After hours of tossing and turning, she was just as awake as she had been when she’d stretched out on the mattress. Her mind replayed things her day with Darcy: his apology in the limo, the words in the front hallway, his smile in the library. Maybe she should have stayed downstairs to speak with him. Maybe she shouldn’t have accepted the invitation to stay overnight. Then there were the images: memories of his laughter on the beach and his haunting stare at dinner.
One minute she was convinced that he was still interested in her, and goosebumps would form all over her body. The next minute she knew that he could never forgive the awful things she had said to him, and her mood would grow heavy and black. Perhaps he simply wanted them to be better friends. But then there was the conversation in the foyer. She had never looked at a friend that way…
Surely the President of the United States didn’t lack for company; he was constantly surrounded by people. On the other hand, spending most of the day with him had demonstrated how isolated his life was. When every movement required a seven-car motorcade, you weren’t going to drop by the nearest diner to chat up the locals or meet your buddies for some wings. Aside from Fitz and Bing, he didn’t seem to have many friends. Even Caroline was more like a hanger-on than a true companion.
What did Elizabeth even want from him? The thought of a relationship provoked shivers of excitement but also prickles of apprehension. He had been affable and charming today, but everyone was relaxed on vacation. Was the cold and distant William Darcy waiting in the wings, ready to rip out her heart the moment she opened it up to him?
Wait a minute. My heart? What the hell am I thinking? When did my heart become involved?
Elizabeth bolted upright in bed, staring at the opposite wall. She couldn’t possibly feel anything that deep for Will. Why, compared to her last boyfriend…or the one before him…
Oh.
There was no comparison. Will left the others in the dust. She’d loved her previous boyfriends, but never with such intensity, and their breakups had been fairly smooth. There had never before been a guy who had consumed her thoughts from morning to night. At times he filled her mind so completely that there was no room left for anything else.
Oh, God. She embraced her blanket-clad legs and rested her face on her knees. I’m in love with the President of the United States.
Suddenly her heart pounded so violently that it shook her whole body. Her breathing sounded like she had completed a marathon. She laughed humorlessly, the sound muffled by her knees. This would be a disaster. Even if he did want a relationship, so many things stood in the way: his security, his staff, the press, public opinion… Not to mention that he might revert to the proud and difficult President Darcy at any moment.
None of that matters. The die had already been cast. I already gave away my heart. The only question is: What will I do about it?
There was no chance this would end well. His job would someday inevitably divide them. Her heart would be broken. Knowing that, she should run as fast and as far from him as possible. The only problem was she didn’t want to go.
She stared at the wall for a long time, her thoughts tumbling over each other but always running in the same circles. Then her stomach rumbled. I could barely swallow a bite at dinner, and now I’m famished. Ignoring the feelings didn’t work; with every passing minute, her stomach grew more growly. Maybe if I ate something then I could sleep.
The digital clock on the bedside table read 2:08 a.m. It had been more than two hours since everyone had retired for the night, so the downstairs was likely to be empty. Will had said the Secret Service agents remained outside the house at night, and the staff lived offsite. Maybe she could slip downstairs and snatch a sliver of that decadent-looking cheesecake.
At that thought her stomach grumbled loudly. “All right, all right,” she muttered as she pushed the covers aside and slid to the floor. Pausing at the door, she considered pulling her sweatshirt over her tank top and pajama bottoms, but the house was rather stuffy, and she wouldn’t be downstairs very long.
She crept through her door onto the balcony that overlooked the living room. The interior of the house was completely dark; the only illumination was from floodlamps outside shining in through the glass—bright enough to light the way down the curved staircase and into the foyer.
Instinctively she moved quietly as she padded to the kitchen. It was rather silly; nobody slept on this floor, but the quest for food seemed illicit enough that she wanted to disturb as little as possible.
