Every month Caroline probably spent thousands on her appearance: mani/pedis, moisturizers, facials, masks, gym memberships, makeup, hair stylists, and clothing. Elizabeth might have been wearing some lip gloss, but he wasn’t sure. She should be a plain jane next to Caroline’s buffed and polished perfection, but Darcy had the opposite reaction. Elizabeth appeared real, genuine, and human while Caroline’s beauty exuded a look-but-don’t-touch vibe so strong that she might as well have been on the movie screen.
The two women were in the middle of a discussion when he arrived. “You are the only major star who hasn’t agreed to participate in the program…”
Ah, Elizabeth must be trying to convince Caroline to mentor one of the homeless teens. He could have told her not to bother. Caroline was incapable of guilt—since that would first require her to care. And really it was for the best. A few days with Caroline would not be good for any teen’s mental health.
“Hello, Will,” Caroline greeted him languidly. “Beth is trying to convince me to join the mentoring program, but there’s minimal press coverage.”
A muscle in Elizabeth’s jaw clenched. “The primary purpose isn’t PR; it’s to help these kids.”
Caroline stretched like a cat in the sun, displaying her perfect figure. “I’m not sure it’s worth my time.”
Darcy couldn’t help staring at Elizabeth’s legs, long and smooth and perfect. He dropped onto the vacant space beside her on the lounge chair. She flinched a little. Perhaps touching him was too great a temptation.
“It’s a pretty minimal time commitment,” Elizabeth said.
Caroline gave Elizabeth her haughtiest glare. “It’s all very well for you, but some of us weren’t cut out to be the do-gooder type.”
Elizabeth gave her a level look. “I thought everyone was the do-gooder type. Unless you’re like the second coming of Hitler.”
Darcy tilted his head toward Caroline. “I suppose that is a possibility.”
Caroline gave him a poisonous smile. “Ha, fucking, ha.”
Elizabeth laughed, so Darcy didn’t mind. “How is your mentoring working out, Will?” she asked him.
Caroline sat up. “You call him Will?” she sneered from behind her sunglasses.
“What else should I call him?”
“Mr. Darcy. He’s an award-winning movie star, and you’re a PA. Really.”
Elizabeth turned a faux smile on Darcy. “Or would you prefer ‘your majesty’?”
Darcy would have cheerfully strangled Caroline. “Will is fine. Will is perfect.”
He couldn’t help noticing a bead of perspiration trickling down Elizabeth’s neck and disappearing into her cleavage. Don’t stare. Don’t stare. He was staring. He could only pray he wasn’t blushing.
Fortunately, Elizabeth didn’t seem to notice his fixation. “You had Garrett with you for a whole week, didn’t you?” She gestured to Caroline. “Not that you need to take someone that long.”
Caroline nibbled her olive. “I bet you’re glad that’s done.”
Hanging with Caroline was beginning to feel more and more like rubbing sandpaper over his skin. Not only did she treat Elizabeth like a peon, but she was also wrong about the program.
“Actually,” Darcy said, “Garrett will be returning on Monday.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “You are a glutton for punishment,” she drawled.
“Not at all. I actually hired him to be my new personal assistant.”
Both women gaped at him. “What happened to Kurt?” Caroline asked.
“I told the supervisor that I no longer needed Kurt’s services, so he will be returned to the general PA pool. If they keep him on.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Caroline asked.
“I know you liked him,” Darcy said to her, “but he was terrible at his job. I think he was stoned a lot of the time.”
“But he was always so polite and well dressed. You’re replacing him with this…this homeless kid?” Caroline sniffed.
Darcy sighed. He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to Caroline, but he did it anyway. “Garrett shadowed Kurt for two days. By the third, he was better at Kurt’s job than Kurt was.”
Elizabeth gave Darcy a teasing smile that provoked thoughts of kisses and laughter. “So, there’s actually some compassion lurking under that gruff movie-star cynicism.”
Darcy shook his head. She couldn’t get the wrong idea about him. “Please! Do not think for one second that I will go about kissing babies and saving kittens.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your street cred.”
