President Darcy

by Victoria Kincaid

  “The one where we didn’t even get reservations?” Her aunt snorted. “I think we can forgo that pleasure for an opportunity when the President of the United States invites us to his house for dinner.”

  “Of course. It’s fine,” Elizabeth said hastily. She was half appalled and half thrilled at the idea of remaining at Pemberley.

  Uncle Thomas stepped toward Elizabeth until they were face-to-face. “Lizzy, has something happened with the president? Has he made you feel uncomfortable? We won’t stay if you think he’s a creep.”

  “It’s nothing like that.” The words tumbled out of Elizabeth’s mouth. “I…he…he and I…” She blew out a frustrated breath and started again. “We never seem to be on the same wavelength. He’s so proud and acted like such a snob when he talked to my family, but at times like these he’s trying so hard to be pleasant. I don’t understand why his behavior changed.”

  “I can guess a reason or two why,” Aunt Madeline said with a small smile. Elizabeth was certain she didn’t want to know what her aunt was thinking. “I would like to stay. Goodness knows we won’t get an opportunity like this again.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my dear,” Uncle Thomas said enigmatically.

  Elizabeth returned to the patio and informed Will that they’d rearranged their plans so they could stay for the night. She didn’t believe she’d ever seen him smile so broadly.

  Afterward, things happened quickly—which probably wasn’t unusual around the president. He had an agent drive Aunt Madeline to their rental house to pack up clothing for everyone. Elizabeth chatted with Fitz and her uncle while Bing and Will attended to some presidential duties. By the time her aunt returned, everyone was more than ready for a couple of hours at the beach.

  ***

  The beach at Pemberley was one of Darcy’s favorite places in the world, and he was thrilled to share it with Elizabeth. Her aunt and uncle were very pleasant company and a great addition to the party.

  Darcy had been eagerly anticipating the sight of Elizabeth in a swimsuit, but his own reaction overwhelmed him. Her bikini was blue and covered more skin than many such suits. Still, it left little to the imagination, and Darcy had spent many hours imagining what he was now able to see. Time and again he resolved to sit back in his beach chair and enjoy the vast cloudless sky and rhythmic sounds of the waves, but his eyes were drawn back to Elizabeth’s bikini; he was helpless in the face of such an alluring sight.

  It wasn’t just her incredible hotness in the bikini that drew his attention. She was so clearly enjoying herself, alternately floating in an inner tube or splashing with her aunt and uncle. Her eyes sparkled, and she laughed with abandon. When she swam, she cut through the water with a blithe lack of self-consciousness. If he joined her in the water, could she teach him that kind of spontaneity? Could spontaneity even be learned?

  Darcy’s board shorts were not loose enough to completely conceal his…reaction to her presence. He was compelled to place a towel over his lap—and still couldn’t avert his eyes from her form. Hopefully her aunt and uncle were enjoying the beach too much to notice his stares; otherwise, they might worry the danger of kidnapping hadn’t passed.

  Caroline had arrived a couple of hours ago and was stretched out on the beach chair next to his. Her designer bathing suit consisted of a complicated set of straps that would surely become hopelessly tangled if she actually attempted to swim. Of course, the suit’s true purpose was to show off her slender figure, which it did very well. Nevertheless, Darcy’s gaze was never drawn to her.

  Behind her oversized sunglasses, Caroline observed Elizabeth frolic in the surf as well. “You would think her family could afford a more flattering swimsuit for her,” she sniffed.

  “I think it’s quite flattering,” Darcy said mildly.

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “Puh-leeze! It’s at least two years out of date. And look how brown she is; I bet her skin will be dry and wrinkly before she’s forty.”

  “It’s just a light tan. I think it gives her a healthy glow, don’t you, Bing?”

  On Darcy’s other side, Bing glared at his friend, not happy to be dragged into the discussion. “I suppose,” he replied noncommittally.

  Caroline settled back into her chair with a moue of displeasure. “I don’t see why you invited them to spend the night,” she complained. “They’re nice enough people, but we don’t know anyone in common. Her family has some money I suppose; the danger of bankruptcy seems to have passed for now. But they all went to public school, for heaven’s sake. What on earth will we find to talk about at dinner?”

