Kissing Mr. Darcy

by Shéa R. MacLeod

“Give me your phone.”

  I handed it to him. His fingers danced across the screen before handing it back. I glanced at the screen. There was a picture of him, and next to it his name: Kyle. Below that, his telephone number.

  “Text me,” he said. “Soon.” And then he walked away without a backward glance.

  “THAT’S SO SWOONY,” Kev giggled, all but swinging from the handrail. We were inside the Tube headed home, and Kev was more than a little drunk.

  I shrugged, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. “He is pretty hot.”

  He gave me a knowing look. “You don’t seem very excited.”

  I sighed. “Well, see, I’m still kind of hoping Titus will ask me out. I honestly can’t figure out why he hasn’t yet.” I slid Kev a look. “Other than that British thing.” I frowned. “Or maybe he’s gay.”

  Kev snorted inelegantly. “Not from where I’m sitting, sister. He doesn’t sound gay. Not at all.”

  “How would you know? You’ve never met the guy.”

  “Yes, but you told me about him,” he said, tapping me on the nose. A sudden sway of the car almost got me a finger in the eyeball. “It’s enough. You’d know if he was gay. Trust me.”

  “Well, maybe he’s married.”

  “Now that one’s beyond me. Still, I don’t see the problem. Kyle asked you out. Titus didn’t. Easy peasy.”

  “Yeah, but what if Titus does? I really like him.”

  Kev looked baffled. “If he does, go out with him. Duh.”

  “But I can’t date two guys at one time!” I wailed, earning me disgusted looks from a middle-aged woman across the aisle.

  “Why not? I do it all the time. Honey, listen to Auntie Kev. Until the man asks you to be exclusive, you can’t count on being exclusive. Don’t make the mistake of putting all your eggs in one basket. Trust me. Been there, done that.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It feels weird.”

  “Not like you’re married to either guy. Besides, may I remind you, Titus hasn’t asked you out, and you’re too chicken to ask him?”

  “Am not.”

  “Are so.” He stuck out his tongue like a two-year-old, and we both dissolved into giggles.

  I guessed Kev was right. I shouldn’t count my Mr. Darcys before they hatched. Why not go out with Kyle? What was the harm?

  I quickly sent Kyle a text to which he responded almost immediately. With a future date set up I sat back with a smile. Things were definitely looking up.

  Chapter 9

  “WE MEET AGAIN.” TITUS sank into the seat next to me in Professor McGillicudy’s lecture hall. His light blond hair was in one of those ridiculous man buns I found oddly sexy. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple days, but the bit of rough looked good on him. He gave me a devilish smile, dimples flashing.

  My heart gave a little lurch before kicking into high gear. Stupid heart. I reminded myself I had a date with Kyle. But Titus was sitting there all delicious and yummy, and I could hardly catch my breath. I promptly forgot all about Kyle.

  “Hi,” I said. My voice came out more like a squeak than anything resembling sexy or sophisticated. I quickly turned to the front of the room, desperately willing my blush to subside. In my mind I rewrote the scene with me saying something clever so he was the one swooning at my feet instead of the other way around.

  I thought he was about to say something, but McGillicudy came storming in, slammed a backpack on her desk, and bellowed, “All right, class, let’s get started. If you didn’t read the required material you might as well leave now. I’ve got no time for shenanigans. Let’s talk literature.”

  About midway through the class, Titus subtly slid a folded piece of paper onto the keyboard of my laptop. I unfolded it, hiding a smile at what was inside. Written in block letters were the words:

  Will you go to drinks with me?

  Yes or No

  Holding back a laugh, I took my pen and circled “Yes.” Then I carefully refolded the note and slipped it across to his desk. I saw him grinning out of the corner of my eye. He wrote something furiously and slid the note back. What were we? In second grade? Still, I sort of liked it. All right, I really liked it. It was fun and kind of romantic in a goopy way.

  Under his previous message he’d written:

  Tonight?

  With a grin I wrote:

  Yes. 6pm. Hound and Hart in Notting Hill.

