are you doing here?” To Mr. Darcy’s credit, he didn’t come off as rude when he asked her this. He sounded befuddled, in an oh-so-charming-Hugh-Grant sort of way.
Elizabeth wasn’t fooled. She remembered the Hugh Grant scandal of the nineties with perfect clarity. Not pretty. “I live here.”
“In New York City? Alone?” He looked at the empty space around her own non-Chanel ballerina flats, as if he expected someone to materialize.
Alone? Who did he think he was? Her mother? “Yes, alone. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I didn’t mean to pry.” He crossed his arms, and Elizabeth caught a glimpse of his cuff links. Silver this time, like the ones that were always on display in the windows at Tiffany’s.
As at the dog show, everything about Mr. Darcy’s appearance was resplendent. From the polished sheen of his loafers to the narrow cut of his suit. And Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice his tie was folded into the most perfect Windsor she’d ever laid eyes on. Of course.
Given the many bridegrooms Elizabeth had seen at Scott Bridal who didn’t know the top end of a cummerbund from the bottom, she’d always found men who dressed well particularly sexy.
Damn.
“Miss Scott, I think you misunderstood me. I was only wondering about your charming little dog, the Blenheim Cavalier. Bliss, right?”
Despite the warning bells going off in her head reminding her that this was Mr. Darcy of all people, she found herself softening toward him. Just a little.
How many dogs did a dog-show judge see in a weekend? Hundreds, at least. Maybe even a thousand.
And he’d remembered Bliss’s name.
She relaxed ever so slightly and gave herself permission to smile at Mr. Darcy. “She’s at home. I had to, um, run an errand.”
He smiled back. “I hope she’s doing well.”
“She is. Thank you.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what else to say. Her gaze flitted to Zara, who stood quietly watching their exchange. If it bothered her that Mr. Darcy had stopped dead in his tracks to carry on a conversation with another woman, she gave no indication of it. Then again, why would it bother her? She’d heard him call her tolerable. She knew Elizabeth was no threat.
At the very least, Elizabeth figured Zara would be ready to move on and away from the pedestrians who jostled their way around their little threesome. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem to care a whit about any of it.
Elizabeth glanced back at Mr. Darcy. His dark eyes were trained on her, watching her with his trademark intensity. Her first instinct was to look away, but the unexpected earnestness in those brooding eyes made her fix her gaze on his.
He looked at her for a long, silent moment before he finally spoke. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood a few things I’ve said.”
Something about his gaze was so tender, Elizabeth could feel it down to her toes. And she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but somehow she knew he was referring to the tolerable comment. If it were possible for a person to make amends with just a look, Donovan Darcy was giving it a go.
Elizabeth was captivated. She felt as though they were the only two people on the busy sidewalk. Impossible, of course. People swarmed all around them, not to mention the very-present Zara.
Then Elizabeth’s handbag barked, breaking the magic spell.
Zara’s baby-smooth forehead creased in apparent confusion. “Was that a bark?”
Mr. Darcy tilted his head and lifted an amused brow. “Are you sure Bliss is at home? It sounds as though she hitched a ride in your purse.”
“It’s my ringtone.” Elizabeth fished around in her bag for her barking phone. “I should probably answer this. It could be important.”
In fact, the likelihood of the call being important was slim at best. It was just something to say, a way to extricate herself from what was beginning to feel oddly like some sort of love triangle.
Love triangle. As if.
Elizabeth wanted to kick herself.
Instead, she answered the phone. “Hello?”
Mr. Darcy stood right where he was, rooted to the spot. Why wasn’t he leaving? What was he doing here, anyway? Although the collection of shopping bags dangling from Zara’s slender arms hinted at the purpose of their trip. Chanel. Gucci. And especially nauseating, Prada.
Elizabeth averted her gaze before she spotted a bag from Tiffany’s. She didn’t think she’d be able to stomach such a thing.
“Elizabeth, dear, is that you? It’s Sue. Sue Barrow.”
“Oh, Sue. How wonderful to hear from you.”
As she spoke, Elizabeth was aware of Mr. Darcy watching her mouth. She was sure it was because she was talking. What else did he have to look at? Still, it unnerved her in a way she was ashamed to admit wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
“Sue, could you hold on for a second?”
“Certainly.”
With Sue safely on hold, Elizabeth clutched her phone to her chest. Clearly a dismissal was in order. Mr. Darcy didn’t appear to be in a hurry to get anywhere, and Elizabeth was ready for him to go. As pleasant as he was to look at, she had no desire to hang out with him and Zara.
“Well, it was nice seeing you both.” Elizabeth smiled. “But I really need to take this. Enjoy your stay in the city.”
Something flickered in Mr. Darcy’s dark eyes. Frustration? Elizabeth couldn’t be sure.
“Miss Scott.” He bent at the waist slightly.
A bow. He’d bowed at her. Who did that? What was she supposed to do now? Curtsy?
She settled on a wave. “Bye.”
Elizabeth walked away, letting the swarm of people on the sidewalk swallow her up. She picked up her pace as she picked up the phone. “Sue, hi. I’m so sorry.”
“No worries. Alan and I are sitting at the airport, waiting for our flight home. No hurry.” Elizabeth could hear a smile in Sue’s voice at the mention of her husband.
“You’re on your way back to London?”
“Yes. Alan has business meetings this week. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Alan and I have a proposition for you, Elizabeth. One I hope will sound appealing.”
Elizabeth’s steps slowed. “A proposition?”
“The other night at dinner, we couldn’t help but overhear your mother mention that you were out of work at the moment.”
Overhear. Sue was being polite. Elizabeth’s mother had roared on and on about it, as was her custom.
“Yes,