Darcy just kept explaining. “This was a practical move. Garrett is better at the job, and he was available immediately.”
A corner of her mouth quirked upward. “If that’s what you want the world to believe…”
“And you want the world to believe I hired him because I felt sorry for him. That would be a big success for your program.” Darcy regarded her with narrowed eyes. “We’re all ultimately self-serving, aren’t we?”
“It seems like you’re drinking the goody-two-shoes Kool Aid, too,” Caroline scoffed. “Will you be hugging trees and building houses next?”
Darcy was stung. He wasn’t a square; he just played one in the movie. “This had nothing to do with altruism,” he said with as superior a tone as he could manage. “I did my bit for True Colors, and now I’m finished. I simply hired the best person for this job.” Darcy shrugged.
“You do seem to go through personal assistants at a rather rapid rate.” A cool smile touched Elizabeth’s lips.
Damn, he had set her up for that quip. “I have every reason to believe that this one is finally up to the task,” he replied.
“Ooh! Burn!” Caroline made a sizzling noise and then laughed.
Darcy rubbed the back of his neck. He shouldn’t have said that. Elizabeth had a crush on him; she didn’t deserve the sharp edge of his wit.
Watching him with an amused expression, Elizabeth didn’t appear to be hurt.
One of the models wearing a barely-there bikini sauntered past and gave Darcy a sultry smile. A piece of paper tumbled out of her hand and landed in his lap, although the model kept walking. Caroline nodded knowingly, but Elizabeth peered over Darcy’s shoulder while he opened the scrap. A name and phone number were written inside.
Darcy crumpled up the paper and tossed it on the ground; he wouldn’t want Elizabeth to think he would take the woman up on her offer.
Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “I want to shout after her, ‘Have some self-respect!’ I mean, she doesn’t even know you.”
He shrugged; such things lost the power to shock him long ago. “Sleeping with me would make her feel like she’s arrived—she’s part of this world.”
“Why? For what purpose?”
Darcy couldn’t help frowning. Doesn’t she understand? Doesn’t she see the way everyone stares at me? “That’s the way of the world. Everyone wants this life. Everyone wants to be us.”
Elizabeth eyes widened. “Wow! Ego much?”
Caroline laughed. “Don’t front, girl. You want this life just as much as anyone else.”
Elizabeth’s lip curled as she regarded the other woman. “I want to be offered an anonymous shag by the side of a pool? I have greater ambitions than that.” Caroline smirked, but Elizabeth plunged ahead. “Do you see yourself? Why in the world would I want that?”
Caroline made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the posh surroundings, the beautiful people, the designer clothing. “Why wouldn’t you? This is everyone’s dream.”
“Some of us have different dreams.”
What on earth does she mean by that? Darcy wondered. But Caroline’s laugh drew his attention. “Maybe you think you might want something else. That you’re the next combination of Meryl Streep and Mother Theresa. But deep down, this is what you want, too.”
Elizabeth’s scornful gaze raked over both Caroline and Darcy. “You know what I want…deep down? To l
eave this party. If you’ll excuse me.” Before Darcy could say anything, Elizabeth had jumped to her feet and was briskly walking away.
He watched as she paused on the other side of the pool to talk with Charlie and Jane. Surely those words were directed at Caroline, not him. She wasn’t lumping him in with Caroline, right? Elizabeth understood that he was different. He had done the charity program after all—and he wanted to leave the party, too.
Maybe what I really want is to be more like Elizabeth Bennet.
Caroline smirked. “That’s the most pathetic case of denial I’ve ever seen.” She took a sip of her drink. “But I suppose it makes it easier for her to polish that halo.”
Her words sank in with a bit of relief. Of course, Elizabeth wasn’t rejecting this life—wasn’t rejecting him. She was just trying to preserve her ego. He had met actors before who would claim that they didn’t need fame and fortune; they were just doing it for “the love of the craft.” But he hadn’t seen anyone yet turn down a million-dollar paycheck.
Still, Elizabeth deserved to be defended. “But I’m glad there’s somebody doing stuff like that. Kids like Garrett obviously need help.”
