Page 4 of Perfectly Right

His hand moved more quickly than his voice. “No...I...um...I have a proposal?—”

Her eyes widened, looking from his hand, resting on her arm, back to him.

“Sorry.” Darcy shifted in his chair, pulling his hand back to his side of the table. “I have an idea, to prove the point about online dating. I’ll set up dates for you—just lunch or coffee?—”

She would have looked less shocked if he had sprouted a second head or announced he was moving to Nepal to become a sherpa.

“Are you nuts? No freaking way.”

“You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Just my time and my dignity. It’s enough that my mother always wants to set me up with someone’s third cousin’s neighbor or the new pharmacist in Meryton. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, and I have better ways to spend my time.”

She looked up at the server as he set down a glass of pinot gris by her elbow. Darcy watched her nose wrinkle as she extended a slim finger to pull out a small piece of cork from the wine. She looked up and met his eyes.

“You deserve better than your mother’s setups or some accountant trolling art galleries for dates.”

Elizabeth stared at him, clearly surprised he knew anything about her personal life, let alone her ex-boyfriend. “What makes you think you know what I like in a man?”

“I know what you despise in a man, thus I am pretty sure I know what you might like.”

He swore silently. He hadn’t meant to allude to their past interactions or the biting words she had said when he’d made hisawkward, ill-timed declaration to her. To his relief, she appeared unbothered by his thoughtlessness.

“Are your friends like you, super serious and fond of saying ‘thus’ all the time?”

“My friends tend to be more like Charlie, and none have beards even approaching Santa-length.”

“Points in their favor.” Elizabeth tapped on her wineglass. “Charlie is great. He’s sweet and has good hair and will make great dad jokes someday. But he’s not really my type. Jane and I are pretty different.”

Yes, you are.Darcy waited, uncertain whether speaking would ruin her change in mood.

“Okay,” she said, holding up a finger. “If you want to be my matchmaker, I get to be yours.”

“Wait, what?”

She shrugged, her sweater shifting to reveal a little more of her shoulder. Glancing up, Darcy saw her gazing at him with a mischievous smirk. “You’re even more single than I am. The only woman I’ve seen on your arm since we met is Caroline, and even though anyone in a quarter-mile could tell she wanted you, it was pretty clearyouweren’t interested.”

He bit his lip. “Yes, um, she’s a conundrum. My sister says Caroline thinks we’re dating because I’ve given her rides a few times and complimented her ice skating once.”

“Once.” Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed, truly laughed.Remember this, Darcy told himself,you made her laugh.

“You poor thing,” she said. “I promise there will be no one like Caroline. I have fun, normal friends.”

Wait, is she serious about finding someone for me?“You don’t know my type.”

“Based on your lack of a date at any event we’ve both attended, I’d say you don’t know it either. If you want to play Cupid for me?—”

“Relationship consultant.”

“Fine—relationship consultant—then it’s reciprocal. I’m doing it for you, too. Deal?”

She held out her hand, and there was no possibility that Darcy would resist grasping it and agreeing.

“Great. Let’s set ground rules.” She dropped his hand and used hers to begin counting off her guidelines. “Three dates. Coffee, in a public place, on a Saturday morning. No spying on the other’s meetups, but a thumbs-up or thumbs-down via text is required within two hours of the date’s completion.”

“Sure.” He had not thought this through; spying on Elizabeth and another man—even a man poorly suited for her—would have been a torturous temptation. A loud popping sound commanded Darcy’s attention to drift past her, to the Champagne being opened for a smiling couple clearly celebrating some kind of anniversary. “And your dates will be holding a red rose so you recognize them.”

Her nose wrinkled adorably. “Ah, the perfect romantic cliché.”

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