Page 87 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“In her own special way,” he muttered.
She laughed, and maybe it was the fact that he finally felt like he’d scored a win, but words fluttered to his mouth and spilled. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
Her mouth opened.
Oh. She was going to refuse. This was a bad idea—
“I would love to.” She flushed. “Except I’ve already promised to have dinner with George.”
“Really? She didn’t mention that.”
“We only talked about it this morning. You could, uh, join us.”
“Yeah, that’s not really the kind of dinner I was thinking. I get to have dinner with her all the time.”
Her lips curved. “I see.”
He could stare at her lips all day. Could watch her breathe and feel thoroughly entertained. He wanted to know her, know what tilted her lips, what private things she found amusing, know what made her sad and what gave her strength. He wanted to learn her in every way. In a way he never had with the other women he’d once thought he’d spend forever with.
He startled and stepped back. Her ever-mobile features melded into concern. “Is something wrong?”
“You mean apart from the fact that I’ve been blown off for my sister, and I’m obviously going to starve tonight?”
“I think starving is optional. And you could still join us, I’m sure.”
“Hey.” The crunch of gravel underfoot drew their attention to George’s return. “What are you two talking about so earnestly?”
“Nothing,” Liv said, scuffing the path with her booted foot.
“Something. Come on, spill.”
“Do you two need a third for dinner?” he asked.
“Do you mean you?” George asked, wide-eyed.
He shrugged, hoping for nonchalance. “Fine. I’ll make my own plans.”
“Oh no you won’t.” George glanced at Liv. “We’re eating, and then we have a movie to watch.”
“We do?” Liv asked.
“Yep. It’s about time my brother realized the amazingness that is Jane Austen.”
Great. His sister, the blatant matchmaker. Could this evening get any more embarrassing?
But later, as he watched the movie that had been filmed here years ago, he realized what a blessing his sister was. She’d left to get ice cream and not returned, leaving him on the sofa next to Liv, her gaze transfixed on the screen while he watched her mouthing along to the words.
“You should be watching the movie,” she scolded.
“I’m happy with what I’m seeing.”
She faced him, her face lighting in a smile. Then the scene changed, and her attention quickly returned to the screen. “This is the best bit.”
It was a scene he vaguely remembered from when he’d watched this movie long ago. The scene with the fountain. His fountain. Just outside. Theo Thomas, the far-too-handsome actor who played Mr. Darcy, looking pleased with himself, was speaking to Elizabeth, guiding her around the garden into position near the fountain.
The next minute he was clasping her face in his hands, his lips pressed on hers. A glance at Liv saw her smile and then peek across at him. He didn’t pretend to not notice, so he smiled back.
Her smile wobbled a little, like she was nervous now, as if she wondered if he’d do the same. But he wouldn’t. Holding her hand and hugging her had been enough for one day.