  The Hound and Hart was a pub not far from my house and a short ride by Tube from the school. I figured if Titus wanted a date, he could come to me. That way, if it turned out to be a dud, I could run home.

  The message back was:

  You’re on.

  “OH, FOR GOODNESS SAKE!” My voice echoed in the small bathroom as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

  “Something wrong, Emma?” Kev’s voice came from the other side of the door.

  Wrapping my robe around me, I flung the door open. “I just double booked.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “I’m meeting Titus at the Hound and Hart at six.”

  “Sounds good. What’s the problem?”

  “I’m also meeting Kyle at the Hound and Hart.”

  Kev snickered. “Tonight?”

  “At seven. Fiddlesticks. What am I going to do?”

  Kev was snorting with laughter. “Oh, girl, you really screwed the pooch, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did, and you’ve been watching American telly again.”

  He shrugged. “So, sue me.”

  “Help me here. What should I do?” I was starting to panic.

  “First, finish getting ready for your dates. It’s five o’clock, and you’ll be late if you don’t get a move on.”

  “Not helping,” I said, scowling at him.

  He grinned wickedly. “You won’t believe how much I’m enjoying this.”

  “Keeeeev,” I whined.

  “Right. Here’s what you do.” He steered me toward my bedroom. “I am your wingman, remember? So, you go meet Titus at six as planned. A few minutes before seven, I’ll show up and act all surprised or whatnot to see you there. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, and I’ll distract Titus while you meet Kyle and give him some excuse as to why you want to go elsewhere. Tell him your ex is inside or something. Get him to wait outside. Then come back in give Titus a smooch. Claim you have an emergency. Kate needs you or something. You take off for your date with Kyle, and I’ll entertain Titus for a bit. Talk up how wonderful you are and convince him to ask you out again. There, done.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” I groaned, pulling a navy blue dress with ruffles along the bottom and a hot pink belt out of the wardrobe. It showed just enough cleavage to be sexy without being over the top.

  “Oh, honey, believe me, it’s not. Juggling multiple men is a nightmare. Clearly you need practice. Luckily, I’ve got a PhD in this sort of thing.” Kev waggled his eyebrows.

  Thank goodness for that. I was going to need all the help I could get.

  TITUS LOOKED RIDICULOUSLY sexy and totally hot in faded jeans and a distressed black leather jacket. At some point the jacket had been slung over the back of his chair, and his tight white T-shirt showed off the kind of muscles that fuel fantasies way beyond anything Jane Austen ever imagined. I was getting more than a little flustered and seriously couldn’t remember any of our conversation. I seemed to be holding up my end, though, since he wasn’t giving me funny looks.

  I tried to resist glancing at the time. Kev had promised he would be my wingman, and I had to trust him.

  “You all right?” Titus asked, giving me a funny look.

  “Huh?” I blinked. “I mean, yes, of course.”

  “You seem distracted.”

  Doggonit! He’d noticed. Of course he had. He’d have to be blind and stupid not to. I scrambled for a believable lie. .“I was thinking about our test Monday. I’m a little worried about it.” Well, that was certainly true.

  He shrugged. “It’ll be fine. You’ve studied, r
ight? You’re smart. You’ll nail this.”

  I preened a little under his attention, pleased by his compliments. Silly, perhaps, but there’s something about a man noticing you’re not just pretty but also smart that really gets a girl’s juices going. Or maybe that’s just me.

  “Emma!” A squeal from halfway across the pub startled me. “Fancy meeting you here.” Kev embraced me in a flurry of pink cotton and expensive cologne. He was pushing the whole flamboyant thing to the nth degree, which cracked me up. I tried hard not to giggle.

  “Hi, Kev. This is my, ah, friend, Titus. Titus, my roommate, Kev.”

  Kev plopped into a seat at the table without asking. He waggled his ginger brows at Titus and gave a little finger wave. “So, where’s little Emma been keeping a big, sexy drink of water like you?”

