A/N: This is my first attempt at writing. As such, I welcome your comments and suggestions. Thanks for reading. :)

Chapter 1

I stood behind a large group of elderly tourists, all clustered together, slowly making their way through the rose garden, at Lauritzen Gardens, in Omaha. The group was probably a bus tour, I surmised, judging by the two tour buses I had spotted in the parking lot.

I listened with half an ear as a tour guide droned on about the finer points of rose gardening, while I pondered the temperature. It had to be at least ninety degrees, and it was humid; unusual for the Friday before Memorial Day weekend. The close confines of the holiday crowd made it seem even warmer than it was. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, and silently thanked heaven that I had chosen to wear a short-sleeved, off-the-shoulder, lace blouse. It was one of the coolest and most comfortable pieces of summer clothing in my limited wardrobe.

I was peering around the edge of the crowd, trying to see if I could politely maneuver my way through, or around the sea of gray-haired tourists, when I heard a loud buzzing noise, and caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. I quickly turned my head and saw a hornet of gargantuan proportions, hovering near my right shoulder. I hate bugs - wasps and hornets, particularly. So, I did the only thing I could do in my horror-stricken state – I muttered a curse, turned, and ran onto the vast expanse of lawn, next to the path. The hornet still chased me, so I kept running, much to the amusement of the garden tour crowd, many of whom, had stopped to watch.

I sprinted all the way to the Victorian garden before I eventually tripped over my own feet and landed face-down in the grass. Flip-flops are not ideal footwear to be caught in when running for one's life. I made a mental note to remember that, should there ever be a zombie apocalypse. I cautiously raised my head and looked around. No hornet. As I breathed a sigh of relief and began to pick myself up off the grass, I felt two strong hands grasp my shoulders from behind and pull me up. Once I was vertical again, I turned to thank whoever had assisted me.

A very tall, handsome, well-built man with neatly-trimmed hair, so dark brown that it almost appeared black, stood before me. He wore dark, aviator sunglasses, blue jeans, and a navy blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up over muscular forearms. He was the living, breathing epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Way out of my petite, history geek league. No, this was the type of man who would typically be seen with a tall, leggy, drop-dead gorgeous brunette, or maybe a svelte, smokin' hot, bleach-blonde bombshell. My head of long, brown hair just reached the man's chest.

"Um…thanks," I mumbled in embarrassment.

"No trouble, Miss," the man replied in a deep, friendly voice with an English accent – the yummy, lilting kind, with the syllables running together, like whiskey over ice. "Are you alright?"

At least, I think that's what he said; his words sounded more like, "Are you reyt?"His voice sounded slightly familiar, too.

"Yeah," I replied airily, trying to pretend that the gorgeous man didn't make me nervous. "There was a hornet. I'm terrified of them." I grimaced. "I guess the fight-or-flight instinct kicked in…thanks, evolution, right?" I joked lamely. I blushed as he continued to stare at me with an unreadable expression. I shrugged and bent down to brush the grass off my light blue skinny jeans. He was still there when I stood up.

"Well, thanks again," I smiled, looking up at him one last time. I hastily swept my ponytail back over my shoulder, adjusted the strap of my small, Marvel Comic, cross-body purse and headed back to the walkway, with no intention of finishing the tour. After all, who knew how many more of those winged little demons lay in wait for me on the grounds? My air-conditioned condo and shower in Omaha's trendy Old Market district were calling me.

As I walked along, mentally muttering to myself, and not paying attention to where I was stepping, the toe of my flip-flop caught on a sprinkler head. I stumbled, but quickly regained my balance and continued walking, hoping that no one had noticed. Just as I reached the path, I felt something brush my wrist. Startled, I looked down, half-expecting to see my enemy, the hornet. Instead, I saw a large hand. My eyes widened as they followed the line of the arm that the hand was attached to, all the way up to the broad shoulders and handsome face of the man who had assisted me. I narrowed my eyes in confusion.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

"Yes," I nodded. "I said I was fine."