  Darcy managed to hide a grin. “I’m sure we’ll muddle through.”

  “I don’t see the appeal.” She regarded Darcy over the rim of her sunglasses.

  Darcy gritted his teeth. “You don’t need to. They’re my guests, Caroline.”

  She huffed and shook her hair back from her face. “Maybe I’ll see if Fitz would like to go for a walk.” Rising gracefully from the chair, she stalked over to the towel where Fitz had fallen asleep while sunbathing and prodded the man with her toe. Soon the pair was strolling down the beach.

  Naturally, Darcy’s attention returned to Elizabeth like a homing pigeon. Bing chuckled and Darcy sighed, watching her push her aunt around on the inner tube. “I can’t help it.”

  “She is very attractive.”

  Darcy deliberately misunderstood his friend. “Bing, she’s married and at least twice your age.”

  “Ha, ha,” Bing said. “Even Caroline noticed your…attraction.”

  Darcy’s fists clenched on his thighs. “Yes, Elizabeth is attractive. Too damn attractive.”

  “Why’s that?” Bing asked. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

  What a horrifying thought. “I don’t think so, but she…I just don’t think she’s into me.”

  Bing leaned closer to Darcy. “Why do you say that?”

  “There’s the whole ran-screaming-from-me thing.”

  Bing raised an eyebrow. “I thought she didn’t scream, and it was a fast walk.”

  “Whatever you call it, she fled my presence.”

  “But she sought you out today.”

  “To apologize.”

  “That might not be the only reason,” Bing said. “You wanted to apologize to her, but that’s not all you want.”

  “Hmm.” Darcy was mesmerized as he watched Elizabeth playfully splash her uncle.

  “She blushes when you look at her.”

  “She does?” Darcy gave Bing a sharp look. “But she argues with everything I say.”

  Bing chuckled. “Isn’t that part of her appeal?”

  “Huh,” Darcy considered. “Maybe.”

  Bing squinted at his friend. “You like the woman. She’s on your beach. Why are you sitting here like a dead horseshoe crab? She keeps glancing this way.”

  “She does?”

  “Yeah.” Bing chuckled. “Why don’t you go play in the water with her?”

  Darcy snorted. “Do you know how long it’s been since I ‘played’ in the water?”

  “I’m guessing you could have counted your age in single digits.”

  Darcy nodded. Why had he wasted his time going to college and learning about politics? Obviously playing in the water was a vital life skill he had grievously neglected.

  “I bet it’s like riding a bicycle,” Bing said, clasping Darcy’s shoulder. “You’ll remember once you get started.”

  Darcy eyed Elizabeth wistfully. It did look like fun. Could he simply wade into the ocean and join in the splashing? Oh Lord, I’d probably look like an idiot.

  Darcy slid down in his beach chair. “Maybe later.”

  Bing gave him a long look. “You know,” he said slowly, “I think what you need is a strategy.”

  “A strategy to play in the ocean,” Darcy echoed.

  His friend’s eyes glittered. “You need the proper tools…and I happen to have water guns in my beach bag…”

  Hmm. It would be easier t
o join the fun with a water gun in hand, although it wouldn’t be exactly dignified.

  “It’s a high-powered gun…with pump action and a scope for accuracy…” Bing’s voice tantalized him.

  Elizabeth’s musical laughter traveled over the waves. Ah, screw dignity.

  “Yeah,” he heard himself replying, “I want to borrow it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elizabeth regarded herself critically in the mirror. She adjusted the strap on her dress. Fortunately, her aunt had the foresight to pick up the only semi-nice piece of clothing Elizabeth had packed—a summery cotton dress with purple flowers. With no plans to socialize, Elizabeth had left her fancier dresses at home. It was the best she could do on short notice. Naturally, Caroline Bingley would appear in a designer frock that cost more than Elizabeth’s monthly rent. Elizabeth bit her lip. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to stay; there’s no doubt the Gardiners and I are out of our element.

