His attention was fixed on the road, and he didn’t give any indication that he was listening to me.

  I decided to keep talking to try to thaw his frost. “I’ve never actually been to Penzance, but I’ve seen pictures. It looks so pretty, almost more French than British, or well, I guess it has its own unique aesthetic. Wow, this is such a great coastal drive, don’t you think?”

  He only nodded in response.

  I folded my arms and gave up. Something was clearly going on with him, but he didn’t want to talk. About twenty minutes passed before I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached out and touched his forearm.

  “Please don’t touch me,” he grunted, and the way he visibly flinched really hurt my feelings.

  My throat tightened. “Did I do something to offend you?”

  His jaw worked, and I watched as he underwent some kind of internal struggle. Then, quite abruptly, he pulled the car over to the side of the quiet coastal road we were on. There was a small viewpoint where you could park and take in the scenery. I swallowed, expecting him to let rip whatever grievance he had, but that didn’t happen.

  Without a word Cameron released both our seat belts then grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. His lips seized mine in a hungry, feral kiss, and I gasped in shock.

  A second ago he asks me not to touch him, then he lays a kiss like this on me?

  His hands trailed from my shoulders and down my back before resting at the base of my spine. He gripped my hips and groaned into the kiss before pulling me so that I was closer. I rested my hands against his chest, still slightly taken off guard by this random shift. I felt his pulse pounding through his shirt, so warm and alive, and my heart beat sharply in time with his. I was turned on and confused and my feelings for him were way too fragile right then. Sometimes I just didn’t know where I stood with him. It felt like I’d be waiting my whole life for him to reassure me and tell me everything was okay with us.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I breathed, breaking our kiss.

  He brought his hand up to caress my cheek, focusing on my mouth before his eyes rose to meet mine. I saw raw vulnerability, and it made every part of me want to make whatever was upsetting him better.

  “Today was Mum’s birthday,” he said finally, and silence fell.

  Cameron lost his mum when he was so little, and in such a horrific way. This date was obviously a hard time for him. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have to live through it every single year. I stroked his hair away from his face and stared at him sadly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “She would’ve been sixty.”

  I saw that it took great effort for him to talk about her. It was hard enough when your parent died, but Cameron had only been a small child. He’d been locked in a room while some thugs killed his mother in their own house. A traumatic experience like that was something I wasn’t sure anyone ever got over. It would always be there in the back of your mind, casting a shadow over parts of your life you didn’t even realise it could touch.

  “I thought going on this road trip would take my mind off it, but nothing ever does,” he said grimly.

  “It’s only natural,” I said, my voice gentle as I continued to stroke his hair.

  His breath fanned across my neck. I felt the steady beat of his pulse, the soft cotton of his shirt. He had beautiful eyes. This close I could see every dark lash, every speckle of gold and green in his hazel irises.

  “For years my dad lied about what really happened to her,” he revealed, speaking quietly. He sank into my touch, like it soothed something deep inside of him. It felt good to be able to comfort him, even in this small way. I remember something he’d said to me a while ago.

  I’ve been lied to in the past and it didn’t turn out well for anyone involved.

  Was he talking about his dad? I’d been so curious about the statement at the time, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking him what had happened.

  “He couldn’t bring himself to tell us the truth since we were so young,” Cameron went on. “And then as we grew older it got harder and harder to admit he’d lied. Nick wasn’t there that day, and Ellen was just a baby. My memories were hazy. I knew something terrible had happened, but I was too young to fully comprehend it, or understand why I felt so confused about everything. Dad told us Mum died in a car accident, and as kids we didn’t question it. You just accept your reality at that age, you know? It was only about two years ago that Dad finally summoned up the courage to tell us what really happened.”

  “Wow, that’s…I don’t even know what to say,” I whispered and pulled him into a hug.

  “I was so angry when he told us. I think I still am. It’s tough. I try my best to forgive him, but I’ve always had a hard time letting go of anger. Mum’s death affected us in different ways. Nick has this inability to commit to things, and Ellen, she’s gotten a lot better since Dad finally told us the truth, but for years she lived like a hermit. She’d stay indoors writing books instead of going out into the real world. And I, well, I guess you know better than most how difficult I can be.”

  I couldn’t believe he was opening up to me like this, that he felt comfortable enough to talk about his feelings. It felt like a big deal.

  “I kind of like how difficult you are,” I whispered affectionately. It was true. In spite of how hard it was to get to know him at first, it was also rewarding when I finally broke past his shell. Every little piece of himself that he shared felt like a triumph.

  He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his arms tightening around my waist while I wrapped mine around his shoulders. We stayed like that for a long time. He inhaled deeply, like he was breathing me in, and tingles skittered all the way down my spine. I struggled to find the right words, to say something deep and profound that might make him feel better, but no words came.

  In the end, I didn’t need them, because just holding him seemed like enough. Cameron’s posture relaxed, his tension melting away. He nuzzled his nose into my neck, and my skin tightened with goose bumps. Desire was like a coiled spring inside me, just waiting to be unleashed. My feelings for him expanded and grew exponentially. They grew in a way that felt out of my control and that scared me.

