He glanced at me, then back to the road. “What does that make me?”

  I thought on it a second. “Dark and a little foreboding?”

  His lips twitched. “Not sleek and powerful?”

  I laughed. “Maybe that, too.”

  A pregnant silence fell. Why had I agreed with him? I needed to get the hell out of this car. I scrambled through my head for something to say, then blurted, “Not wearing the wedding ring today?”

  He glanced at his left hand, then back at the road. “No, not today. It would defeat the purpose.”

  “Of?”

  “You and I pretending to be a newly engaged couple shopping for rings. Claire worked part-time at a jewellery store in town called Trinkets & Treasures. I was thinking we could try to get the unofficial story about her from some of her co-workers. The one they didn’t tell the police.”

  He wanted us to pretend to be engaged? The idea shouldn’t have sent my belly aflutter like it did, especially since I’d resolved to put what happened at the party behind us. “That’s, um, smart, I guess. But why do you think there’s an unofficial story?”

  Cameron turned the steering wheel, and we rounded a corner. “The day before Claire disappeared, Trinkets & Treasures closed abruptly at eleven a.m. They normally stay open until seven p.m. The police didn’t know about the early closing, so they never questioned anyone there as to the reason. Something happened that day, and I want to know what. I also want to know why they didn’t mention it to the police.”

  “Very interesting. Good detective work.”

  “I know the guy who does security for the bank across the street. He let me take a look at their cameras, which is how I saw the store being closed.” He paused to eye me. “How are your acting skills?”

  “They’re okay. I’m pretty sure I can pull off a fiancée eager to get her hands on the most expensive ring going.”

  “Just remember we won’t actually be buying anything.”

  I smiled deviously just to annoy him and thought again on the fake ring he sometimes wore. “By the way, just out of curiosity, what kind of people trust married men more than single ones?”

  Cameron didn’t miss a beat. “Married women. Little old ladies. Members of the yacht club. They perceive me as a family man, someone reliable, part of the community.”

  “Huh.”

  He considered me a moment, taking me off guard when he asked, “Who cheated on you?”

  “What?”

  “Yesterday, you mentioned you’d been cheated on by a previous partner.”

  I winced. “Right. I did mention that, didn’t I?” Why the hell had I told him that? I needed to start taking lessons in how to keep my mouth shut.

  Cameron appeared to still be waiting for an answer, so I said, “Before I moved here, I had a long-term partner back in Barnstaple. After a few years, I started to wonder why he never proposed. When he began working late, I suspected he was having an affair. I followed him one day and discovered he was cheating.” I paused, thinking I should just leave it at that, but something compelled me to continue.

  Some deeper part of me wanted Cameron to know, to understand exactly why I was so upset when I wrongly thought he was married.

  “The person he was cheating with was a man. My partner of four years was gay, and I didn’t even realise it.” I gave a humourless laugh. “I’d been so completely blind.”

  Cameron was quiet a moment, and I wished he’d say something. It was the worst when you revealed a personal, painful experience and then the other person just said nothing.

  “Sometimes it’s hardest to see things that are right in front of you,” he said finally. “When your face is pressed against the window, you can’t see the glass.”

  I gave a joyless laugh. “Yeah, that was me. Face pressed so hard against the window I couldn’t even see the window.”

  Cameron gave me a funny look at my odd comparison and pulled the car to a stop just down the street from the jewellery store. We walked side by side, but as we entered, he took my hand, linking his fingers through mine. Our palms met. My skin tingled, but I tried not to read too much into it. We were working, nothing more. When I looked at him, his eyes said, play along.

  He’s so handsome.

  The thought entered my head unbidden. It was just so hard to look past how gorgeous he was now that he was acting a little more human. Back in the car, he’d tried to get to know me. When I’d been down on myself, he’d almost been kind.

  So yeah, I was noticing stuff about him a lot more than I might’ve if he were glowering at me and criticising my work.

