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 had she played 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.