  No. Pushing away the negative thoughts, Elizabeth smiled at her reflection, and her eyes brightened. No matter what the other woman thought, Elizabeth was not at Pemberley to compete with Caroline. Will invited me. If he’d wanted to date Caroline, he would have done so long ago.

  Her stomach growled. She had developed an appetite during her time on the beach—which had become particularly energetic after Will had joined in with his high-powered water gun. He’d had surprisingly good aim, but Elizabeth had retaliated once Bing gave her another gun. Her muscles were sore from running around the beach, and her stomach hurt from laughing so much, but it had been a long time since she’d had so much fun. I don’t think I ever heard Will laugh before.

  Her phone trilled, and Elizabeth glanced at the caller ID. Lydia. Damn it. She was very tempted not to answer and ruin her good mood, but Lydia would just keep calling. Might as well get it over with. “Hello?”

  “OMG!” Lydia squealed. “There are pictures of you on the news! You’re like marginally famous.”

  “What?” Elizabeth sank onto the edge of the bed before her knees gave out. “Pictures?”

  “It’s some shot of you getting into the president’s limo. I guess he isn’t too proud and rude after all, huh?”

  “Shit.” Elizabeth buried her head in her palm. Of course, she’d seen people taking pictures but hadn’t considered that they would be newsworthy. In retrospect, it was a rather naïve assumption; the presidential limo surely never picked up people by the side of the road.

  “It’s really not a very flattering picture,” Lydia prattled on. “It’s blurry, and only part of your face is showing. You look constipated.”

  Elizabeth groaned. “Great. I’ve always wanted to look constipated getting into the presidential limo.”

  “Now you can check that off your bucket list,” Lydia chirped.

  Did Lydia even get sarcasm?

  “Did they know my name?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No. They called you ‘unidentified woman.’ I might not have recognized you, but I know that puke-yellow dress you’re wearing. I was jumping up and down over at Tanya’s house and pointing at the TV yelling ‘I know that dress! I told her not to buy that dress!’”

  I’m on national television, and all my sister can do is diss the color of my dress.

  “However, I’m a big enough person to admit that I was wrong. Obviously that color works for you. ‘Cause it’s going to get you laaaaid!” Lydia drew out the last word with a flourish.

  Oh Good Lord, I hope she doesn’t put that on Twitter. “It is not. I’m not getting laid. There is no laying going on,” Elizabeth insisted. “I am staying completely upright.”

  “Has it already happened?” Lydia adopted a knowing tone. “That was quick work. But I shouldn’t be surprised after the Air Force One incid—”

  “Nothing has happened, and nothing will happen,” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth. If she couldn’t convince her sister of that, how could she hope to convince the rest of the world?

  “Riiiight. You get in a limo with a gorgeous guy to play pinochle, whatever that is.”

  “Aunt Maddie and Uncle Thomas are here, too, you know.”

  “Like they’re going to stop you?”

  “We’re just having a fun day at the president’s beach house.”

  “But then comes the night. They have to sleep sometime!” Lydia sing-songed.

  Elizabeth ground her teeth, wishing she hadn’t answered the phone. “Nothing is going to happen between me and the president,” she said in a low, firm voice. “He invited us for dinner and to spend the night, and we’ll go back to the Gardiners’ cabin tomorrow.” She peeked at the clock on the bedside table—already five minutes late to dinner. Damn.

  “If you say so.”

  Why did it have to be Lydia who put all these pieces together? “Just. Don’t. Say. Anything. To. Anyone,” Elizabeth ordered.

  “Aye, captain, whatever you say, captain.” Lydia’s eye roll was practically audible.

  “Just please keep this quiet. Don’t start any rumors. It’s important for a lot of reasons.”

  Lydia sighed heavily. “How long can you keep it hidden anyway with those pictures out there?”

  “There’s nothing to hide. We’re friends. I’m visiting Pemberley with my aunt and uncle. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

  “Yeah, the media will buy that.” Lydia’s tone suggested that she did understand sarcasm. She hung up before Elizabeth could get in another plea.

