Page 37 of A Certain Appeal
And on my ride into work the next morning. And during yesterday’s lunch break.
Behind me, Jane starts playing “An American in Paris.” The tune’s urgency is a little out of place, but I close my eyes, letting my vision unfold in time with the rise and fall of the notes. Conceal the out-of-place barn wood at the back of the stage with a dark, solid drape. For the stage: plush red velvet curtains with gold tassels and coordinating bunting for depth. The footlights can stay, but with shells to tie in with the classic look of the curtains.
A collective gasp stirs me from my daydream. The vision peels away in time for me to watch Ginn, not to be outdone by Tonic, finish her own death spiral. She dangles in front of one of the managers from out of town—the Seattle branch, I think—and tousles his hair. He stares in naked adoration.Lord.And I thought Toby was on the verge of drooling.
I search again for a drink server. The one I spotted earlier has moved to another platform and—oh, hello—to get to him I’ll have to pass a very well-filled-out suit on the catwalk. Its owner has his back to me, head angled toward the action on the silks. I move toward myinitial target while preparing to steal a better glance at the second. Not that the rear view isn’t appealing.
Appealing and... familiar?
I almost choke on my last bite of date. With a startled cough, I spin away, heart rate accelerating as I try to compose myself. This makes no sense. He wouldn’t be here. Unless he’s a plus-one? Or his tush has a doppelgänger...
One way to find out. I clear my throat, take in a breath, and turn to face Will Darcy...
... who is already looking my way.
Heat flares across my skin. I’ve interrupted enough oglers to know the signs of lingering appreciation, and Darcy’s half-second delay before he makes eye contact tells me he’s been admiring the view. He continues to study me with the same vague look the interns get when I change the Wi-Fi password: the situation is possible but incompatible with expectations.
I wait him out, glad I had a moment to process his presence before he discovered mine. Now that the surprise is ebbing and there’s no risk of my choking on finger food, exasperation takes center stage. My date no-shows, yet here we have the guy whose follow-up to condemning my favorite pastime as “manipulative” was to set my world askew.AndI’ve caught him checking out my butt.What chaos god did I offend?
I’ll let the butt thing slide—the dress really is flattering, and I know my assets—but seeing him in the space I’ve devoted creative energy to feels like a violation. Part of why I ended up sketching on the ride home the other night was to distract myself from the push and pull of our argument. I’d wanted to write him off completely, but that goddamn smile before he walked out kept teaming up with the lookat Meryton, and his comment about catching my peel:“I said I didn’t trust it. Not that I didn’t like it.”
Andholy hellcan the man wear a suit.
His eyes go wide. It is tremendously satisfying. “Bennet?”
“Darcy,” I say with all the coolness of my ten-second advantage.
The shock shifts to intrigue as he strolls my way, nodding politely to the people he has to move around. He maintains eye contact as he walks.
I roll my shoulders. He isverygood with eye contact.
His attention drops down and up my figure, and I suppress a shiver.
He is also skilled atnotmaking eye contact.
“Seeing Jane at the piano was surprising enough, then the aerialists, and now you.” He smiles, resting a hand on the railing. “No one’s going to start taking clothes off, are they?”
The candor threatens to throw me. “Nah. My boss is already enraptured.” I indicate Toby, who is probably going to need a chiropractor after tonight. Has he even moved since I walked away? “He wouldn’t know what to do with himself.”
“You’re with Work It?”
“I’m the executive assistant.”
“That—you’reEBenAdmin.” He says my email handle with meaningful realization. “You have excellent correspondence skills.”
“This is where I ask you how you know that.”
“I was cc’d on some emails. You really came through on that liability insurance.”
“Still not connecting the dots,” I say, though I don’t mind the tease. Is he beingcoy? The prospect tingles across my shoulders.
“As owner of the venue, it felt like I should be included in that kind of decision.”
The tingle gives way to shock. “Come again?”
“Pemberley’s been in my family for ages,” he says with a shrug. “It’s been several things over the years, but now we’re hosting events. Which I suppose you know, seeing as you rented it.”
I nod, still trying to wrap my brain around the new information. The beautiful space I’ve spent the past three days sketching belongs tohim? I’m going to have to look up chaos gods when I get home, because this level of coincidence feels suspiciously divine.