Caroline flicked a piece of lint off her swimsuit. “Don’t succumb to the guilt trip. You’ve already done enough. It’s not like Beth really cared if you mentor some queer kid.”
Darcy frowned. “What do you mean?”
Caroline regarded him over the rim of her sunglasses. “Are you kidding, Will? Don’t you notice how she drools over you? Someone should buy her a bib. She’s just hoping you’ll spend more time with her. It’s not about the kids; it’s about her.” She slid her sunglasses up to cover her eyes. “Rather pathetic, really.”
That did make sense. Women flirted with him. Maybe Elizabeth was just being less obvious about it. She had a crush; she flirted. Maybe she was angry that Will didn’t return her interest.
He rolled his shoulders and sighed. At least this was familiar territory. He’d given the “I just want to be friends” speech to countless women.
Why did the thought of giving it to Elizabeth make him feel so…hollow?
Caroline flipped onto her stomach. “Will you put some sunscreen on my back? I don’t want to burn.”
Darcy couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.
***
Elizabeth was sick of Hollywood, sick of the people, sick of the stupid parties. Every time she thought that maybe someone might be a decent person, Hollywood threw that belief back in her face. Why was she still hoping? She wasn’t at all sure that a decent person like Jane could be happy in the viper-filled swamp of the movie industry.
She hadn’t actually expected that Caroline Bingley would suddenly develop a conscience, but William Darcy had shown occasional sparks of human decency. Maybe that had been an act. Now he seemed once more preoccupied with his own importance.
In her hurry to leave the pool deck, she slammed her way past bikini-clad beauties and lounge chairs that seemed to have multiplied. It was frustrating. If you tried to help others, you’re a do-gooder; if you mind your own business, you’re selfish and elitist.
Elizabeth wasn’t naïve. She obviously couldn’t solve the problem of homelessness, but she did believe they could improve the lives of a few kids. Will and Caroline acted like she was a fool for believing it. And Elizabeth let them. She didn’t know if she was angrier at them or at herself.
Although it was clear that Jane and Charlie had some Very Important Making Out to do, Elizabeth had thanked her host and told her sister she was leaving. She was now free to make her desperate getaway from the kind of glamorous Hollywood party that people dreamed about.
To her left, an attractive, well-built actor was standing on a pool chair yelling, “I’m the king of the world!” and pouring beer over his head. So much glamour.
The problem was William Darcy, she mused. He scoffed at the “crap” in the screenplay, and yet she still expected him to be better than a world-revolves-around-me asshole. Sorry, Will Darcy, I must have confused you with Eric Thorne. Now I realize you’re not a decent human being; you just play one in the movies.
Why did Will Darcy always put her so off-balance? At times he was almost likeable, and she could imagine becoming his friend. At other times she wanted to kick him in the shins.
There was no mystery about why she liked him. He was gorgeous, with dark hair, lips that promised secrets, and blue eyes that seemed to see all the way to her soul. It was simply magnetism and hormones. Cultural programming and a cute butt.
Which was like walking into a field of land mines for Elizabeth. Having a woman like her find him attractive was nothing to Darcy. He probably didn’t even notice. But Elizabeth…she had to be extremely cautious where she stepped. Otherwise, she’d be so dazzled by his beauty and charm that soon she’d be at the bottom of a crater, a pile of broken bones.
He was so dangerous they should swathe him in caution tape.
All right, she vowed, I’ll be more careful. I’ll avoid him. I’ll deal with him on a strictly professional level. I won’t ignore the warning signs.
Elizabeth yanked open one of the French doors, wishing she could leave immediately, but she should check on Lydia. God knows her sister wouldn’t appreciate it, but she really shouldn’t be left to her own devices in this environment.
Elizabeth quickly spotted her, turning away from the bar with two more drinks in her hands. Thank God George isn’t around. “Is that more whiskey?” she asked. “Lydia, don’t you think you should slow down?”
Lydia’s bloodshot eyes focused on Elizabeth briefly. “It’s scotch…Scottish scotch. You know, I thought I wouldn’t like this stotch scuff…scotch stuff”—she giggled—“but the more I drink it, the better it gets. I think I’m developing a taste for it.”