"Then, why are you leaving? Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?" he inquired again, concern creasing his sunglass-shaded brow.

"I'm sure," I shook my head. "I live here in Omaha, and I have a membership, so I can come back any time. I just don't want to have another close encounter of the hornet kind," I shuddered at the thought.

"Can I take you home, then?" He arched an eyebrow in question.

I reared my head back in bewildered surprise, threw him an odd look, and resumed walking, puzzled and slightly unnerved by the handsome man's continued attention. I casually quickened my steps toward the visitor center. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had heard the deep, smooth timbre of his voice, before.

"At least let me buy you something to drink or some ice cream at the café inside, please," the stranger insisted, from where he continued to walk beside me.

I tried to suppress the amused smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth and threw him a bewildered glance, instead. I returned my attention to the path ahead of me but slowed my pace. "Look, are you a serial killer, or something? Because this whole situation is remarkably similar to the plot of the last horror movie I watched, and frankly, I can't think of any other legitimate reason why you would be following me," I said, only half joking. I don't believe in dicing words. Life is too short to be anything less than blunt.

The man laughed softly, beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him casually shove his hands into his jeans pockets.

I stopped walking and turned to face him.

"Not a serial killer," he answered, with a shy smile.

I looked him up and down, warily. "Why, then?"

His brows furrowed over his handsome face. "I'm just trying to be nice, I suppose. Besides," he shrugged, "I like a woman who shares an interest in good literature," he grinned, nodding toward my Marvel Comic purse.

The strange familiarity of his voice tugged at the edge of my mind again. "Alright," I conceded, my mouth tightening in resignation. I was too intrigued by the mystery of his identity to refuse. Curiosity killed the cat. "One drink," I qualified. "Elizabeth Bennet." I extended my hand to shake his in a belated introduction.

"Will Darcy," the man answered, taking my hand in his large one.

Unnerved by the tingle I felt when his hand grasped mine, I pulled my hand away as soon as was considered polite.

Ah, that solved the voice mystery. Will Darcy – the handsome, British actor, businessman, and landowner who had made an impact on the British television world, and who had recently played his first, major Hollywood role in a wildly-popular science fiction film franchise. Upon learning who he was and that I – most likely – had nothing to fear, I relaxed and held my neutral expression in check. Luckily, I wasn't one to be star-struck and was less than impressed with the ilk of the rich and famous. I kept all traces of recognition from my face and voice as I replied smoothly, "Nice to meet you."

We continued to walk toward the visitor center, near the entrance of the park. "So," I began conversationally, deciding to play dumb, "Are you new to the area? Judging by your accent, I assume you're not from this side of the pond." I smiled half-heartedly.

"No," Will returned, raising his hand to absently rub the back of his neck, in what appeared to be a nervous gesture. "No, I'm here for a few weeks for work."

"Ah, sounds boring," I smirked. "Of all the places in the United States to be sent for work, you get stuck in Omaha, Nebraska." I absently kicked a piece of gravel on the path in front of me and watched it roll into the grass.

"It's not so bad," he replied, turning to look at me as we walked. "It's not as busy as London, or other large cities. The people are friendly, too."

"Yeah, I suppose there is that," I agreed.

"Are you from here?" he inquired.

"Yep, born and raised," I replied as we reached the door of the visitor center.

Will opened the door for me and gestured for me to enter ahead of him.

"Thanks," I murmured.

"Of course," he nodded in reply.

We stepped into the air-conditioned space and walked through the building, toward the café.

"What would you like?" Will asked, as he stopped by my side in front of the counter and bent down to whisper, close to my ear.

I exhaled slowly to control my reaction to the feeling of his soft, warm breath against the exposed skin of my neck and shoulder. Despite my efforts, a small tingle traveled across my shoulders and straight down to my stomach, where it electrified a swarm of butterflies into flight. "I'll have a Diet Coke," I replied evenly.

"Ice cream?" he asked.