  I glanced at a display of necklaces and bracelets, all of them with various snowflake charms, a December theme. “Those are pretty,” I commented absently as Cameron led me through the store.

  “We’re not here for you to shop for baubles,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. A week ago, I wouldn’t have believed Cameron had the ability to be playful.

  We stopped at a glass case filled with sparkling engagement rings. He moved closer now, bending to purr in my ear, “What do you think, darling?”

  Just like that, he was acting his part. And yes, you heard right, Cameron Grant just purred at me. My vagina immediately woke up. I told her to go back to sleep and endeavoured to form a response. “That one’s nice,” I replied, pointing out a white-gold ring with a round-cut diamond.

  “You deserve better than just nice,” he said with a tsk, and that seemed to be the mating call for jewellery store assistants everywhere.

  A young man in a crisp white shirt immediately appeared in front of us. “May I help you with anything?” he asked with a friendly smile. The word “commission” might as well have been stamped across his forehead.

  “Yes, we’re looking for something very special. A ring that makes a statement. Money is no object,” Cameron replied, letting go of my hand to wrap his arm around my waist.

  My heart momentarily lost the run of itself. I felt his warmth at my side, smelled his crisp cologne that evoked visions of the sea. It made my mind go to all sorts of interesting places.

  “Well, might I show you our signature collection,” the assistant said, guiding us over to the next display cabinet. His name tag read Jamie. The rings he showed us looked even more expensive than the last ones.

  “Ah yes, your signature collection,” Cameron said. “I wanted to come look at it several weeks ago, but the store was closed mid-morning, which I thought strange. I’ve been travelling for work, so I haven’t had a chance to come back.”

  “Right. That must’ve been the day the store owner Mr. Harrington had us close down early. There was an emergency at home.”

  “Oh no, I hope nothing too serious,” I said.

  “His wife was ill, but I think she’s better now.”

  “And he closed down the entire store?” Cameron questioned. “Seems like he could’ve let his employees run the place while he tended to his wife.”

  “Mr. Harrington likes to be present during opening hours. We have a lot of very expensive items, but we’re only a small store, so we don’t have any security guards.”

  “Has there ever been a robbery?” I asked, feigning concern.

  “Not for as long as I’ve worked here.”

  “Is Mr. Harrington around today?” Cameron queried.

  “Yes, he’s just out back in his office.”

  “Do you think he’d mind showing us the collection? I presume he procured these pieces himself. I’d like to hear his personal thoughts on each ring.”

  “I could certainly speak to him and arrange for that. Please wait here and I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as he was gone, I turned to Cameron. “Okay, what are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking something went on with Mr. Harrington that day, and it wasn’t his wife’s illness. He wouldn’t have closed the entire store just for something like that. If there’s a robbery, he has insurance. Plus, there are security cameras all over this place.”

  “Do you think closing had something to do with Claire?”

  “Considering the timing, I’d be surprised if it didn’t. We could try to get our hands on the security footage but…” Cameron trailed off as an older gentleman approached. He looked to be in his fifties, with a distinguished salt-and-pepper beard, a sharp suit, and a thick head of hair. For some reason, I’d been expecting a little old man with glasses, but Mr. Harrington was very attractive for his age.

  “Hello,” he said, greeting us with a friendly smile.

  “Hello,” I replied. “We’re shopping for an engagement ring.” I noticed how Cameron’s hold on me tightened as he pulled me closer to his side. Great, now I had tingles again.

  “Congratulations. You have a very pretty fiancée,” said Mr. Harrington to Cameron.

  I couldn’t help smiling at the compliment. Hey, it wasn’t every day a silver fox called you pretty.

  “What style is your preference?” he went on.

  “I really like the target rings,” I said, pointing out a vintage-looking piece. It looked like the sort of ring that possessed the wearer with the spirit of the dead widow who wore it a hundred years ago. But it was pricey enough to get both Mr. Harrington and his assistant Jamie salivating.