  ***

  Despite her hunger, Elizabeth only ate part of her dinner. The food was delicious: salmon on a bed of risotto with a red bell pepper sauce. However, she was unsettled by her conversation with Lydia and all too aware of Will’s eyes on her, dark and intent. They had apologized to each other, but what happened next?

  In the foyer, he had appeared quite interested in pursuing some sort of relationship, although she wondered if he could actually get past all the accusations she had hurled at him. He was far more relaxed and friendlier—and he hadn’t blinked at making the Gardiners’ acquaintance. Had he toned down the arrogance because he still harbored a passion for her? And if he did, was it what Elizabeth wanted?

  As a small dinner party, they ate in the “breakfast nook” off the kitchen rather than the formal dining room, which could have accommodated a small village. Self-conscious, Elizabeth spoke little during the meal, and the conversation was carried mainly by the Gardiners, Fitz, and Bing. Caroline made sneering comments about other women’s fashion choices; Elizabeth ignored the implications. Will answered direct questions but avoided getting drawn into any discussions. The conversation mostly centered around the weather and what to do in the Hamptons, yet the atmosphere was decidedly strained.

  Dessert was a mouthwatering mocha cheesecake, but Elizabeth declined a piece as her stomach was a churning mess by then.

  After dinner, everyone gathered for drinks in the living room. With the French doors open, they could hear the distant sounds of the waves on the beach. A gentle breeze brought a faint scent of salt water into the room. Elizabeth sunk gratefully into a white sofa, unable to remain tense in such an environment.

  Will had loosened up after a few drinks. Although his eyes still lingered on her, he was chattier with everyone. When foreign travel became a topic of conversation, Fitz asked Elizabeth about her work in Africa. To her shock, Will rattled off a list of every place she’d been posted during her tenure with the organization.

  “How did you know all that?” she asked.

  He lowered his eyebrows mysteriously. “I have a finely tuned intelligence apparatus at my disposal.”

  “And Google,” Fitz chimed in.

  Will chuckled. “Busted!”

  Elizabeth joined in the laughter, but she wondered: How much time had he spent on Google? All that information could hardly be found in one place. “I don’t know whether to be creeped out or flattered,” she said with a grin.

  “I would prefer flattered,” Will said, a corner of his mouth quirking upward.
“Creepy isn’t the vibe I was hoping for.”

  Fitz nodded knowingly. “Especially not in the eyes of the woman he—” Will coughed loudly. “—Not in the eyes of a pretty woman,” Fitz finished.

  What had Fitz been planning to say? Elizabeth wondered even as she grinned at Fitz to acknowledge the compliment.

  Will leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s quite impressive.” His words were addressed to Fitz, but his eyes were on Elizabeth. “Most field officers have racked up only half the amount of field time by that point in their career.”

  “How do you know that?” Elizabeth blurted out. If the Red Cross kept such statistics, they certainly didn’t publish them.

  “Um…” Will’s gaze fell to the glass in his hand. “I did a little research.”

  “Fitz,” Elizabeth asked with a smile, “would now be a good time to be creeped out?”

  Everybody laughed.

  Before long, Bing announced that he was calling it a night, which prompted a wave of similar proclamations from most of the other guests. Elizabeth considered staying downstairs so she could have a frank talk with Will, but she shuddered at the thought of the knowing looks she’d receive. She didn’t want anyone to believe she was taking advantage of the situation. Lydia’s insinuations had reminded Elizabeth that it was best to put some distance between herself and Will. But a voice at the back of her head asked if she was avoiding the conversation.

  When she stood to follow the Gardiners toward the stairs, Will’s face seemed to darken. But by the time Elizabeth reached her room, she had convinced herself it was simply her imagination.

  ***

  The guest room Elizabeth had picked had a nautical theme as well as white beadboard wainscoting, dark blue linens, and dormer windows. Everything was of the highest quality, but it didn’t feel like part of a billionaire’s home. The room itself was comfortable, almost cozy, and not at all pretentious. So far she’d seen no gold-plated faucets or throne-like chairs. But as she climbed into the four-poster bed, she wondered if she’d ever before slept on sheets with such a high thread count.