  I almost spewed my drink across the table. Titus looked nonplussed. My instinct was to defend poor Titus, but I didn’t dare interfere with Kev’s plan or he’d have my head. Murmuring something about powdering my nose, I took off for the ladies room.

  Fortunately the pub was crowded, so instead of taking the dim hall to the bathrooms, I veered off toward the front door without Titus noticing. I was steps away when it opened and in walked Kyle. My heart thudded to a stop before picking up the pace, hammering against my breastbone like a wild thing. I wasn’t sure if it was because Kyle was looking especially delicious in black slacks and a blue button-down shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, or if it was because I was worried Titus would see me talking to another guy and figure something was up.

  “Emma.” Kyle greeted me with a warm smile. He leaned down and gave me the cheek kissy thing British people do, his lips lightly brushing my skin. I was in too much of a panic to notice.

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing his arm and steering him to the door. “It’s kind of crowded in here. Why don’t you wait outside? I’ll grab my stuff and join you. We can go somewhere a little quieter.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, then paused, gazing over my shoulder. I knew someone was standing behind me, and I had a bad feeling I knew who that someone was.

  “Emma?”

  How had Titus seen us? Why hadn’t Kev stopped him? I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath, and turned to face him.

  “Titus.” I gave him a weak smile. He wasn’t smiling back. “Um, why don’t you go back to the table, and I’ll, uh...”

  “You’ll what?” The look he gave me wasn’t friendly. “Flirt with half the pub?”

  “Hey, mate. No need to talk to the lady that way.” Kyle stepped up, playing the outraged gentleman. Crap. This couldn’t possibly get worse.

  What was I thinking? It could totally get worse.

  “Who the hell are you, mate?” Titus demanded, eyes glittering with anger.

  “I’m her date.”

  Snorted. “Really?” Titus gave me a dirty look. “I thought I was her date. Guess she likes to leave her options open. Good luck with her.” And with that he stormed past me and Kyle, and out the door.

  Kyle had gone totally still. He glared at me. “Exactly how many men are you dating tonight?”

  “Listen, Kyle. It isn’t like it sounds. I can explain.”

  “Don’t bother.” And then he, too, was gone, leaving me standing there alone like an idiot. I whirled around to find Kev and instead found myself staring into a pair of sapphire eyes. Nik. He would happen along at the moment my dating life went to heck in a handbasket.

  “Looks like you got yourself into a bit of a pickle,” he said, amusement coloring his words. The corners of his lips twitched.

  “You think this is funny, don’t you?” I snapped in irritation.

  “Of course I do. You tried to play the field and got busted.”

  “It’s not like that.” Actually, it was exactly like that, although it hadn’t been entirely on purpose.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Okay. Why don’t I buy you a drink, and you tell me what it’s like.”

  I scowled. “Seriously? Men!” Leaving him chuckling behind me, I stormed off into the night.

  Mr. Poker Face

  NIK REMINDED ME OF Darren, one of my many dating disasters. I don’t suppose it was fair to make that comparison. Nik had never done anything wrong to me. It was just that devilish, carefree smile, the sexy bedroom eyes, and the fact he didn’t have a real job.

  Darren was a friend of a friend, and she—the friend—thought we’d be perfect together. I reluctantly agreed to a date after said friend badgered me half to death. Darren picked me up in his beat-up 1996 Ford Ranger that stank of gas and had springs poking me through the seat. By the time we got to the restaurant, I was sick from the fumes, and I had a bruise on my backside the size of a small country.

  The restaurant was in a low-rent neighborhood with seriously shady characters wandering the streets, but Darren ushered me past them without a second glance. Inside, we were seated at a table in the middle of the restaurant. The plastic tablecloth was red-and-white checked, and the fake flowers in the center needed a good dusting. The food was decent, and I started to relax and enjoy myself. At least until the accordion player arrived.