"So long as I'm buying," I answered, turning my head in his direction. "I do, after all, owe you for helping me up."

Will tilted his head to one side. "I believe that scaring you into supposing I was a serial killer would negate that good deed."

I noticed that, as Will relaxed, his speech became less stilted and formal, and I found it increasingly difficult to understand him. His smooth accent caused the words to roll into and over each other, quite unlike the standard 'BBC English' accent that Americans are used to hearing. Thankfully, most of his replies, up to this point, had only consisted of a few words, making it easier to understand him.

I paused a moment to sort through what he had said. "Yeah…sorry about that…it's just that most men aren't that polite. And they certainly don't ask to see me home, or take me out for ice cream," I smirked.

"I insist," Will smiled softly. "My treat."

"Compromise?" I asked.

"That depends," Will straightened to his full height, drawing my eyes up to his angled profile.

I took a deep breath. "If you won't let me buy yours, at least allow me to purchase my own, okay?"

Will grinned.

I swallowed to keep my reaction to his undeniable charm in check.

"Fine, compromise accepted, but only because I don't want to cause a scene." One dark eyebrow twitched downward, as though he winked. I couldn't tell for sure – he still wore his sunglasses.

"Good call," I nodded and stepped up to the counter to place my order.

After we had both ordered our refreshments, I followed Will to a table situated next to one of the tall, deep-set windows of the dining area, overlooking the floral display hall.

He removed his sunglasses and placed them on the table, revealing the dark-lashed, ice blue eyes that had captured the hearts of millions of women around the world.

I quickly turned my gaze away to look out the window and took a long sip of my soda.

"So, what kind of work do you do?" Will asked.

I turned to face him, meeting his blue eyes with my green ones. "I'm a high school history teacher."

He tilted his head to one side, in interest. "You're serious," he stated, sounding surprised.

I rolled my eyes, imagining that he must be silently judging me behind those gorgeous eyes of his. I couldn't really blame him. I got that a lot. I looked considerably younger than my age, and I was often mistaken for a student teacher, at the high school where I taught. "No, I lied," I replied, my voice and facial expression thick with sarcasm. "I play the guitar and dance at a biker bar, down the street." I took a bite of my ice cream.

"Hmm, I'd like to catch that show. Would you mind giving me the address of the pub and the time of your next performance?" he asked with mock seriousness, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I pressed my lips together in irritation, and slowly shook my head. I picked up a napkin from the table and tossed it at him, inadvertently hitting him in the face with it.

Will jerked his head back in surprise and laughed, the sound was deep and warm. "Good Lord, first, you accuse me of a horrendous, premeditated crime, and now, you're throwing the tableware at me."

I didn't reply, but instead, looked down at my chocolate sundae, scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and shrugged, before meeting his eyes again. "Looks that way," I smiled. I popped the ice cream into my mouth. "I am sorry, about the accusation, and the napkin throwing," I added when he continued to stare at me.

Will sighed, seeming to contemplate my apology as he took a bite of his own dessert. "Hmm…I suppose I could forgive you," he paused.

I tensed at his calculating expression.

"If," he emphasized, jabbing his empty spoon in my direction, "you allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow night."

"To dinner tomorrow night?" I repeated, not entirely sure if I had understood him correctly.

Will nodded once in reply.

I shook my head. "Sorry, I'm just having a bit of trouble understanding your accent," I explained. "What kind is it, anyway?"

"Midlands. Derbyshire, to be exact." A smile played around the edges of his mouth, as he waited for my response.

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Not 'why the accent,'" I shook my head. "I mean, why do you want to take me out to dinner? I know that Omaha isn't exactly the entertainment capital of the country, but surely there are better things to do than hang out with me."

Will tipped back his glass of Coke, before answering me. "Oh, I don't know about that." He set his glass down and leaned in toward me, resting his forearms on the tabletop in front of him.

I leaned forward and tilted my head to one side in concentration as if doing so would make it easier to understand him.

