She gave him a level look. “According to you, we weren’t really together.”
Charlie opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. Jane took advantage of his momentary silence to stalk into the building.
***
Elizabeth threaded her way through the pack of trailers on the set. Will’s was one of the more opulent ones, with a sleek gold-and-black paint job. Juggling a plate and soda can, she knocked on the door and braced herself for Darcy’s brand of unpleasantness. She had only visited his trailer a few times and never alone.
Even by Hollywood standards, it was quite opulent, with mahogany wood details and high-end appliances in the kitchen. An enormous leather sectional faced a fifty-inch flat screen attached to a sophisticated gaming system—the dream man cave. The whole thing was significantly bigger—and far better furnished—than Elizabeth’s apartment.
She knocked again. Will had been needed for an early scene and would shoot one later. God knew what he was doing in the meantime; probably napping. Out of the blue he’d texted her a request for sandwiches, presumably because Garrett was away or busy.
She could think of seventeen more productive things to be doing at that minute, and three urgent tasks had cropped up while she had been collecting Will’s food. But, no, she had to drop everything to personally deliver Mr. Darcy’s sandwich. Was this some kind of silly revenge because she had quit as his personal assistant? Or maybe he’d fired Garrett. That would probably be better for the poor kid, who would end up with a warped view of reality from hanging with William Darcy.
She knocked again. Maybe this was some stupid prank, and he wasn’t actually in his trailer. Finally, the door drifted open, and Elizabeth pushed her way in.
And stopped, frozen in the doorway.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Will Darcy wasn’t wearing a shirt.
And his chest was…
Right.
There.
Somehow it was bigger than on any movie screen. He really was that cut, part of her brain noticed, while another part just drooled. Muscles so well-defined you could use them to open envelopes.
And the jeans he wore should be illegal, the way they clung to his tightly muscled legs. The top button was undone, making her think about what was under…
Gah! No, look up. Look up! Away from his body. Face. Face. Face!
But that wasn’t any safer.
He brushed some hair from his eyes, drawing attention to the muscles rippling under the skin of his arm and chest. Just the right amount of chest hair: a sprinkling that got darker and thicker as it led down to…
No, can’t let my eyes wander down there. Really, I should close them. That would be safest, right? But then how would I escape from the trailer? This was almost comical. She would laugh about it if she weren’t so inclined to gawk.
How had it gotten so hot in the trailer? Maybe the air conditioning had stopped working. Her eyes opened of their own volition and were again fixed on his chest. She yanked her gaze up to his face, where the dimples were out in force and a lock of dark hair curled over his forehead.
And then his lips curved into a smile.
Damn it! He was yanking her chain. He was enjoying the effect he had on her. Like she needed to have his physical beauty rubbed in her face. What was his point? Demonstrating that he was more attractive? She was aware, thank you very much.
Anger doused her ardor with cold water.
Averting her gaze, she thrust the paper plate in his direction. “Here’s your sandwich.”
He backed away, refusing to take it and trying to draw her further into the trailer. She wasn’t about to play games; instead, she set the plate and cup on the table by the door and turned to leave.
“Wait!”
She froze with her back to him, staring at the asphalt and grass outside the door. So close…
“Why don’t you…um…sit? Take a load off for a minute?” When she peered over her shoulder, he gestured to the ridiculously large, overstuffed leather sofa. “You’ve probably been on your feet for hours.”
“No, thanks. I’ve got a million things to do.”
“Ten minutes,” he coaxed. “You guys get run ragged all over the set. I feel bad about it. You came all this way to bring me a sandwich. The least I can do is give you a break and something to drink.”
She was already shaking her head when his hand, firm and warm, closed over the bare skin of her upper arm. Ohhhh. That touch. His fingers on her skin… She wanted to beg him to touch her other places, too. In fact, he could touch her just about anywhere she had skin.
“Come on…” He tugged her gently toward the sofa, and she was incapable of resisting, sinking down onto the cushions—even while one part of her mind noted that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
Only then did she see the bottle of white wine in an ice bucket and two glasses. Without waiting for an answer, Will poured one and handed it to her. She took it automatically, sipped it, noting absently that it was a fabulous vintage, and put the glass on the coffee table.
He poured a glass for himself and then sat on the sofa—not on the far end. Not in the middle. No, he seated himself on an otherwise empty sofa near enough to Elizabeth that their thighs touched.
Elizabeth struggled to process all of this. Why was he behaving so strangely? But her brain was fogged, sluggish. Was he pumping out some kind of mind-numbing pheromones? Well, duh, look at him! Of course, he had super strength pheromones. They would go with the chest-of-every-woman’s-dreams.
“How is the True Colors project going?” he asked, unwrapping the sandwich.
Why was her mouth suddenly so dry? She had to swallow before words would emerge. “I think it’s going well. Fifteen of the kids have mentors, who all seem happy to have them around longer than we expected. They seem to be getting a lot out of it.”
“That’s great. You’ve done a terrific job.” He took a bite of the sandwich.