  The rotund man had about three strands of hair on his head and an enormous black moustache. The minute he saw us, he made a beeline for our table, looming over me while he struck up a chord. He played with a flourish and, worse, sang along to Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” Next thing I knew, Darren had joined in. It was like Karaoke from Hell. I stared at my plate, willing our singing waiter to leave. Quickly.

  After he left I could finally hear myself think, but I couldn’t think of a thing to talk about. I was too embarrassed. Darren just grinned at me, preening at the anemic applause from the other patrons.

  “You know,” he said, “I thought about pursuing music as a career. I really could have been a big star, I think. But I like something with a bit more edge to it. I like a real challenge.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t imagine what could be more challenging than trying to make it in the music industry. “What do you do?”

  “I play online poker.”

  Was that synonymous with “gambling addict?” Because that didn’t sound great. “That’s your only job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there money in that?”

  “Oh, there can be,” he assured me. “I’ve met guys online who make thousands a day.”

  And I had a bridge in Arizona to sell. “Well, that’s... interesting. I take it you’re not making thousands a day.”

  “Not yet. But give it time.” He seemed smugly confident.

  At some point I excused myself to use the restroom. When I came back, he completely ignored me. He was too busy chatting up the girls at the next table, bragging about his poker playing, awesome voice, and various semi-famous acquaintances (who I’d never heard of). After several minutes I was getting sympathetic looks from the girls. I wasn’t sure if that pissed me off more than getting ignored by my date or not. I waved over the waiter (not the singing one) and asked for the check.

  Darren made a big deal over giving the waiter his credit card, making sure everyone saw it was a gold card. “I got this, babe,” he said loudly, gaze sliding toward the girls at the next table. “I know how to treat a woman right.”

  I guess if treating a girl right meant ignoring her, embarrassing her, and flirting with other women in front of her, then yeah. He was a star.

  The waiter came back with an apologetic look. “Sir, I’m sorry, but your card has been declined.” He handed the well-worn plastic to Darren, who shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Guess my latest winnings haven’t come in. Sometimes it takes a while. Babe, will you get it?”

  I ground my teeth and dug in my purse while I calculated my portion of the bill in my head. I handed the waiter a twenty. “This should be enough to cover my half and a tip.” I stood up, gathering my purse and jacket.

  Darren frowned. “What about the rest? Somebody’s got to pay that.”


  I shot him a deadly look. “Guess you’ll have to wash dishes.”

  Then I strode out the door and down the street past the dodgy characters. It took me two hours to get home on the bus, but I’d rather ride home with smelly drunk people on public transit than spend one more minute with that loser. I never did find out if he had to wash dishes.

  Chapter 10

  “I THOUGHT YOU HAD MY back last night.” I glared at Kev over my morning cup of tea. He was making instant coffee. I repressed a shiver of horror.

  “Yeah, about that.” He gave me a shamefaced look. “Titus told me he had to use the toilet.”

  “So you let him?”

  “What was I supposed to do? Throw myself on him?”

  “That would have been a start,” I muttered, still annoyed with Kev for getting me into that pickle. It might not have been entirely his fault, but I really shouldn’t have listened to him.

  “Please, girl.” He gave me a shooing motion. “I had the presence of mind to follow him. Unfortunately I got waylaid.”

  “By whom?”

  He grimaced. “An ex. Believe me, he was the last person on Earth I wanted to talk to, but I couldn’t very well be rude now, could I?”

  “I don’t see why not,” I huffed. “You promised. And now it’s a big, fat mess.”

  “Well, that’s what you get dating two men at the same time.”

  Steam poured out my ears, and I was this close to lobbing the sugar bowl at his head. “You’re the one who told me to,” I all but shrieked.

  “Yes, well, it’s obvious you should never listen to me where men are involved. I mean, look at my love life. Hot mess.” He shook his head sorrowfully and sipped at his coffee.

  I made a growling sound.

  “Here, have more tea.” He sloshed hot water into my mug. I glared at him. “You’re just going to have to do a little damage control is all. Don’t worry so much, luv.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Oh, honey, I never said it would be easy.”