  “That is a very special piece indeed. It’s an Art Deco style platinum ring with a single transitional cut diamond in the centre, surrounded by a row of tapered emerald-cut diamonds and an outer row of small brilliant-cut diamonds.”

  “It’s very beautiful,” I said, allowing him to slide the ring on my finger. I feigned admiration, turning my hand from side to side, then glanced at Cameron. “What do you think, honey?”

  “If you love it, I love it,” he replied, looking back to the display. “Are there some pieces missing from the collection?” he asked, gesturing to two empty spots.

  “Yes, those two have already been sold, unfortunately,” Mr. Harrington replied.

  Jamie peered over his boss’s shoulder, looking confused. “I don’t remember the pink sapphires being sold.”

  Mr. Harrington glanced at him somewhat coolly. “It was a private sale,” he said, his voice stiff.

  “Oh,” said Jamie, seeming to realise he’d made a mistake and clearly wondering what exactly he’d done to irritate his boss. I wondered too. The debonair Mr. Harrington momentarily lost his suave confidence and it seemed odd. What was he trying to hide?

  “Pink sapphires are some of the most expensive stones, aren’t they?” Cameron asked. “Or is that yellow? I can never remember.”

  “They are very rare, yes, but the rarest are red, followed by blue and then pink.”

  “Ah, I see. By the way, I hope your wife is feeling better. Your assistant mentioned she’d been ill.”

  Mr. Harrington cast Jamie yet another censorious look before he smiled politely at Cameron. “She had a little bit of a health scare, but she’s recovered quite well.”

  I noticed he eyed Cameron with a hint of suspicion now. He was asking too many questions.

  “Do you mind if we go home and think on it awhile?” I asked. “I don’t want to rush into any big decisions just yet.”

  “Well, I can’t guarantee the ring will still be here when you return,” he replied, going for the hard sell. “Unless you’d like to put down a deposit?”

  “We’ll just have to take the chance,” Cameron said, guiding me away. “Thank you for all your help.”

  As we returned to the car, my mind raced.

  “Mr. Harrington was definitely hiding something,” Cameron said as I strapped myself into the passenger seat.

  I nodded in agreement. “I got that vibe, too. But what?”

  Cameron furrowed his brow, thinking about it. “Maybe Claire made it away with those rings. They were probably two of the most expensive in the store.”

  “If she stole them, why didn’t Harrington report the theft to the police?” I questioned.

  “She might’ve blackmailed him. She could have some dirt on him that he doesn’t want to get out,” he suggested.

  “Seems plausible. But what’s the dirt?”

  “An affair? Dead body buried in his back garden?”

  “Or they could’ve been in on the theft together,” I said, just thinking out loud. “No, that can’t be it. Why would he steal from himself?” I paused to shoot him a grin. “I bet the answer will occur to us when we least expect it. I get all my best theories while I’m in the shower.”

  Cameron glanced at me a moment, and for a second I felt like he was picturing me in said shower. Naked. Water running down my body. The door opens and in walks…

  No.

  No.

  Cameron looked away, like maybe he was trying to chase away some errant thoughts of his own. “That’s because your mind is free to roam when you’re completing tasks on autopilot.”

  “Yes, makes sense,” I said, a slight croak in my voice. It was admittedly weird to sit here with him and act like we hadn’t had sex.

  “You were good in there, by the way,” he said as he put the car in gear. Two compliments in one day? Had I entered the Twilight Zone?

  “Thank you.” I glanced at the clock on the dashboard, noticing it was just past midday. My stomach made a thankfully soundless grumble and I realised how hungry I was. I hadn’t had my usual mid-morning snack with Lilah.

  “Do you want to go grab lunch somewhere before we head back?” I asked.

  I realised my error when it took a beat longer than normal for him to reply. Staring straight ahead, he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Well crap, he thought I was asking him out on some kind of lunch date, and after I’d made such a big deal of us agreeing to forget we’d spent the night together.