In the kitchen, she switched on the overhead lights. The room was like something out of a contemporary version of Downton Abbey with its gleaming appliances and copious counter space. There were two refrigerators, one so large it had to be designed for restaurants. She found the cheesecake in the smaller unit, and a little searching yielded a plate and utensils. Within a minute she was perched on a stool beside the marble-topped island, savoring a slice of mocha cheesecake that was just as delectable as she had imagined. Elizabeth couldn’t hold back a soft moan.
“Are you all right?”
Elizabeth’s fork clattered to the floor. She whirled around to find Will standing in the doorway, softly illuminated in the yellow glow of the overhead lights. He was wearing long pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that she couldn’t help noticing fit snugly over a chest that was more muscular than a politician’s chest had any right to be. He looked…delicious. Far better than the cheesecake.
His presence had always unsettled her, but her recent realizations had completely stripped away her defenses. She could practically feel the weight of his gaze on her skin. Her cheeks immediately heated. Oh God, I’m blushing. Can he guess what I was thinking about him? She hastily averted her eyes.
He watched her expectantly. Oh, right. He had asked a question. “I’m f-fine—I-I just—” She gestured helplessly at the cheesecake.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Will crossed the room in long, elegant strides until he stood directly in front of her stool. Close enough that she could smell the faint scent of sandalwood. Elizabeth’s breath caught. What would he do?
His eyes dropped to the floor, and he bent to retrieve her fork. Strolling to the far counter, he dropped her fork in the sink and unerringly opening the correct drawer to retrieve another one.
Her eyes were incapable of focusing on anything else in the room as he returned to her stool. She accepted the new fork automatically. “Um,” Elizabeth mumbled, “I-I’m having cheesecake.” Thanks for the update, Captain Obvious.
A slight smile curved up one corner of his mouth. “When you didn’t eat any at dinner, I thought maybe you didn’t care for cheesecake.”
He had noticed? “I love cheesecake. I just didn’t—I wasn’t hungry for it then.” She gave a little laugh that sounded fake to her ears. “But up in my room I could hear it calling my name.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, me, too. I couldn’t forget how good it was. Do you mind if I join you?”
A chill raced down her spine. “Not at all.”
He poured himself a glass of milk and then pulled the cheesecake from the refrigerator. “I always like milk with dessert,” he said. What a ridiculously ordinary fact to know about the leader of the free world.
For some reason, every gesture he made was inordinately fascinating. His hands deftly, competently cut a slice and transferred it to the plate. The cheesecake was smoothly returned to the refrigerator. You know you’ve lost it when watching someone serve cake turns you on.
As Will settled on the stool next to hers, Elizabeth could only stare at his hands. So strong and competent. How would they feel stroking her skin?
“Good,” Will said.
Had he read her mind? “Sorry?”
“The cake is good,” he explained as he chewed. “Very rich.”
Cake. He was talking about cake! Not her skin. Was she beginning to obsess? Did she even need to ask? This was definitely obsession territory.
Elizabeth’s head angled down as she kep
t her attention on the cake. Yeah, okay, I’m in love with the guy, but maybe it’s just a crush. A crush would be better, easier to recover from when things don’t work out. Stop obsessing. Focus on something else. Taking another forkful, she savored the rich mocha flavor, the smooth texture.
I can do this; I can clear out the obsessive thoughts. Obsessive thoughts about the President of the United States. Where the hell had her common sense gone? China?
Will cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to his impossibly handsome face. He seemed to be blushing, but it must have been a trick of the light. “Um…when we get back to D.C…” He swallowed. “Would you have dinner with me one night?”
Did he mean a date? Safer to assume he didn’t. “You mean to talk about refugee issues? Sure. Although I might not be the best-qualified person for a policy discussion—”
“Not to discuss policy.” He cut her off. “Although,” he added hastily, “I mean, we can talk about whatever you want.” Will dropped his head into his hands. “God, I’m babbling.” His nervousness was reassuring.
His head rose, and stormy blue eyes met hers. “Elizabeth, will you go on a date with me?”
