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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.

      ‘So?’

      Biting back the urge to snap that it was none of her business, Will schooled his features and forced himself to remain calm. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘In that respect none of it’s mine.’

      But it was hard to stay calm when all of a sudden his stomach was churning and his head was pounding.

      It was hard to stay calm when he knew that the collection was built on a pack of lies and that the legendary status it had acquired was completely undeserved.

      It was even harder to stay calm when he had to live with the constant knowledge that he ought to have contributed to that ninety per cent. Just once.

      Before he had time to brace himself, memories of Tania slammed into his head and a steel band tightened around his chest crushing the breath from his lungs.

      As clearly as if it had happened yesterday, he could see the look of devastation on his ex-girlfriend’s face when, racked with guilt, he’d admitted he’d been unfaithful. He could still remember the tears, the recriminations, the pain he’d caused. And he was still, years later, plagued by guilt, despite her subsequent forgiveness and her acknowledgement that he hadn’t been wholly to blame.

      ‘Maybe you simply haven’t met the right woman yet.’

      Setting his jaw and pushing the memories aside, Will dragged himself out of the past. Not met the right woman? His gut twisted. With any luck he never would. Because there’d be no relationships for him. Ever. No marriage. No children. No family. No danger of wrecking any more lives, the way his ancestors had. The way he had. He simply couldn’t risk it.

      ‘Maybe not,’ he said coolly, ruthlessly obliterating the pang of regret that jabbed at his soul and pulling himself together.

      ‘Anyway,’ said Bella as she pushed her chair back and stood up, ‘what are you going to do?’

      Good question. ‘Put it all back in the safe while I decide,’ he said, wishing that the whole damn collection could be forgotten about.

      She sighed and began packing her kit away. ‘It’s such a shame,’ she said, shaking her head a little. ‘Practically criminal.’

      There it was again, he thought, his attention zooming in on her face as much as her voice. The wistfulness. The longing. The hope. The same things he’d seen and heard when he’d first handed her his mother’s ring, and had chosen to ignore.

      But he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

      It was blindingly obvious to anyone who bothered to take a look that Bella was a romantic. She designed jewellery for a living and, according to Alex, specialised in engagement rings. Which meant she believed in for ever. As he very definitely couldn’t believe in for ever, whether he wanted to or not, Bella was out of bounds.

      Up until now, Will had obviously been blind. Bamboozled by unusually intense chemistry and at the complete mercy of certain parts of his body. Well, not any more, he thought, rubbing a hand over his face and watching her zip up her case. Now he was looking. And coming to the depressing realisation that all that latent heat bubbling inside her would have to be tapped by someone else, because he never got involved with women who wanted more than he’d ever be able to give.

      Ignoring the stab of disappointment that struck him in the chest, Will stifled a sigh and got to his feet. He stalked round the table, plucked her coat off the back of her chair, held it open for her and squared his jaw.

      His mind was made up.

      Regret was pointless.

      They were done.

      * * *

      So that was that, thought Bella, sliding her arms into the sleeves of her coat and forcing herself not to shiver when Will’s fingers brushed the back of her neck. Watching him march back to gather up his laptop, she freed her hair from the collar of her coat and gave it, and herself, a quick shake.

      And why wouldn’t it be? Their business was concluded, and no doubt he had other pressing things to be getting on with. She certainly did.

      Fastening the buttons, Bella stamped down on the disappointment darting through her and told herself not to be so ridiculous. She had no reason to feel as deflated as a month-old balloon by the knowledge that Will didn’t want to prolong their encounter, like by suggesting dinner or something. Just because it was that time of day and she had been working flat out on his behalf all afternoon he was under no obligation to feed her, was he?

      No. And even if he were, she reminded herself as she knotted the belt, she’d have declined, wouldn’t she?

      Because the way Will had clammed up and gone all tense when she’d tentatively probed him about whether any of the jewellery was his told her that he had issues, and while she might be in the market for a man—and was perfectly well aware that no one got to her age without some kind of baggage—on balance she’d prefer one without too much. Will, she sensed, had trolleyfuls of the stuff.

      ‘Right,’ she said, picking up her case and flashing him a cool little smile. ‘Well, I’ll be off, then.’

      ‘Be sure to send me your bill,’ he said, looking and sounding as if he’d already left, in spirit if not in body.

      ‘I will.’ She nodded. ‘Email or post?’

      Will shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. Whichever you—’

      But whatever he had been going to say—and ‘prefer’ seemed probable—remained unsaid because he tailed off, his gaze sliding away from hers and fixing on something over her shoulder.

      Intrigued by the taut stillness that had gripped his broad frame and the tightening of his jaw, she turned. To see a woman hovering at the gate of the vault.

      How old she was Bella couldn’t tell. Her forehead was suspiciously wrinkle-free and her hands were encased in gloves. Her blonde hair was swept up and diamonds twinkled in her ear lobes. Wrapped in a cream knee-length coat and shod in beautiful brown crocodile-skin heels, she had a timeless elegance that Bella couldn’t help but envy.

      Whoever she was, however, Bella guessed that she hadn’t been expecting company, not if the way her face was paling and her mouth was opening was any indication. In fact, Bella was pretty sure that had they been able to her eyes would be widening and her eyebrows would be shooting up.

      But before she could analyse the woman’s facial movements—or lack of—any further, she’d regained her composure and glided into the vault.

      ‘Will,’ she said, lifting her chin and bestowing a regal smile on each of them in turn.

      Bella glanced at Will, whose expression was as unreadable as the blonde’s, although she imagined for entirely different reasons. ‘Caroline,’ he said. ‘This is a surprise.’

      His voice was agreeable enough, but Bella thought she could detect a hint of steel, and her stomach fluttered with something that felt strangely like a thrill.

      ‘It is,’ said Caroline, clasping her hands together. ‘I—ah—didn’t expect to see you here.’

      ‘Likewise.’ He crossed his

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