Chapter 9: A Pucker for the Boy Next Door
The lunch line at Starbucks was tiresomely long as usual, so Elizabeth took the time to decide on a muffin flavor in addition to her coffee.
When she was still three customers away from the front, she felt a small splash of hot liquid hit the side of her leg and a distinctly British "Bloody Hell" escape from the culprit's mouth.
Hearing the accent briefly brought back her long morning with PNC, and how draining it had been to stay in a room with him for a full two and a half hours. By the end of the meeting, it had become disturbingly obvious that his stare was the result of his further scrutiny of her. Seriously, what the hell is his problem? Every nerve in her body had willed her to walk out from under that penetrating gaze; to tell him that she didn't need his good opinion as she poured that horrid coffee drink in his lap. As fun as that had been to imagine, in the end it would never happen: she refused to ever let him get the better of her.
She could admit that a small additional inducement to stay had been the errant curl that fell exhilaratingly close to his silver eye; the one that had utilized an extensive amount of willpower not to reach across the table and brush back into place. OK. Lizzy, stop it. You're know that you're only creating additional torture for yourself - you're his 'sloppy seconds', remember? It's never going to happen. Be grateful that the mandatory meeting you knew was coming is now officially in the past.
She was interrupted in her recollections by a bright pair of blue eyes and a hand gently touching her arm. "Are you alright Miss? I am so sorry – I did not mean to fumble my coffee right on you. Although…I can absolutely see why my coffee chose to head in your direction."
She met the eyes with her own. A smile graced the man's features, and Lizzy couldn't help but notice the eagerness and openness in his face as he looked back at her. His light brown hair was tussled in an intentionally messy way. Quite the boy next door…well, the British boy next door. She smiled.
"I'm fine. Thank you for checking." Gesturing to the puddle on the floor, "I'm sorry that you lost your coffee. It's never a good day when that happens."
"Oh, well, perhaps on most days you're right. But on this particular day I don't think that I could quite agree with you."
Lizzy could only manage a questioning raise of her eyebrow in response.
"You see, if it hadn't fallen, I wouldn't have the pleasure of meeting you. Greg Wickham at your service, Miss?"
Elizabeth had to acknowledge that she could get used to these British manners in her life…well, most of them anyway. "Miss Bennet. Elizabeth Bennet."
He grabbed her hand and almost made a bow over it. "Wonderful to meet you, Miss Bennet. Might I treat you to something in payment for your splattered shoes?"
She eyed him cautiously. Just then, Jane's voice came clear into her mind. "I'm afraid you'll never find him if you continue keeping men at arm's length. There's always gonna be risk, but the rewards are worth it."
"I think I would like that."
Half an hour later, Greg and Elizabeth were seated by the store window, both laughing about a ridiculous story she was telling involving her mother and a lottery ticket she had thought contained the winning mega million numbers.
She glanced at the time on her cell phone. "I'm so sorry to end this, but I must get back to work. It was nice to meet you Greg."
"I understand. It really has been a pleasure Elizabeth." He looked uncertainly at his shoes before looking back up. "Listen, would you do me the honor of giving me your number? I would really like to be able to speak with you again sometime."
Arms length. Fear. Risk. Rewards. Got it. Deep Breath. "Of course. Give me your cell phone and I will type it in for you."
Elizabeth Bennet walked back to Lucas Media and for the first time since Friday, thoughts of Will Darcy - either good or bad - did not cross her mind for at least half an hour.
William Darcy exited the private elevator to his penthouse examining the hand that was still trembling three hours later. What was that? Her fingertips had brushed his for a mere fraction of a second and his entire body responded in a way that could only be described as electric. Thank god he had been looking down when it happened; there would have been no way to hide his response if he hadn't been. Sighing heavily, he walked over to the decanter on his liquor bar. A warm cognac and the view of Central Park through his floor to ceiling windows always provided calm and clarity when his mind was racing.
Except lately, he had to admit. He was in the midst of an internal struggle set off by one Elizabeth Bennet. Ever since meeting her at his company's event three days ago, he had attempted to solve the ageless dilemma of mixing business and romantic pleasure, with absolutely no success.
The result was waking early on Monday with an untamable desire to simply see her again. A quick phone call assured him that her schedule was cleared and that he would be a welcome visitor to Lucas Media that morning. He had denied himself the pleasure of her company over coffee, and attempted to rectify that decision by bringing some to the newly-scheduled meeting. Hoping to give her a treat, he had purchased one of the most expensive items on the Starbucks menu.
In his mind, he had already settled that the purpose of this meeting was 90% business. There was much to be done regarding the new campaign, and she was the one who would set it all in motion once given his directions. He had already told her that he would be in to see her this week; his coming should be no surprise.
However, he also had a personal mission: after thinking about Elizabeth Bennet all weekend, he realized that more drastic measures were going to be necessary to keep his usual self-control in place. He acknowledged openly to himself that he was going to her workplace Monday morning determined to find fault with her. It didn't matter what the faults were exactly – he just needed to find some so that he could finally remove her from his mind. Once he found the cracks in the ridiculous pedestal that his heart had so quickly placed her on, it surely would not be long before she fell from it, and everything could proceed normally and appropriately for a business relationship.
Fortunately, the fact that he found her utterly captivating only helped him further along in his purpose; examining her closely ensured that it wasn't long before he began to succeed at his goal. The first fault he noticed was the fact that she arrived to the office ten minutes late. He would never tolerate such behavior from a manager who should be setting the example for others.
The second fault was the misplaced smile she had tried to hide during their meeting. She had obviously suffered from a lack of concentration and didn't even have the presence of mind to conceal it properly.
The third fault was the fact that she didn't finish her coffee, which since he had bought it for her, it would only have been polite for her to drink at least half of it.
William Darcy was proud of himself - he had noticed more than he expected to. There was only one… well, three small problems.
Her dash into the office had lent brightness to her complexion and a captivating energy to her person that was impossible to ignore. The hidden smile provided a beautiful flush to her cheek, and her fine eyes sparkled when they again looked up at him under their dark lashes. And that blasted coffee – oh that he hadn't brought it at all. After taking her first sip, a perfectly positioned pucker of a lipstick stain sat taunting him for the remainder of the meeting. Joined with the fact that she would occasionally run her delicate fingers around the rim when she was in thought or focusing on the materials in front of her, his mind's eye had too easily envisioned that it was his fingers tenderly tracing the delicate lines of her sensuous lips, just before pulling her to him and kissing her senseless right across and onto the conference room table.
Where had his carefully cultivated principles gone in that fantasy? Damn that coffee. You know what? To hell with it.