“Oh.” Impossible to misinterpret that. At the same time, the world had grown slightly surreal. Is this really happening?
His words rekindled all her internal debates, recalling all the logical reasons why opening her heart was a terrible idea. But he was standing before her, somber gray-blue eyes watching her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. At the moment logic seemed like an alien concept.
Her entire body was vibrating at a very high frequency. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Hear the hitch in his breathing. Feel the warmth from his body. As if her every sense had been magnified. Really, there was only one possible response. “Um, sure, I’d love that,” she heard herself say.
His smile started as a mere quirk of the lips and grew into a broad grin. “I’ll try not to be too proud and difficult.”
She winced. “I never should have said that.”
Darcy shook his head, his lips pressed together. “I deserved it. My parents told me to be compassionate to others…but taught me, through their words and actions, to be proud and judgmental.”
She couldn’t stand one more second of not touching him. Reaching out her hand, she stroked Will’s jawline. “When I said that, I didn’t understand you. You have no improper pride…and I was the one being difficult.”
He held his breath, lips slightly opened, completely immobile as if worried about scaring her away. “Wow,” he said softly.
A second later he slid off his stool, and his lips were on hers.
This kiss wasn’t as good as the one on the airplane. It was better. Much better.
She let go of the reservations, the what-ifs, and focused on the moment. Her mouth opened instantly and his tongue stroked hers, tasting of mocha and milk and the faintest hint of mint. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in the scent of sandalwood and the unique smell that was Will Darcy. He made a sound, deep in the back of his throat, that signaled his desire…and stoked hers.
His hands flowed around her body; one settled on her upper back while the other caressed her lower back teasingly under the edge of her tank top. The slide of skin against skin was addictive. She craved more. And Will obliged. He inched closer to plunder her mouth more thoroughly. She pulled him closer still by wrapping her legs around his hips and drawing him to her body. He hissed out a breath and embraced her more tightly, the force of his passion pushing Elizabeth’s stool until she bumped against the island.
One of his hands caressed her knee and then skimmed up her leg until his fingers were just under the edge of her shorts. Tingles erupted all over her body. Then his lips slid away from hers, and he trailed a series of small kisses down the side of her neck to her collarbone, nudging the strap of her tank top to the side with his nose so he could nuzzle the soft skin of her shoulder. Elizabeth arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest where they met firm muscles. A moan erupted from deep in Will’s throat.
Finally, he twisted his lips away from her shoulder and rested his forehead against hers, panting hard. “Oh my God, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth thought she knew how good kissing could be, but she had been sadly misinformed. There was no comparison. It was as if she were kissing for the first time. “If that’s my reward for agreeing to a date, I can’t imagine what my post-date prize will be,” she whispered, her lips teasing his ear.
“There’s no need to wait,” he said in a rather strangled voice. “We could declare this”—with one hand he gestured to the kitchen and empty cake plates—“to be our first official date.”
“Goodness, Mr. President, you move rather fast,” she murmured.
Grinning wickedly, he stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “A good president is decisive. He decides on a goal and initiates a course of action to attain it.”
She nuzzled his hand, inhaling his delicious scent. “And what is your goal for the evening?” she asked. Her fingers skimmed the length of his spine, provoking shivers from him.
His eyes locked onto hers, dark and intense. “My goal for tonight is to get you into my bed,” he said in a husky voice. “And I am prepared to take any action to achieve that goal. Any action.” His hand traveled more boldly under her shirt even as he watched her with some caution in his eyes. “I hope that coincides with your goals.”
Elizabeth nearly laughed. Did he doubt her interest? Didn’t he know that he was just about irresistible when he was so tender and sweet and unbelievably sexy?
The hand stroking the skin of her back made it difficult to concentrate. “That coincides admirably with my goals,” she murmured, stroking her hand along his biceps.
“We never did complete the house tour,” he said.