"After all," he shrugged, "I'm fairly certain that I could travel coast to coast and still not find a history teacher who enjoys comics, plays guitar, and dances." He paused a moment, his eyes intense, searching mine. "Or one who possesses green eyes that could charm anyone out of all conscience, for that matter," he winked.

I exhaled sharply and scoffed in disbelief. "Says you," I returned, taking a few more bites of ice cream as I thought about how his ice-blue eyes had charmed me into considering his dinner invitation. "I was joking about the guitar playing."

"Mm-hm," Will grinned.

I raised a dubious eyebrow and gave him a look of disapproval.

He leaned back in his seat. "I know. Sorry, but you are fun to tease."

"Super. Should've hit you harder," I muttered, returning my attention to my sundae, which I was surprised to note was almost gone.

Will's eyes narrowed in acknowledgment of my jibe before his expression softened again. "You didn't answer me, you know. Will you allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow evening?"

I sighed in defeat, smiling a little at his persistence. "What time?"

"Is six too early?" he asked, suddenly sounding a bit unsure of himself. He raised his hand to absently rub the back of his neck again. A stark contrast to the confidence he usually portrayed in his roles on screen.

"Six is great," I replied, deciding to give him a break.

"Did you drive here?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I took the bus. I only live a few miles away."

Would you like a ride home?" he asked with the soft smile I was becoming accustomed to.

I shook my head again. "No, that's okay. I'm going to take the bus."

"Please. I just want to see that you reach your home safely. And besides, I need to know where to pick you up tomorrow," he politely insisted. "After all, who knows how many more hornets are lurking about? Wouldn't want you running out into the middle of traffic, should one happen along while you're waiting at the bus stop."

I looked down at my ice cream dish, absently swirling my spoon through the remainder of the chocolate syrup and melted ice cream in the bottom of the plastic bowl. I quickly considered the man seated across from me. I didn't know him, but he was trying to be kind and I felt that, perhaps, I could trust him. I didn't understand his motives, though. As I had observed earlier, Will Darcy was out of my league, and I knew that there was absolutely no way that I would garner the attention of a man who could have any woman he wanted. I mentally weighed his offer of a ride home. Maybe he was acting out of some misguided sense of duty. I didn't much like the idea of getting into a car with a near-stranger, but, if nothing else, I had a can of pepper spray in my purse, if he tried anything.

Right. Like Will Darcy, British heartthrob and multi-millionaire would ever consider me tempting. I mentally shook myself, realizing that I had been silent for quite some time and looked up at Will uncertainly from beneath my lashes, before fully meeting his eyes. "Thank you," I replied, with more confidence than I felt.

"Shall we go, then?" he asked.

"Sure," I nodded once.

We gathered up our bowls, cups, and napkins and threw them in the trash.

Will walked beside me through the visitor center, peppering me with questions about my job as a history teacher.

"What made you decide to teach?" he asked with genuine curiosity in his voice, as he opened the door that led to the large parking lot.

The heat and humidity hit me like a wall, as we stepped outside. "Well, I love learning and I love history. It's interesting and exciting to me, and I enjoy studying it. I believe that knowledge of the past is an essential tool to create a better future. After all, if future generations aren't educated about the past, then they're bound to repeat all of the bad parts of it and glean nothing from the good things humanity has learned over the course of history."

Will nodded thoughtfully in response to my answer as he stopped in front of a black Corvette, with dark tinted windows.

"Yours?" I asked, somehow not a bit surprised.

"An American legend," Will replied, walking around to the driver's side.

"I didn't know rental companies even had these." I eyed the sleek vehicle appreciatively, as I walked to the passenger door.

"You just need to know the right people," Will winked at me from where he stood, on the opposite side of the car.

"Okay, you're not helping your case at all. You make it sound like you're in the mafia, or something," I grinned, as we both opened the doors and ducked inside the car. Well, he ducked – I didn't need to.

"Not quite," Will shook his head, as he buckled his seatbelt.