She kept her eyes fixed on the bottle of wine—far safer than even the slightest glance in his direction. Silence stretched between them. There was probably something she could say, but her mind was blank.
What was this all about? Calling her here. Wine and glasses ready. The lack of shirt. The empty trailer. The soft sofa. It screamed seduction attempt.
But…why would he bother? She wasn’t a movie star or a model or a producer he needed to impress. He had women—literally—standing by the studio gate hoping just to catch a glimpse of him. He didn’t need to bother seducing anyone, least of all the personal assistant he’d dissed as being unattractive and stupid.
After taking another bite, Will set the sandwich down on the coffee table. “Look, Elizabeth, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Um, have you ever been to a film premiere?”
Holy non sequitur Batman! “Um, yeah, I went to the premieres of my dad’s movies, but, you know, they were low-key.”
He regarded her intently as if he had something very important on his mind. She found it hard to tear her gaze from his eyes. “Would you like to go to a real Hollywood premiere, with a red carpet and everything? I need a date for The Ice Queen’s Castle, and I was wondering if you’d go with me.”
The words hung in the air for a moment as Elizabeth’s brain slowly absorbed them. He wanted…a date? That’s what this was about? She had assumed he wanted a roll in the hay, here in the trailer.
Wait! He wants me? ME? To accompany him to a premiere? She suppressed an urge to search for hidden cameras in case she was part of a bizarre reality TV show.
“R-Really?” she asked. “Your date?”
“Yeah.” He leaned toward her. At this distance his eyes were the clearest blue—like the sky on a cloudless summer day. “I’d be honored if you’d be my date.”
Only a few inches separated them. Damn, it would be hard to say no to that chest. To those eyes. But she needed to think coherently, rationally. Or at all.
With an effort of will, she turne
d her head away from his mesmerizing beauty and said the first thing that came into her head. “B-But you don’t even like me.”
He laughed softly. “What gave you that idea? The truth is that I find you very intriguing. We could have a great time.”
I intrigue him? The thought got stuck in her head, not allowing other thoughts through, like a paper jam in a printer.
He closed the distance between them and lowered his lips to hers. They came together like fire and lightning, a sizzling heat igniting. Elizabeth knew she would get burned, but she couldn’t help herself. The kiss was like a drug, and Elizabeth couldn’t get enough. His scent enveloped her. His hands closed on her waist, one dipping down to—
The sensation awakened some previously buried protective instincts. What the hell am I doing?
Elizabeth pushed him away so hard that he bounced against the sofa cushions. “What is this? Seduce the PA Day? It wasn’t marked on my calendar.”
That’s it: sarcasm. Sarcasm would be her weapon in this otherwise bewildering situation.
Will pulled himself into a seated position, the dumbfounded shock on his face so profound that she stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry if I moved too fast,” he said. “But I find you so attractive…”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly as if that could somehow shut out words that were all too seductive. God, she’d love to believe that William Darcy, of all men, found her attractive.
But Elizabeth possessed a mirror. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would inspire a second glance from a guy like him. She didn’t know why he was peddling this crap. Strike that; she did know: he wanted to get her into bed. Maybe he was simply horny, and she was the closest available single female. Anyone would do in a pinch.
If you wanted a fish, you baited the hook with a worm. If you want a woman, you bait the hook with a date on the red carpet and a few compliments. Fury blazed through her veins.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said to him in a low, venomous voice.
He seemed genuinely shocked, but she reminded herself that he’s an actor. “I’m not— Maybe you’re not conventionally beautiful like some of the women in Hollywood, but I genuinely find you attractive. Please believe me.”
“Why should I?” Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest as if they would somehow protect her.
“I invited you on a date!” Now he sounded a little aggrieved. “I don’t do that with just anyone, you know. Most of the women I’m seen with are rising stars. And you’re not, but I like spending time with you. You’re funny, and you treat me like a human being, not a superhero.”
Elizabeth’s heart melted a little. Clearly William wanted to be loved for who he was. “But…but…you told Charlie that I was unattractive and not very bright.”
He winced. “You heard that. God, I am so sorry. I-I think I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t find you attractive since you were my personal assistant.” A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Obviously that was an epic fail.”
Elizabeth realized that her body was already leaning toward him. Each word just melted the walls around her heart a little more. Maybe she should just pluck it from her chest and hand it to him.
“I don’t believe I’ve found any woman this attractive in a long time.” Those impossibly sky-blue eyes were focused on her, nobody else. And she could do nothing other than drink in the sight of him, inhale his scent, feel his hand on her arm…
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t thinking of anything serious. Just one night.”
Her heart hurled itself right back into the cavity in her chest with such force that she nearly gasped. “One night?” she echoed incredulously. “In your bed?”
He gave her a lopsided smile; God, that was charming. “If that’s where we end up.”
Oh, the arrogance of the man knew no bounds. “Just to be clear: you’re not inviting me for a date; you’re inviting me for a one-night stand.”