  Embarrassment crept in. I had a habit of putting my foot in it like this, but I knew there was no point insisting the invitation was meant platonically. Protesting only ever made a person look guiltier.

  Oh my God, what if he felt like I was sexually harassing him? Not that an innocent lunch invitation constituted harassment, but technically it might be construed that way. I considered if it was the other way around and he’d invited me. A male superior asking a female colleague to share a meal could have sexual undertones.

  Or maybe I was seriously overanalysing things and Cameron refused simply because he never shared lunch with anyone. He always ate alone in his office, sometimes in the break room. Regardless, I made a note to never do anything so silly again. From now on, I would think before I spoke.

  When we arrived back at the office, I waved hello to Nadia and stopped at the reception desk to chat with her. I needed an excuse to get away from Cameron.

  “Hey, Nadia! I love your hair like that. It’s so pretty.” After my peace offering latte on Monday, we were back to being buddies again. It put my people-pleasing heart at ease to know she wasn’t annoyed with me anymore.

  Nadia grinned and patted the ends. “I know! My stylist is a genius.”

  Once I saw Cameron go inside, I heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Working with Mr. Grant today, were you?” Nadia asked.

  “Yes,” I replied grimly.

  “It’s too bad he’s so scary. That man is handsome. You don’t see a lot of men like him around here.”

  “No,” I agreed. “You don’t. But he’s not as bad as everyone thinks. His bark is definitely worse than his bite.” Most of the time.

  This seemed to perk her up a little. “Oh, really? Well, I wouldn’t mind letting him bark at me so long as he promised to bite me later.”

  I forced a laugh while at the same time feeling an unwanted twinge of jealousy. I didn’t enjoy the idea of other women at the office fancying Cameron, which considering I was determined to avoid any romantic entanglement with him was cause for concern.

  As I said goodbye to Nadia and headed inside, I hoped Cameron was tucked in his private office by now. I went first to the break room and made a peppermint tea before pulling the peanut butter sandwich I’d prepared this morning from my desk drawer. Maybe it was a good thing Cameron had rejected my invitation to eat out. My sandwich would’ve gone to waste.

  There was that silver lining again.

  Most days Lilah and I sat in the break room and had lunch together, but since she was out today, I sat at my desk and answered some emails while I ate. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Cameron return to his office with a takeaway coffee and a packed salad. He must’ve gone out to the deli. That bashfulness crept in again as we made eye contact, and I looked away quickly. A lump formed in my throat. In spite of how foolish it was, I wanted Cameron to like me, even more than I wanted the average person to like me. And that wasn’t a good sign.

  I mean, I didn’t want him to fancy me rotten or anything, but I would’ve liked to be friends. I always found it hard to make friends at work, mostly because I often came on too strong, acted too nice to people. The key was to act casual, be cool, but that had never come easy to me.

  A few minutes later, a message popped up on the private messaging system that we used for conversations between staff. When I saw the name on my screen, my heart thrummed. I’d never received a message from Cameron before. It contained only two words.

  C. Grant: I’m sorry.

  I frowned and typed back.

  M. Wilkins: Why are you sorry?

  C. Grant: For declining your offer to share lunch.

  M. Wilkins: Don’t worry. I get it. People would talk. Miles has already been sniffing around. He saw us leave the party together.

  C. Grant: Did he now?

  M. Wilkins: I told him you helped me hail a cab. He seems to believe it.

  C. Grant: Good.

  C. Grant: Might I remind you these messages are monitored.

  I stared at the screen, my leg jumping beneath my desk. Who was monitoring the messages? I scanned back over our exchange and worried whoever it was might read between the lines.

  Hastily, I picked up my phone and dialled the extension for Cameron’s office. From my position, I could see him at his desk, lifting the phone to his ear. Our offices had a modern design, with panes of glass separating the private offices from the area with cubicles. This was the first time I’d really noticed how I had a perfect view of him.