She leaned toward him. “I am rather curious to see the master bedroom.”
He kissed his way up her neck. “It is”—kiss—“lovely. I think”—kiss—“you’ll particularly appreciate”—kiss—“the hand-carved mantelpiece.”
She tilted her head back to give him better access. “Mm-hmm…I do love a good mantelpiece.”
“And the slanted beadboard ceiling…” He kissed the soft skin under her jaw.
“Oh, I hope I get a good look at the ceiling…”
His words were emerging in ragged gasps. “And…uh…the bathroom has a tub…carved from a…single piece of marble.”
“Wow…” His lips finally found hers, and for a long moment there were no sounds save for moans of pleasure.
When he pulled away, his eyes were focused on her lips. “And…there’s a…lovely view…out the window…in the morning…when the s-sun rises…” He seemed to be having trouble forming words.
“Maybe I should join you now so I won’t miss it,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard. “How wonderful that our goals coincide.” Will took her hand and led her to the stairs.
Chapter Fifteen
“Cowabunga!”
Elizabeth was startled from a deep sleep by a shout that only gave a second’s warning before someone landed on the bed, sprawling all over her drowsing form.
The bed. Will’s bed. In Will’s bedroom. Where I spent the night. After…
Everything came back to her in a rush. Every detail of the night. Whatever other obstacles she and Will might encounter, a lack of chemistry wasn’t one of them. It had been off the charts.
Pemberley’s master bedroom was enormous, with a vaulted ceiling and huge windows overlooking the ocean. Weak, early morning sunshine peeked in around crisp linen curtains. The enormous canopy bed was of a scale with the room, dwarfing Elizabeth and the bed’s other inhabitant.
I actually slept with the President of the United States.
The thought made her a little lightheaded.
Who just jumped on top of me?
A slight blonde woman squawked at the sight of Elizabeth and quickly scrambled off the end of the bed. W
ill sat up and brushed hair from his eyes. The sheet fell to his waist, providing such a sufficiently distracting sight that Elizabeth momentarily forgot everything else.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” The young woman’s panicked noises drew Elizabeth’s attention. She had turned pink from her face, down her chest, and onto her arms and legs. “Oh my God, Will! I’m so sorry! I thought you were alone—you never—! I didn’t think—oh my God! I’m so, so sorry!
Will ran a hand through his delightfully disheveled hair and gave a bemused chuckle. “Elizabeth, this is my sister Georgiana. Georgie, this is Elizabeth Bennet.”
Georgiana’s mouth formed a perfect “o.” “I thought you said Elizabeth Bennet would never speak to you again. Although I guess you didn’t do a lot of speaking last night.” She immediately clapped both hands over her mouth. “Oh shit, did I say that out loud?”
Will rolled his eyes but gave his sister a fond smile. “Have I mentioned that there’s a reason Georgie doesn’t speak to the press? She was born without a filter. It’s a genetic condition. So sad. The doctors can’t do anything for her.”
Georgiana stuck out her tongue at Will. “You may be president, but you’re still a jerk.”
“Hey! That’s what I said,” Elizabeth chuckled.
She gave Elizabeth an arch look. “I think you and I will get along very well.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, Georgiana held out her hands imploringly. “That is, if I haven’t blown it all with the way I barged in like that. I got here early, and I thought I would surprise Will and…well, he’s usually alone. So I didn’t think—we have this thing, you know, from when I was little where I’d jump on the bed and yell ‘Cowabunga!’ Not that I do it anymore.”
Will cleared his throat meaningfully.
“Not much anymore. And I thought it would be a funny way to wake him up. But the Secret Service didn’t tell me that you weren’t alone.” She frowned at Will. “Why didn’t they warn me you have company? Anyway, that’s how I ended up sneaking into your room and jumping on you. I’m sorry, Elizabeth, I’m not usually this flaky. Although it’s true that I frequently talk too much.” She stopped to catch her breath.
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