He seemed nonplussed. “I wouldn’t put it that way. I mean, there would be dinner and the premiere—”
“I don’t believe this.”
He had the panicked expression of a man who saw exactly what he wanted slip through his grasp. “If you want more than one night, we can…negotiate that.”
She wondered how many women he had used that line on. “Negotiate?”
“It’s just that…if I’m going to be seen with a woman regularly, it needs to be someone with, um, star quality. You know?” He gestured helplessly, his eyes begging her to understand.
Wow. He managed to insult me while inviting me on a date. Really, he should stick with having screenwriters craft his lines for him. “Why don’t we just sign a contract while we’re at it?”
“That’s not necessary. Though my manager might want you to sign an NDA.” Apparently he struggles with sarcasm.
What kind of a life must he have if he seriously considers contracts for someone he dates? Well, it’s a life I want no part of. Elizabeth edged toward the door. “Don’t put yourself to the trouble. I don’t want to go on a date with you.”
He looked so blank that for a moment she wasn’t sure he had heard her. “You just want to sleep together?” he asked.
“Argh! No. I don’t want to do anything with you!”
His mouth hung open. “But…you have a crush on me!”
“I do?” Now her mouth was hanging open. “It must have escaped my notice.”
“B-But on the set you’re always, you know, watching me.”
Elizabeth wondered if her face reflected the full horror she felt. “Oh my God. You actually believe every woman in the country wants to sleep with you.”
“Well…a large percentage of them…yeah.” There was that charming, lopsided smile again.
“Then go find one of them!” She gestured wildly to the outside world. “There are plenty of women who don’t know what your family did to George.”
She might as well have slapped him. “George…Wickham? What did he tell you?”
“Enough,” she hissed.
His face was flushed with anger. “So, this is all for poor George’s sake.”
“Don’t fool yourself. I hadn’t known you a day before I knew you were the last man in the world I’d sleep with.”
Will’s entire body stiffened.
She gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I don’t suppose anyone’s ever said that to you. It’s probably good for you. Builds character.”
“I thought…at least…for the sake of your career…”
“My career? What do you have to do with my career?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “If you want to be an actor, like it or not, you need to be seen with the right people.”
“I don’t want to be an actor.” Her tone reflected her confusion.
He gestured impatiently. “Or a director or producer. Whatever you want to do in Hollywood.”
“I don’t want to do anything in Hollywood.”
His head jerked back in surprise.
“I’m going to medical school in the fall, hopefully somewhere very far away from California. I just took the PA job to earn some money—and because I believe in this movie.”
“Y-You’re leaving?” he stammered. “B-But I thought…your whole family…” His voice trailed off.
She experienced a flicker of sympathy for him. “Yeah, I’m the black sheep. The one they don’t mention. I don’t want to go into the family business. In fact, I hate Hollywood.”
He lifted his chin. “That doesn’t mean you can’t come to the premiere with me. We could have some fun. Or we could so something else. Dinner? A show? A picnic?”
The image of William Darcy, in his bespoke suit on a checkered picnic blanket in a park, nearly provoked her to laughter. He really thinks he likes me. The realization made her stomach plummet. How did that happen when I did everything possible to push him away? She averted her eyes from his achingly beautiful face, focusing on the door. “No, I can’t.”
�
�Can’t we at least give it a chance and see where it goes?” His voice had lost its earlier suave assurance and was rough with desperation.
This is the man who called you ugly and stupid, she reminded herself. “No.”
“Why not?”
The words flew out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. “Because I don’t even like you.”
He jerked as if she had shot him with a gun. The room was silent for a moment. “Okay…that’s a good reason,” he said finally.
Elizabeth stared down at her shaking hands. Had she been too cruel? She desperately wanted to escape the oppressively awkward atmosphere in the trailer. Surely there was nothing else she could do. If she stayed, she might soften the blow a little more, but it was still a blow.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing if he could hear her, and slipped through the door, escaping to the outside.
Chapter Ten
Darcy didn’t know how long he sat on the sofa simply staring at the wall. His thoughts careened wildly from one extreme to another.
I can’t believe she shot me down.
She’ll regret it.
How did I make such a fool of myself?
Why did I think she liked me?
What the hell is wrong with her anyway? All I did was invite her on a date.
Maybe she likes someone else.
What a debacle.
What if she tells someone about this?
What if she puts it on social media?
She doesn’t deserve me.
I don’t deserve her.
She sees right through me.
Why does this bother me so much?
Why did this bother him? Why couldn’t he move past it? Of course, he hadn’t been shot down by a woman in a long time…maybe ever. But was that why he found it so disturbing? He’d certainly dated some women who weren’t into him. A few years ago, Mira Curry had even cheated on him, telling him that he made a lousy boyfriend. His pride had been wounded, but he had mostly cared about keeping the details out of the press.
He wasn’t even dating Elizabeth. Why did her rejection leave such a gaping, black void in his chest?
She didn’t want to be seen with him.
Darcy in Hollywood Page 14
