex, himself totally besotted with his fiancée, would understand. There was no need to suffer this agony any longer than was necessary.
He levered himself to his feet to retrieve his phone from his desk where he’d emptied his pockets earlier and then stopped, frowned and fell back down, his blood turning to ice.
What on earth did he think he was doing?
Since when had he contemplated ditching a friend for a woman? And since when had he brought forward a date because he couldn’t wait? Where had his self-control gone? And more disturbingly, where had the idea that he might be besotted with Bella come from? He couldn’t be besotted with her. He’d only just met her. Besides he didn’t get besotted. Ever.
Will let out a growl of frustration. He’d wait until Saturday because he had to. Because that was the plan. Because he wasn’t besotted. And because he had gallons of self-control. Somewhere.
The sound of his mobile ringing jerked him out of his thoughts and he jumped to his feet and snatched it up before he could analyse the sharp stab of hope that it might be Alex cancelling. ‘Hello?’
‘Will?’
At the sound of Bella’s voice on the other end of the line, Will’s pulse leapt and his blood began to simmer as the desire gripping his insides intensified.