  Cameron pressed a kiss to the underside of my jaw, and I sighed. I wanted to capture his lips with mine, kiss him until all his worries melted away, but we needed to get back on the road if we still wanted to make our visit with Ian Riddell.

  I pulled away, my arms still around his neck as I mustered a smile. “I have a plan.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “After we talk with Ian Riddell, we should go and get the biggest ice cream sundaes we can find then go paddling on the beach. Ice cream and the beach makes everything exponentially better.”

  Cameron’s mouth curved slightly. “Isn’t it a little cold out for ice cream?”

  “It’s never too cold for ice cream,” I argued and poked him in the stomach.

  He chuckled low, and I tried not to fixate on how nice his stomach felt. My triumph at soliciting a single positive reaction from him was ridiculous. It was like shooting stars zipping over my head, fireworks going off inside my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.

  “You are relentlessly cheerful,” he said, like it both confounded and amazed him.

  “And you’re relentlessly grumpy. We’re a match made in heaven. At the very least we cancel each other out.”

  He gave me one of his elusive almost smiles. I climbed off his lap and returned to my seat, noticing how his eyes followed my hands while I fixed the skirt of my dress back down. Cameron saw I’d caught him looking, and his cheeks coloured as he cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

  “I apologise for grabbing you like that. It was ungentlemanly.”

  I shot him a playful look. “I kind of like it when you’re ungentlemanly with me.”

  This seemed to only embarrass him further, his brows furrowing, his shoulders rigid. I chuckled to myself, and he diligently ignored me as he got us back on the road.

  It was official. He could fight against it all he wanted, but I was going to make Cameron Grant have some fun today whether he liked it or not.

  ***

  When we arrived in Penzance, we grabbed a quick bite to eat before going to meet Ian Riddell. He lived in a small terraced house close to the harbour, in a very picturesque part of town. It was like something out of a storybook, or a period novel. So peaceful and quaint.

  We knocked on his door, and a young woman answered, his granddaughter it turned out. Her name was Rebecca, and she led us into a small living room where an elderly gentleman sat in an armchair. I took a seat on the couch, and Cameron sat down next to me.

  “Granddad, this is Cameron and Maisie, the private investigators who wanted to talk with you,” Rebecca said while Ian took us in.

  “Hello,” he greeted, reaching across the coffee table to shake our hands. There was a sparkle in his eyes that told me he was still sharp despite his old age.

  “I’ll go make some tea,” Rebecca said before leaving us alone.

  “I have to say it’s a treat to have visitors,” Ian said. “And private investigators at that! I’m very intrigued by what you could want to learn from an old codger like me.”

  “We’re here to talk about Riddell Ink, your old publishing house,” Cameron said.

  “Oh, what would you like to know? We shut down in ’03 when I retired. It had always been a small niche press, and there wasn’t anyone to take over after I left so…”

  “We actually wanted to know if you remember a book you published in the late nineties called Butterfly Quest by Edward Harrington? It was an armchair treasure hunt, but the book was pulled shortly after publication.”

  Ian’s expression clouded. “Do you know, nobody’s ever come to ask me about that book before. I suppose that’s the benefit of being a small publisher that most people haven’t heard of. When scandals arise, they’re easily brushed under the carpet.”

  “Do you mind if we ask what the scandal was?” I questioned, hoping he didn’t decline to answer and ask us to leave.

  Ian grew quiet, introspective. His expression was serious when he enquired, “What exactly are you looking into?”

  “Harrington has ties to an ongoing investigation of ours,” Cameron replied. “We’re trying to learn more about his past, if by chance there was a criminal element.”

  Ian grew quiet again. Rebecca returned with a tray and placed it down before pouring us each a cup of tea. She perched on the edge of Ian’s armchair and took a sip from her own cup, completely unaware of the sudden tension.

  “Edward Harrington was a very clever man,” Ian finally spoke. “I was excited to publish his first book. The treasure hunt was actually quite ingenious, but unfortunately I discovered that the prize he had designed, an ornate twenty-four karat gold, jewel-encrusted butterfly broach, contained conflict diamonds from Angola. It was around this time that the UN was imposing a series of sanctions against the trade of blood diamonds, so I wanted no part in whatever Harrington was involved in.”

  My eyes widened as Cameron and I shared a surprised look. Given his edginess when we’d asked about the book, I hadn’t expected Ian to tell us what happened. Before now I’d thought the scandal might be to do with Harrington’s private life, or his connection to shady characters like Roy Voss. I didn’t think it would be the treasure hunt itself. I mean, the whole thing just seemed so wholesome and family-friendly. The book Cameron showed me in his office looked exactly like a children’s picture book.

  Who knew something so dark could lie behind something that on the surface seemed so innocent?

  “We lost a lot of money when we pulled the book, but I couldn’t in good conscience distribute something that contributed to the deaths of innocent people halfway across the world,” Ian went on.

  “Did you ever report Harrington to the police?” Cameron asked.

