President Darcy

“I don’t use the suite much since I’m usually working in the office, but sometimes I nap in here. Fortunately, national crises are scarce today, so we can rest a bit before arriving in Washington.”

Elizabeth had noticed the dim lighting throughout the plane and that passengers were getting comfortable for the night.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asked. “I assure you that the food is several steps above the usual airplane fare.”

“No, thanks. I had dinner.” What the hell is happening here?

“I asked them to stash some sauvignon blanc in here,” he said, standing and opening the cabinets over the desk. “I know it’s your favorite.” When had he noticed that?

As odd as it was to get a personal tour of Air Force One from the president, now things were downright Twilight Zone. She was alone with President Darcy in a room with two beds, and he planned on pouring a bottle of her favorite wine. This was beginning to feel like a date.

An unexpected and totally bizarre date.

Damn. Fitz had said I was “practically taken.” Why didn’t I figure it out earlier? Apparently, the president thought that all he needed to do was crook his finger and she’d come running. What the hell?

Hadn’t anyone thought to consult her on whether she’d like to be “taken” by the president? This wasn’t the Middle Ages, when the king could order a woman into his bed. But maybe that’s the way things worked in this administration. She shivered again.

The president had a reputation for being a straight shooter, respectful of women, and a staunch proponent of women’s rights. She wouldn’t have expected him to be a player. But he also had an extremely loyal staff. They wouldn’t be the first White House staffers to cover up indiscretions.

How many other women had received a “personal” tour of Air Force One that ended in the presidential suite? What a sweet set up for a seduction. No wonder the staffer in the corridor had done a double take.

And Fitz? Oh-so-helpful. Was he the go-between, lining up suitable women? Damn it! Elizabeth had liked him.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Maybe she had done or said something that suggested she was amenable to a dalliance with the president. That would explain his friendliness at the dinner and insistence on giving her a ride. Her breathing sped up. Oh God, what had she gotten herself into?

Her hands began to shake so violently that she had to clasp them together to conceal the tremors. Her gaze bounced all over the room; every muscle in her body readied itself for fight or flight. Fortunately, the president—distracted by the missing wine—remained oblivious to her nerves.

His voice broke into her racing thoughts. “Okay, here are the glasses.” Her eyes followed the glasses rather than the man as he set them on the coffee table. “But I think they forgot the wine.” He winked at her. Winked! “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What am I going to do? She shot to her feet, her ragged breaths echoing in the empty room.

Elizabeth wasn’t a Puritan and wasn’t opposed to a little fooling around on principle. But she’d only slept with guys she was dating. Under other circumstances—with a guy she found attractive…and smart…and articulate—she would consider dating him. Hell, in a lot of ways he was exactly the kind of guy she liked.

But those were the key words, weren’t they? “Under other circumstances.” Attractive, smart, and articulate were worthless without a good character or personal moral principles. Not only was he proud and difficult, but he also had encouraged his friend to dump her sister and had robbed George Wickham of his inheritance.

And now he had brought her to his suite and maybe expected her to put out. Another violent shiver caused Elizabeth to wrap her arms around herself. I’m alone in this tiny room with him and a thousand feet up in the air. Maybe I should leave before he gets back. She took a stumbling step toward the door. But what if I’m wrong? What if he’s just being friendly? He’s Bing’s friend. I’m Jane’s sister. Maybe the president is just catching up…kicking back. He hasn’t done anything inappropriate…

The decision was made for her when President Darcy strolled through the door, triumphantly brandishing a bottle of wine. “I knew we had it!”

He set the bottle next to the glasses as Elizabeth sank back into her seat. Maybe she was being paranoid, misjudging the man. He seemed genuinely happy to have her here. Maybe he just wanted to be friends.

And it’s not like I’m supermodel material. He could seduce anyone—like real supermodels. Why would he want me?

Settling rather close to her on the sofa, the president opened the bottle of wine, splashing some into each glass. The label showed it to be something very good—and very expensive.

The president raised his glass in a toast, and Elizabeth followed suit, a little apprehensive about what he would say. “To friends,” he said simply. Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed as she clinked her glass with his. That was a toast she could get behind.

After taking a sip, she set her glass on the coffee table. The wine was excellent, dry and crisp, but she had no intention of drinking much more. Her eyes surveyed the room, examining the windows, the mural, the sofas—everything except the other inhabitant. “This is exciting,” she said. “Very few people get to see this. I feel very privileged. My sisters will be so jealous. My parents will be so excited to tell their friends.” You’re babbling, Elizabeth. Stop it. She took a breath. “Thank you for showing me around.”

“My pleasure,” he said in a low voice.

It wasn’t her imagination. He was leaning closer to her. His warm breath brushed her neck. A hint of spicy aftershave teased her nose.

“There is something I need to tell you, Elizabeth.” His voice was husky.

Oh no. “Y-Yes?” She stared at the wine glass, not wanting to look at him when their faces were inches apart.

“I am very attracted to you—since we first met.” His voice sunk to a lower register. “Very attracted to you.”