Page 90 of A Searing Acquaintance
“Yes. No.” He held up a hand. “Stop.”
“Hey, I’m just messing with you. This is great news, man. I thought you looked a little more relaxed.” He beamed at his blushing cousin and then sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’ll leave. But bring her over to the house tomorrow.”
Met with Darcy’s vigorous demurral, he proposed brunch on Sunday. “Please. I need a playdate. I need something to look forward to.”
“You didn’t bring anyone? I thought things were going well with…Sophia, is it?”
Rich looked at the ground. “Uh, no. We broke up. We’re done for good.”
“Sorry. You all right?”
Rich shrugged. “Yeah. My father has a great liquor cabinet, and the beach is perfect for sweating out pain.”
“Your parents will be happy to spend some time with you, but don’t ask me to put Elizabeth through the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Hey!”
“Youknowyour mother.”
“I know. It’s fine. You deserve time alone with her. If you two showed up, I’d be the one getting the third degree anyway. ‘Where’syourbeautiful girlfriend, Richard?’” His chuckle sounded more like a sigh. “Thumb screws, the rack, the iron maiden…they’re quite a pair, my parents.”
“Will?” Darcy heard Elizabeth call his name. He turned and saw her walking up the dune toward them.
“I’m outta here. Have fun. And don’t let anyone else see her in that bikini. Noteveryoneis a gentleman.” Rich smirked and went around the corner to his car.
Elizabeth woke up first on Saturday morning. Her head was tucked into Darcy’s shoulder, his arm loosely around her waist, her hand on his chest. She didn’t have a lot of experience waking up with men, but she knew this particular arrangement was the most wonderful she’d ever been in. They were both naked—a novelty, since she usually sleptin a T-shirt and panties. Last night, she had worn only him. It felt as if they’d branded each other: his mouth on hers, movingeverywhereon her.Their hesitancy nearly gone, it had been all fire and passion. Thinking about the heat in his eyes as he’d whispered her name, his eyes wild, made her shiver in the chilly morning air.That thermostat is set wrong.
Darcy woke soon after to the sensation of hair tickling his chest. He felt small points of delight poking him in the stomach. His newly awakened thought processes didn’t advance much beyond caveman sensibilities.She’s here. We’re naked. Perfect.
“Good morning,” she purred.
“A very, very good morning. I thank you again for sparing me a visit to East Hampton.” He eased her onto her back and commenced kissing her senseless.T-shirtsare such an unnecessary expense.
That night, after a day of sailing, swimming, and napping on chaises, the happy couple sat on the beach and looked at the stars. Her father might have given Elizabeth her first book on the night sky, but she’d taught herself the constellations. The man she was leaning into, his arms holding her close, knew every star. Andhehadn’t learned them from sticky-backed plastic stars and library books.
The Big Dipper prompted the first revelation. “Ursa Major, the Great Bear? My father gave me hell for adopting the American names. ‘Fitzwilliam,’ he’d say, ‘Darcys call it the Plough.’”
Elizabeth filed that away; it was one of the few times he’d ever brought up his father. “Did the Darcy family castle have its own observatory? Or were you an astronomer at Eton, sneaking a telescope onto the roof and peeping into dorm rooms?”
He laughed into her hair. “Now that sounds so much more exciting than the truth.” He kissed her ear. “I used to sneak out of my room at home and sit on the roof.”
“Ah, after skulking about with the scullery maids?” She grinned when he sighed dramatically; she could feel him holding back a laugh. “Was it easy to sneak out, what with the moat and all?”
“Oh, of course. Trellises and ivy are helpful to cat burglars and star-struck insomniacs.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “You smell so good.”
“I’ll be sure to drop a note to L’Oreal and thank her for making you happy.”
Darcy hugged her closer to him. “Were you sneaking out windows too?” At her nod, he posed another question. “For the stars or for the boys?”
She giggled. “The only boys worth such subterfuge were wearing spikes and shin guards. And they were few and far between. It seems every guy in Queens and New Jersey prefers basketball to soccer.”
“Not me—I’m a New Yorker,” he joked, giving her a squeeze. “So you were a good girl and stayed inside?”
“Yes, not that anyone would’ve noticed. Lydia had a lot of tantrums and was always screaming, and Barbara was tired…”
“You were eight when she married your father?”No…that’s when her mother left. Day after she turned eight.
“Nine.”
