Page 44 of Pride and Protest
“An organization which you—with awomen’s studiesdegree—find no fault with?”
“Not true. An organization is made up of people. You can’t paint everything with a broad brush. For example, I find hella fault with Pemberley Development, and yet here you are.”
“Point taken. A few more questions. What is his organization trying to do?”
“Outbid you on Netherfield.”
Dorsey rolled his eyes. “Netherfield is already mine.” Something about the way he bared his teeth at the word “mine” made Liza avert her gaze.
“Well... request that they reopen the bid.” Liza was now piecing together holes in the story for herself. She didn’t know the whole schema yet, but how dare he try to make her unsure of her cause?
“Do you understandpreciselywhy he needs the money?”Dorsey said slowly, like he was talking to a toddler. Liza couldn’t put a fine point on it, but why did she need to for Dorsey’s sake?
“How do you know he’s raising money?”He must have spies everywhere.
“It’s all he’s ever doing,” Dorsey said flatly.
“I don’t have to tell you anything I’m doing. It’s a violation of the Hotel Washington Treaty,” Liza reminded him.
“You’re right. But you should know WIC and I aren’t cordial.”
“So he’s not invited to the gala?” Liza threw him a dusty box of decorations. “Honestly, Dorsey, if we only invited people that you’re cordial with, then that would leave you in a room with Jennifer and David.”
“It’syourplus-one. I’m not your father.” He looked at her, unblinking.Why does everything seem so intense with him?“I can’t stop you from making terrible choices.” Dorsey shrugged stiffly.
Liza sucked her teeth. He couldn’t evenshrugcasually. “I wasn’taskingpermission.”
“It sounds like you want permission or a reaction,” Dorsey sniped. “I don’t care to give you either.”
Liza snapped her neck back as if she’d been slapped. The nerve of this man assuming she would need his approval!
“It’syourparty. I was trying to be respectful.”
“It’s my company’s party.”
“You know what, whatever. I’ll come with whomever I want,” she whispered.
“If we’re doing whatever we want, there’s a thing I wanted to do.” Dorsey shifted the box to his hip.
“If you ask to touch my hair—” Liza warned. But instead, Dorsey leaned in close. Liza instinctively pressed her palms to his shoulders. Her loud, nosy-ass family was right down the hall. He wasn’t going to try to kiss her right now? Her bellyplummeted. He dropped his head even lower. She was so afraid that he might try it, and even more afraid that she would let him. She parted her lips. God help her if he was going for it. She closed her eyes in anticipation. The scruff of his chin rubbed past her cheek, but his lips moved past her mouth and whispered in her ear.
Nota kiss.
“Can I ask for a little guidance about gentrification?” Dorsey asked. This close, his spiky lashes shot out like stars and his sandstone skin looked soft and pliant. Liza tried to will her heartbeat to slow down. “I want to understand more,” he said.
“Um, sure, I can send you some readings.” She should berelievedthat he wasn’t leaning in for a kiss. “But I’m not going to be your tour guide through racism.”
“I have a degree in civil engineering from Princeton. I don’t think I need a tour guide. I realized that Idoneed some perspective, though.”
“Ever humble,” Liza said. Her hands were still on him. His broad shoulders rose and fell under her palms, the smooth, soft material of his sweater shifting slightly. She was trying not to notice his rapid pulse and instead tried to name this luxuriously soft material at her fingertips. And damn if it wasn’t the wool of some poor baby vicuña. She wanted to wrap her arms around his shoulders and flip the tag over. Placing the fabric was a small victory, but it wasn’t distracting her from the oceanic depth of his eyes. While her nether regions pulsed and her belly quivered, on the outside, she tried to radiate cool indifference.
“I have a hunch that the literature they gave me at Princeton and what they gave you at Howard was probably pretty different,” Dorsey said.
“I never told you I went to Howard.”
“You’re right. You only mention it every half hour on your radio show.”
“You listen to my show?” Liza touched her warm cheeks.