  Ian shook his head. “When I confronted him about the diamonds and told him we were pulling the book, he threatened to hurt my family if I went to the police. That same day he had a gang of thugs thrash my house, I presume to show me he meant business. It was at that point I realised Edward had ties with people I didn’t want in my life. I was too frightened to go to the police in case they really did try to hurt my family.”

  At this, tears rose in his eyes, and Rebecca leaned over to comfort him. “Oh Granddad, I can’t believe that happened to you.”

  “If this is too upsetting to talk about, we can leave,” I said in a gentle voice.

  Ian pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab his eyes. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s just a bad memory I don’t like to relive. Please stay and finish your tea.”

  I picked up my teacup and took a sip, mind reeling. So this wasn’t a recent thing. Harrington had been tied up in criminality for a long time.

  I looked at Cameron again, and I suspected he was thinking the same thing. This side investigation wasn’t just some fun little hobby anymore. It was serious business.

  I started to wonder if maybe we’d bitten off more than we could chew.

  Fifteen

  The Sleepover

  February 2nd – 3rd

  Cameron and I walked along the beach, both of us quiet. We’d just left Ian Riddell’s house, and neither of us quite knew what to make of what he’d revealed. There were a few families on the beach, and some people walking their dogs. The sound of the waves gently met the shore, mingling with the caw of sea gulls and the laughter of small children playing a game of chase on the sand.

  “Do you think Harrington’s selling conflict diamonds in his store?” I asked, breaking the quiet.

  “It’s a possibility,” Cameron replied, his face drawn in thought. “But if he is, how has he gotten away with it for so long? If what Ian told us is true, then Harrington’s been in the blood diamond business for twenty years, if not longer.”

  “Are blood diamonds still prevalent? I thought they clamped down on all that years ago.”

  “The sale of them has been reduced, I think, but yes, they’re still a thing. I’ll have to do some research.”

  “I can ask Damien to look into it for us,” I offered,

  Cameron’s expression darkened. “No. This isn’t official James & Peterson business. We’ll figure this out on our own.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was frowning because of the unorthodox nature of our investigation or because he still thought Damien had a thing for me.

  “And if it turns out he’s selling illegal jewels, what then?”

  “We’ll report him to the police,” Cameron answered simply.

  “Aren’t you forgetting the threats that were made to Ian when he pulled Harrington’s book? And what about the man who beat up Christina? There’s also Jamie, the store clerk with the black eye. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get more involved in all this.”

  Cameron stopped walking and came to stand in front of me. “You think I’d let anyone hurt you?”

  I swallowed, goose bumps on my arms from the way he looked at me. “No, but you’re not with me twenty-four seven, Cameron. They broke into the flat Christina was staying in, for God’s sake.”

  His expression darkened further, and I felt like I’d put my foot in it. Home invaders had killed Cameron’s mother whose birthday was today, and now I was talking about the same thing happening to one of us. I felt like such an idiot for not thinking before I spoke.

  Reaching out, I touched his upper arm, my voice gentle. “Sorry. That was the wrong thing to say.”

  Cameron exhaled, his chest deflating as he levelled his eyes on me. “If anything happened to you, Maisie, if anyone tried to hurt you, I don’t know what I’d do.” The sincerity of his words stole my breath, the way his entire face changed when he said them.

  I ran my hand down his arm, then laced my fingers with his. “Hey, why don’t we take a break from all this Harrington business. It’s Saturday and we’re in this lovely little town. Let’s take a few hours and just…enjoy each other’s company,” I suggested shyly.

  “What do you have in mind?” he asked, the edge to his voice gone as he moved closer, pushing my hair over my shoulder.

  Savouring his touch, I smiled wide. “First on the agenda: ice cream sundaes. After that, who knows.”

  There was a hint of playfulness about him when he replied, “I like the sound of that.”

  ***

  I opted for chocolate ice cream with sprinkles and caramel-covered pecans. Cameron asked for plain vanilla, but I forced him to try it with a little bit of chocolate sauce. He finally relented and admitted it was a good choice.

  “You see,” I said as we left the ice cream parlour to take a stroll down the street. “Sometimes you have to explore a little, discover new flavours. There’s more to life than vanilla.”

  His eyes took on a flirtatious glint as he moved closer. “Oh? Like how?”

  “Like,” I began, thinking about it, “when you pat a strange dog and see how happy it makes him. The dog could have fleas, but you just take the chance because that shared human-dog moment is the purest kind of exchange.”

  “Am I the strange dog in this scenario?”

  I laughed. “No, silly. You’re the one petting him. I mean, you might be strange,” I went on, playfully waggling my eyebrows, “but you’re no dog.”

  Cameron shook his head. “You’re such a goof.”

  “Yes, yes I am. A goof and proud.”

  We sat down on a nearby bench, quietly eating for a moment. Our shoulders touched, but neither of us tried to move away. My thigh rested against his, and it felt electric to be this close to him, yet so very natural, too.

  I nudged him with my elbow, amusing myself when I asked, “Do you know what sort of ice cream pigs like best?”

  “I don’t,” he replied absently as he watched people pass us by on the street.