Page 76 of A Searing Acquaintance
“Just testing your patience. I do knowsomepop culture. I lovedThe Jetsons. But no, sadly, I do not have a conveyor belt-driven personal cleaning system.”
“Thank goodness. That would definitely be wretched excess.” Elizabeth leaned against the refrigerator.
“Just a steam shower.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth, still blushing, felt that irrational urge to kiss him return. She cleared her throat. “So, after ruling out MI6 and cat burglar, I realize you’ve never told me exactly what it is you do for a living, Mr. Noir. But one peek into your fridge and I think I’ve figured it out.” She opened one of the doors and pointed at the full shelves. “Party planner or caterer?”
Darcy’s gaze settled on the beautiful woman across from him.Elizabeth Bennet in my kitchen. Barefoot in my kitchen. Wearing my sweatshirt. Fantasy made flesh.He wanted to kiss that smirk off her face. She’d been smirking at him for months, and he’d never had license to follow through on his impulse. Did he now?
He settled for stretching out a hand and capturing her fingers in a gentle grip.
“My housekeeper likes to cook, and she knew I’d be in town for the weekend.”
“An August weekend in Manhattan? Why aren’t you at Pemberley,at the beach?” Elizabeth wondered whether her voice was trembling. The way his fingers were stroking hers and the way his happy eyes were gazing at her made every inch of her feel warm and shaky.
He shrugged. “My cousin borrowed the house. His wife is hosting her family reunion there.” Noting her raised eyebrows, he quickly added, “Rich’s older brother, John.” His attention drifted as he watched her consider his answer.She still has the light summer freckles on her nose that she had at Pemberley. Can I count them? Kiss them? …What is she saying?
“You are a generous man,” she said softly. “And, I wager, a very hungry one. Does your housekeeper cook food as well as she wraps it?”
He nodded and brought her fingers up to his mouth for a kiss. “Actually, she does. She spent last month in Italy at culinary school.”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh, let’s dig in. I’m frighteningly susceptible to a good Bolognese.”
Elizabeth stirred Mrs. Reynolds’s homemade minestrone soup while Darcy assembled sandwiches.
“You have a beautiful home. The views are so grand. And it’s huge.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it,” he said, his attention focused on a baguette. “I can give you a tour after we eat. It’s been in the family for ages, but it’s a little too much space for me. I rattle around in here.”
Catching sight of Elizabeth’s raised eyebrows, he added awkwardly, “Nine rooms, four bedrooms and four baths. And I rarely use the dining room; I don’t entertain here.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth teased. “So I’m a bit of an interloper?”
Darcy paused, a slice of cheese in either hand. “No. Not at all. Never think that.”
He desperately wanted to kiss her again, but he held back. He knew howhefelt because he’d felt it for a very long time.Herfeelings, though, were still a bit of a mystery, and at the moment, he felt rather stupid. He’d run into Elizabeth, and instead of sweeping her off her feet with declarations of love, he was boasting about the size of his apartment? He was acting in all the ways she’d disliked. He’d be fortunate if she stayed after the meal ended.
His nervous intensity unnerved her, as did his obvious reluctance to kiss her. Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I won’t,” she stammered, trying to steer them back to lightness. “We’re going to eat in the kitchen, right?”
“Anything you like. Though the living room offers nicer views.”
“Oh, let’s have a picnic in there,” Elizabeth said excitedly. “It’s a Saturday, after all.” She ladled the soup into the handled bowls he’d set out. When he didn’t respond to her suggestion, she glanced up. “Unless that’s not okay.”Brilliant…like he wants us eating on that antique Persian rug.
She found him staring at her, holding two plates he’d pulled from a slotted cabinet. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” His voice was so soft, she almost didn’t hear the tremor in it. “I can’t remember the last time I was at an indoor picnic.”
From angry, heated words to shy, tongue-tied awkwardness.This is awful. Some small part of her wanted to just get on with it, to grab the man and kiss him senseless. But doing so last fall hadn’t worked out so well. They needed to talk, get comfortable; maybe then they’d kiss each other senseless. She watched him pull out a heavy silver tray. Had any man ever looked so scrumptious in faded jeans and a wrinkled button-down? And sockless in his loafers. She couldn’t help smiling at how little he resembled the man she’d met last fall.
They settled in on the window seat, their food on a small table he pulled up beside them. Elizabeth, curled up in the cushions, expressed delight at the setting. There was a light rain coming down on Central Park;the colorful umbrellas and car hoods, visible through the trees but blurred through the rained-streaked windows into a slow-moving Impressionist image, made for a charmingly cozy backdrop.
Darcy sighed quietly. It was so simple, this. It was as if they’d done it every day: walked in the park, kissed in a cab, made lunch together, settled into the window seat, and talked. He wanted this. He desired her. Constantly. Even her toes were beautiful with their pink-painted nails and a silver ring…Was she wearing a toe ring at Pemberley? Hmmm… What is she saying?
“This room is lovely.” Elizabeth suddenly wondered how many times she’d used that word today.Damn nerves.Sandwich in hand, her eyes swept around the room, taking in the furniture and art, colors and comforts with which he’d surrounded himself.
Darcy was happy she was pleased. “This room is a favorite, but I spend a lot of time in the library as well. Long ago, when my mother was a girl, the library was the nursery, but now it’s filled with bookshelves.”
“Your mother grew up here?”
He nodded, his eyes alight with memory. “Only when she was quite young. The Upper West Side wasn’t the best place to raise a family in the late 1960s, so my grandparents bought an apartment over on Park, where my Aunt Catherine now lives.”
