President Darcy

The obvious answer was that he didn’t want her to know about his attraction to her, but it went deeper. Under her gaze he felt like everything had been stripped away, and he stood naked before her. He shuddered. That wasn’t even the most unnerving part of the experience. No, the thing that had him most rattled was that he rather liked it. He seemed to enjoy the idea of being dissected for her amusement.

Maybe she could already discern the flaws in his character, and wasn’t that a terrifying thought? At the same time he almost wanted her to get a glimpse of his secret fears and vices. Why on earth would he want something so torturous?

It's me, he decided. I’m easier with her around. She makes jokes I laugh at. It had taken all his willpower not to laugh aloud at her CIA-flavored jest. She treats me with…not disrespect…more like irreverence. He hadn’t known that was something he needed.

What a relief to learn that the mega-dweeb she entered the room with wasn’t her boyfriend! She’s a distraction. I should avoid events where she will be present. No…no…that would be rude…

Darcy’s chair jostled as Bing fell into the seat next to his. Jane gave her boyfriend a quick smile, laying her clutch on the table. “I need to find Lizzy.”

“Hurry back,” Bing said huskily. Darcy rolled his eyes.

After Jane disappeared, his best friend looked at Darcy. “I expected you to still be dancing with Elizabeth. I had to sit down because of my knee, but you could keep going.” Bing had a high-school soccer injury that troubled him occasionally.

Oh, I wish…. Darcy shook his head. “One dance was enough.”

“But—”

“There will be pictures of her on all the sites tomorrow. You know I only ever dance once with each woman.” The words emerged more sharply than he intended.

“I thought you might make an exception for Elizabeth.”

What was Bing getting at? Covering for his discomposure, Darcy gulped water from the glass in front of him. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you like her.”

Darcy nearly choked on the water. “What?”

Bing was unrepentant. “You like her—more than anyone I’ve seen you with since college. In fact, you like her more than anyone. Period.”

“I can’t date while I’m in the White House.”

“I didn’t set up those rules,” Bing countered.

“No. I—”

“Hello, gentlemen.” Caroline Bingley’s nasal voice broke into their conversation as she inserted herself beside Bing. Darcy hastily averted his eyes; he wasn’t about to pursue that topic in Caroline’s presence.

“What have we here?” Jane’s cell phone had slid out of her clutch and rested on the table before Caroline.

Bing scowled and reached for the phone. “It’s rude to read other people’s texts.”

Caroline deftly grabbed it before he did. “Rude?” She read the screen, giving Bing a triumphant look. “Wouldn’t you like to know what the texts say about you?”

Bing hesitated but then shook his head. “No.”

“I think you do.” She smirked. “The text is from Fanny Bennet. I suppose that’s her mother—what a name!” Caroline cleared her throat and read in a passable imitation of F

anny Bennet’s screechy soprano. “Jane, very clever of you to find a way to stay overnight at the White House. Bing seems to like you so much. I’m sure we’ll hear wedding bells soon.”

She tossed the cell phone back on the table triumphantly. Bing had gone still and pale. Darcy’s stomach churned; he had thought Jane—like Elizabeth—was superior to her crass family. “Maybe it’s not what it seems like,” he suggested gently.

Bing gave a humorless laugh. “Or maybe it’s exactly what it seems like: she faked a back injury to stay at the White House and solidify her hold over me.”

The text from her mother was rather damning.

“It’s the money,” Caroline said.

“But they’re rich!” Bing exclaimed.