Page 25 of A Searing Acquaintance
“Me too. I’m a lucky girl, Nurse Darcy.”
It took him a second to react. He started to tell her that they were now even, but the simultaneous arrivals of Stefan and Samantha interrupted the moment.
“Elizabeth, we should go. We have an early start tomorrow.” The blond Viking glowed.
Samantha beamed at him. “So nice to meet you, Stefan,” she purred. “Have a good flight. C’mon, Darcy. I need a nightcap.”
Darcy watched Elizabeth walk off arm in arm with Stefan. The circulation in his own arm was cut off by Samantha’s tightening grasp. She rubbed her other hand across his chest. “You always play hard to get, big guy. I’ve known you for years and barely been kissed. Perhaps this is our night.”
“Samantha…”
“Oh, come on. You have another girl at home?” She pulled his arm closer until it rubbed against her barely covered breasts.
His jaw tightened. “As a matter of fact, I do. And she probably needs her walk.” He pulled away and nodded. “Good night.”
Of course, he was with a blonde,Elizabeth fumed.One with perfect teeth and genes that likely arrived here on the Mayflower. Samantha Bertram—now there’s a name straight from the Social Register.Elizabeth scrolled down the Google references to the Bertram family: old money, investment banking, polo-playing types.Didn’t the Pilgrims eschew money and material goods, or did all the altruistic types die off during the long Massachusetts winters? Will this February and its dreary cold never end?
Elizabeth stared at the screen.Should I Google him?Googling Darcy would validate that he intrigued her. She didn’t want to do it. Looking up people she didn’t know was one thing, but Elizabeth was resistant to prying into the Internet trail of people she’d met. It was too invasive. She certainly didn’t want people forming an opinion about her based on a neglected Facebook page, dated stories about her soccer career, and whatever pictures other people had tagged her in. Not thatshe’d ever Googled herself. Charlottehad, after one too many chocolate martinis. The girl was a menace.
Her fingers wavered over the keyboard. Finally, she typed in his name and clicked Enter. The page filled with entries from theFinancial Times, Wall Street Journal, London Times, New York Times, Fortune, and a LinkedIn profile. Businesses, corporate interests and boards, philanthropies…it was overwhelming.Hewas overwhelming. She couldn’t fathom reading any of it. She was about to exit when a thumbnail photo from a tabloid caught her eye. She clicked on it. There he was at some gala in a tux with a thin blonde beauty on his arm and another beautiful young couple beside them. “Yup, just as I thought.” Elizabeth chewed her lip, temptation and trepidation warring inside her. There were a lot of entries here.
No, I know enough.She closed the page, shut down her laptop, and scooted deeper under the covers.Sometimes I hate being right.
CHAPTER SIX
Saturday morning found a few inches of snow on the ground and a claustrophobic Elizabeth staring at the previous Sunday’s crossword puzzle. After a trip to the gym and an hour spent noodling with some writing, she was happy to meet Charlotte for lunch, and was rather pleased to arrive only five minutes late, which meant she was only ten minutes later than her ever-prompt friend. What was it with accountants? Bean counters, clock watchers…
She indulged in a chicken potpie and a glass of pinot while listening to Charlotte’s frustrating stories of accounting incompetence, twisted tales of her foray into online dating, and complaints about annoying cowlicks that kept her hair in a permanent pixie-cut.
“Geez, you sound like Jane sometimes. She’s tired of being a bridesmaid at Gamma Phi weddings and tired of breaking up with squishy guys who can’t commit to her but then get engaged to the next girl they screw.”
“Lizzy, wait! What do you mean ‘squishy’?” Charlotte finished the last of her beer and leaned closer. “Since when has Jane dated men who don’t work out five days a week?”
“Squishy, sleazy, slimy, faithless. Whatever.”
“I’ll have another,” Charlotte said to the waiter as she tapped the rim of her glass. “So tell me, is this really about you, the woman of a thousand men?”
“Ha. They’re not my men. They’re my clients. Interviewees. Subjects.”
“Subjects?” Charlotte cackled. “And you, the queen, deign to take them to parties? To the Guggenheim? To your dad’s house? Do you knight them too?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes though she wasn’t quite as lighthearted about it as she tried to appear. “It’s not like that. I’m trying to gain their trust and talk to them as a friend, somebody they can tell their stories to.”
“Are they arm candy? Or are you getting a taste of any of those sweet, muscled men?” Charlotte snickered. “That Stefan guy was pretty hot.”
“And very much in love with his boyfriend in New Mexico.”
“Really?Really!So much for my gaydar.” Charlotte took her fresh drink from the server and reached for a breadstick. She tapped it against Elizabeth’s wine glass. “None of these guys you’re dragging to New York hot spots are anything more than business relationships?”
“Nope. Sadly, I have become an ace at short-term, but lucrative and entertaining, business relationships.”
Charlotte regarded Elizabeth thoughtfully. “How about real men?”
“Know any?”
“Jane seems awfully happy with Charles. He’s sweet, solid, and loyal. Whatever happened to his friend, the stiff English guy who bought us nachos? What was his name?”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Elizabeth took a bite of her meal as she considered her answer. “He’s not that stiff. Apparently, he’s some kind of sleazy playboy. Sleeps around but still thinks he’s all high and mighty.”