Elizabeth prayed for strength. “That is not a good thing.” She took her sister’s elbow. “I think you’ve had enough. How about I drive you home?”
Lydia gaped at her. “Why would I leave now? I haven’t even been in the pool.”
“You’re drunk.”
Lydia shrugged so violently she nearly toppled over. “So? I’m nineteen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at my age?”
“You’re underage!”
“Like that means anything. If I were in college, I’d be going to frat parties.”
Elizabeth tried a different tack. “You’re going to feel lousy in the morning. Let me take you home.”
Lydia raised her chin. “No, I have to take George his drink.”
Elizabeth rubbed her hands over her face. “George doesn’t need more booze either.”
Lydia swayed closer to her sister and glared. “You are such a prude! It’s good you’re leaving Hollywood. No one wants to party with Debbie Downer!”
“I just want you to be safe.”
Lydia nodded knowingly. “You’re jealous that George likes me more.”
Oh good lord. “I don’t want George, and he’s too old for you.” Jeez, now I really sound like I’m sixty.
“Old? Lizzy, he’s twenty-four. That’s only five years older than me! He’s not some old fogey like Darcy.”
Elizabeth winced. What had Lydia noticed? “Darcy’s not old.”
Lydia snickered. “Of course, you like him. He’s a complete bore.” She put on an affected English accent. “Look at me; I’m Darcy. I only do Masterpiece Theatre.”
“You’ve been panting over Darcy for weeks.”
Lydia shrugged. “Yeah, I’d totally hit that, but he’s still a fogey.”
“I don’t like Will—not like that.” She took the drinks from Lydia’s unresisting hands and set them on a nearby table. “You’re plastered, and soon you’re going to feel like someone took a blender to your innards.”
Lydia giggled. “I have a plan for that.”
“A plan?”
“George is an EMT, right? So if the booze makes me sick, he’ll take care of me. He knows all that first-aid stuff. He can even help if I nee
d a defibbul…defillub…you know, one of those things where they shout ‘clear’ and it goes ‘ZZZ!’” She demonstrated with some dramatic gestures that drew attention from nearby partygoers.
“Don’t you think you should go home before that happens?”
“I don’t know.” Lydia put a finger to her lips in a parody of innocent confusion. “Do you know how to use a de-filla-bator?”
“I do. And moreover, I know how to locate water and aspirin, which is what you will need in the morning.” Elizabeth tried to steer her sister to the door.
Lydia rolled her eyes so hard that it looked like it hurt. “You are not my mother! Jeez, Lizzy. Leave me alone.”
She pulled her arm from Elizabeth’s grasp and grabbed one of the glasses, spilling half the scotch on her arm. But after taking two lurching steps away from her sister, Lydia stumbled to a halt. “I don’t feel so good.”
Uh-oh.
Fortunately, Elizabeth recalled the location of the bathroom and navigated Lydia into it before the vomiting started. When she stopped retching, Lydia gasped. “Maybe I had too much to drink.”
You think?
“Perhaps you did, honey.” Elizabeth stroked her sister’s hair reassuringly. Now was not the time to lecture her about the evils of drinking. Lydia probably wouldn’t even remember the conversation. “Can I take you home?”
Lydia nodded shakily. “I don’t want George to see me like this.”
I suppose it doesn’t matter if she does the right thing for the wrong reason. She put her shoulder under one of Lydia’s arms. “Here we go.”
But Lydia wouldn’t budge. “If I go home, Dad will see me.”
“So?” Their father wouldn’t chastise Lydia; both parents were far too lenient on their youngest daughter. They would probably laugh it off as “networking.”
“He’ll give me a look!”
Elizabeth was tempted to laugh, but she knew what Lydia meant. Their father was the king of sarcastic expressions.
“You can come home with me,” she told her sister. “Jane won’t be coming home tonight.” She’d been spending a lot of time at Charlie’s place recently. “You can sleep in her bed.”
Darcy in Hollywood Page 12