The close confines of the car and his broad shoulders put us in very close proximity to one another – almost shoulder to shoulder. To cover my nervousness, I turned my head to look out the window before speaking again. "So, you do know that we drive on the other side of the road here, right?" I asked, only slightly joking.

"You're serious?" Will scoffed.

I cleared my throat and lifted my chin. "Just having second thoughts about taking my chances with the hornets, that's all."

I felt his fingers gently brush my cheek, pulling my attention from the window, back to his handsome face. My eyes widened in surprise at his gesture, as a jolt of sensation shot through my jaw and my heart jumped into my throat.

"You're safe with me, Elizabeth. I promise." Sincerity reflected in his voice, and he nodded his head slightly as if to accentuate the honesty of his statement.

I swallowed hard. The backs of his fingers still rested on my cheek.

Will removed his hand and eyes from my face to adjust the rearview mirror, and then he backed out of the parking space.

I released a shaky breath and fisted my hands in my lap, digging my fingernails into my palms – an age-old, nervous habit.

When we reached the entrance of the parking lot, Will looked over at me questioningly. "Where to?"

I nodded to the right of the exit. "Go straight until you hit Tenth Street, then go right, and right again, in about three miles."

There was just enough fast-moving traffic – thousands of people getting off work, excited for the long weekend that served as the official kick-off, of summer – to require all of Will's attention to be riveted to the road, and to carry us expediently to our destination.

"Turn here," I instructed, pointing to the right. "It's three blocks up on the corner, left-hand side of the street."

When we reached the indicated spot, Will parked in one of the spaces in front of my apartment building; a historic, six-floor, brick warehouse that had been converted into trendy apartments and condos. He turned in his seat to face me.

"Thanks again for the help up, and for the ride home." I sincerely meant it.

"Happy to help," he smiled a little. "So," his mesmerizing, blue eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he spoke, "can you give me your mobile number, so I can ring you tomorrow before I pick you up?"

I squinted my eyes as I mentally sorted through his words and determined that 'mobile,' meant cell phone and 'ring,' meant call. "You want my cell phone number so that you can call before you pick me up tomorrow?"

Will looked at me in a way that made me feel like he was doubting my intelligence. "Yes…"

"But, I thought you said you'd pick me up at six o'clock. I'll just meet you in front of the building. There's really no need to give you my number," I shook my head.

He continued to regard me dubiously.

I sighed and leaned my head against the back of the seat. "Okay, fine," I rolled my eyes good-naturedly and proceeded to rattle off my phone number.

Will turned his attention from his scrutiny of my face to his phone screen, and entered my contact information. "Alright, and the address of your flat, so that I remember how to find it is…" he glanced up at the address plaque on the front of the building. "1813 Longbourn Street, flat number…" his voice trailed off questioningly, as he glanced in my direction again.

"That's not important. I'll meet you outside the building, at six tomorrow," I replied, flatly.

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a crooked smile. "So, you trust me enough to give me your mobile number and to let me drive you home," he prodded, in a teasing manner, "but not enough to tell me your flat number?"

"Dang skippy," I held my ground, not backing down from his stare.

"And why is that?" he narrowed his eyes, evidently having fun provoking me.

Two could play that game. "You mean, besides the fact that you coerced me into doing so?"

He tilted his head to one side and lowered an eyebrow, in response.

"Because," I bit the corner of my lower lip and crooked my finger, inviting him to come closer. Will leaned in close enough so that I could whisper in his ear. I ignored the fact that he smelled wonderful…like sandalwood and spice. "Because," I repeated, quietly "I have a can of pepper spray in my purse, and I have full faith in my aim with said weapon."

Will raised his head, and rolled his eyes at me.

I laughed. "Sorry – couldn't resist."

"I'm beginning to gather that," he muttered.

I opened the car door and stepped out of the vehicle, before turning back to thank him. "Thanks again," I smiled.

"Tomorrow. Six o'clock," he reminded me, shooting a pointed look in my direction.

"See ya then." I raised my hand in a small wave and turned to enter the building.