Page 38 of A Certain Appeal
“This means I was the meeting you had to get to the other day. With Jane,” he says, as though coming to the conclusion as he speaks.
“That’s why you were in such a rush.” I grimace. “I hope you were coming in anyway.”
“There’s always something to do around here,” he says with a half smile. “I appreciate that you cited it as a family emergency.”
“It was.”
He nods slowly, eyes roaming my face. “You put a lot of personality in those emails. Professional, but just enough cheek to keep them interesting. I looked forward to receiving them.”
Flirting. This is definitely flirtation. But Darcy?Mr. Tolerablehimself, flirting? He who doesn’t “trust” my beloved avocation? It rouses a prickle of annoyance, though the sensation is outmatched by the sudden coil of pleasure twining in my belly.
Which is also annoying.
“Ah! Finn!” he calls to a server bearing a tray of champagne flutes.
The waiter, a young guy with a head of unruly copper curls, stops and smiles. “Will! Good to see you. Would you and the lady like a drink?”
“Bennet?”
“Sure.”
Darcy takes a champagne flute from either side of the tray, mindful to keep the waiter’s load balanced. He hands me a glass and I nod my thanks.
“Is this your last semester at NYU, or will you have another left?”
“One more,” Finn says. “The workload’s been brutal. But the internship is going well. I can’t thank you enough for that.”
“No trouble,” says Darcy. He turns a little, making me more a part of the conversation. “I did my family the disservice of failing to go to law school myself. It would have been a crime to waste those connections. Besides”—he points to Finn—“you did the work.”
Finn nods, going pink in the cheeks. “Thanks anyway,” he insists, and raises his tray. “Sorry, I gotta keep moving these. Great seeing you. I’ll tell Fitz you said hello.” He sends me another little nod and moves on.
“Finn’s interning at my uncle’s law firm,” Darcy explains. “I’m sure Fitz is running him ragged, but it’s great experience.” He lifts his glass. I tip mine against it and echo his offered, “Cheers.” We watch one another as we drink.
“I take it you booked the night’s entertainment?” he inquires.
I shrug, dwelling on the decency—hell, generosity—of his hooking up that waiter. “It would be a crime to waste the connections.”
“I never would have thought about employing the space the way you are. You have a creative perspective.”
“I have experience in design.” The temptation to go into detail collides with my better judgment. I’m not about to admit to the hours I’ve spent fantasizing about remodeling this room, not when he’s been so dismissive of what I’d like to see play out on its stage. “Between thatand working at Meryton, I can’t look at a crossbeam without considering how Ginn and Tonic might use it to scare the hell out of people.”
“That spiraling move is harrowing,” he says, and while he’s smiling faintly, I catch a flicker of disappointment in his dark eyes. “Made me glad I insisted on the landing pad.”
I laugh; hewaspersistent. “If you’re going to let aerialists perform here, you may want to invest in your own. Lugging that thing up from Brooklyn earned me a few enemies on the Two train.”
“The mat’s yours?”
“It’s a bouldering mat. For climbing.”
“That’s right. One of those varied interests of yours.”
He remembers.A pleasant sparking zips up my spine. I crane my neck and locate a corner of the black mat through the legs of the guests. “I don’t know why I moved with it. I only ever climb indoors now. But guests say it’s not bad to sleep on. I can’t guarantee it’s totally up to the standard of some insurance policies, though. If you see the owner”—I hold a finger to my lips—“it’s probably best to play dumb.”
He fights a smile, which does as much for his features as actually smiling does. His eyes make another heart-stopping pass over me. “Jane’s an excellent pianist.” He turns, leaning against the railing. I shift, too, getting a view of Jane chatting with the head of Work It’s HR. Jane carries on playing and laughs at something she says, not missing a note. “Juilliard, right?”
I nod, though the question threatens to rub me the wrong way. While I’m not surprised that it would have come up in conversation between Jane and Charles, I doubt my humble Jane would have shared it with Darcy. More likely, Charles felt compelled to announce his boyfriend’s pedigree to build Jane up for Darcy’s approval.
I wonder how much Darcy might know. “Jane comes from a long line of doctors, so there was some grumbling.”
