Compulsively Mr. Darcy (15 page)

“Go for the jugular.” Anne studied the background report in front of her.

Too bad the CEO didn't practice that. What a waste of one of the most astute business minds she'd known. No matter. Soon, she'd convince him to see things her way… once they became partners in everything. She flicked at a spot on her sleeve. She'd reduce Richard's one-third share to nothing—if for nothing else, for ruining her evening two weeks ago at the Frick.

She had been having a great evening until he'd shown up. Darcy had been so appreciative of all her hard work and apologized profusely for arriving late. He had thanked her publicly and stressed to the other museum board members he could not do without the hard work of his valuable vice president Anne de Bourgh.

Later, as they walked around the reception hall thanking the other contributors and patrons, Anne saw his one-time girlfriend Helena's eyes gleam with envy and jealousy when Darcy and Anne stood in front of Helena and her date. Two years previously, at a similar event in this same museum, the ex–beauty queen had been at Darcy's side as his date. Distracted by Richard waving at him across the room, Darcy blanked and greeted his old flame as “Elena” before correcting himself. He excused himself to talk to his cousin. Anne followed. Richard's date was some dark-haired woman wearing an oriental costume.

When they reached the couple, Darcy touched the woman's arm. “Enjoying yourself, love? Richard's keeping you entertained?”

Anne managed to prevent her gasp from escaping. It suddenly clicked for her who the woman might be, given the exotic costume. With a brightly colored chopstick sticking out from a twisted bun on top of her head, the woman looked out of place. Loose strands of hair draped across her neck, giving her a too casual appearance considering the formality of the evening.

The woman laughed. “He's trying to give me an education on art, but he knows less than I do.”

“Just because I mixed up a few artists and paintings,” Richard grumbled.

“Love, let me introduce you to my other cousin. This is Anne de Bourgh. She steps in as PTF's representative when I'm not around,” Darcy said. “Anne, this is Dr. Elizabeth Bennet.”

Anne forced herself to make pleasant talk to the woman, even when Darcy suggested that the other two stick close. “I want to introduce Elizabeth to some—”

“No way,” Richard cut in. “Trust me, Doc, you don't want to meet these pretentious drones who go on and on about boring art and how their money supports it. I should know; I spend enough time with these bores at work.” He grinned at Darcy's frown. “I'm going to show her the rest of the building.”

“Okay, but don't leave the museum,” Darcy said. “Elizabeth has to be at work early tomorrow.”

“And of course, you'd want her home to bed early to get some rest,” Richard said with a malicious glance at Anne. “I'll make sure Anne gets home safely so you can get Elizabeth home to have her… uh… rest.”

Darcy winked and returned the woman's smile before Richard pulled her away. Darcy's eyes followed the two until they disappeared. Anne glanced around and stiffened when she encountered the pity in Helena's knowing eyes.

On the ride home, she had to suffer Richard's taunt. “Cinderelly, do you have a penthouse suite with a bevy of young princes waiting, or should I drop you off at evil Stepmama's? Is she in town now or at her castle in England?”

She ignored him.

“Speaking of the penthouse suite, this Elizabeth must be someone special, because that's not where he's taking her tonight. She's staying at his home, with his sister and Mrs. Reynolds.” He whistled. “Lucky dog, a big happy family with three adoring women. Perhaps I'll talk him into deeding his penthouse suite over to me. For sure he has no further need of it.”

She had to clench her fists so she wouldn't be tempted to slap him.

“Who'd ever have thought, after all that he had done to make doctors and hospitals more accountable and be a pest to the AMA, Darce is now getting tender loving care from a doc of all people. We should tell the malpractice plaintiff lawyers in town they're losing their best friend.”

Richard's last words that night replayed in Anne's mind. Her eyes returned to the report in on her desk. She spotted an item: Member of American Medical Association.

She smiled. She had found a vein to draw blood from.

***

Elizabeth lifted up her right arm and squinted at her armpit. Using tweezers, she plucked a hair. She had learned this hair removal trick in Vietnam. Shaving irritated her skin, and she often did not bother. Who would notice or care? But now, someone would notice, and she didn't want him to.

“Next, I'm going to be getting a Brazilian wax job, whatever that is,” she mumbled as she stood in the master bathroom. The natural lighting there was better than in her bathroom for peering at your armpits.

For William's sake, she had asked for a separate bathroom for herself. After one glance at the neat rows of old T-shirts hanging in evenly spaced precision in his immaculate closet, she had also insisted on separate closets.

He was out on a long run with Richard in Central Park. She decided to take this rare free Sunday morning to make herself beautiful for him, to celebrate their almost two-week anniversary of living together. With Mrs. Reynolds's help, she was also going to cook an English meal for him tonight. Now that she was getting married, Elizabeth had the urge to be like her mother, cooking and fussing over her man.

Two more weeks and her intense work month would be over. She'd be able to spend more time with him. She still had not set foot inside DDF. Once, during a rare afternoon off, she had called him at work and asked for a tour but he had said he had better things to show her at home.

And he did that afternoon—and most every night. As soon as the door to the master suite closed for the night, he would show her how much he had missed her that day. She giggled. For such a reticent man, he sure expressed himself most energetically in the bedroom.

Her thought turned to how, and likely with whom, he had come by his proficient lovemaking skills. Uninvited, the image of the slim, toned, and fit body of a beautiful woman from his past appeared—the one who'd kept staring at him at the Frick. When Elizabeth asked Richard who the woman was, he stammered she was an event organizer named Helena and tried to change the subject. Elizabeth instinctively knew then Helena had a history with William.

She studied herself in the bathroom mirror. Her breasts were too big, she decided, wishing she had the pert small chest of ballet dancers she admired. She pivoted a quarter turn and swept her eyes over her back view. Her hips protruded too much. If only she had Jane's willowy shape or the slim elegance of Georgiana.

She heard an intake of breath. Startled, she saw William's face reflected in the mirror. Mortified to be caught grooming her armpits, she blushed and tried to surreptitiously hide the tweezers.

With an indescribable expression in his eyes, he stepped into the room.

“You're not supposed to be back yet. I'm not done preparing—”

His tongue in her mouth stopped her words. When he lifted his lips from her, she melted against the counter, dazed. He turned her around so that she faced the mirror. A trail of kisses traveled down her spine. His hands cupped her soft globes and he knelt down.

“I love this bodacious bum,” he whispered and traced the curves with his tongue. He gently nipped her.

Aroused, she gasped.

He immediately pulled back, concerned, “Did I hurt—”

“No.” She twisted her body to press her pelvis toward him. Spreading her legs, he eagerly placed himself between them. Her head lolled against the mirror and the hard edge of the marble counter dug into her back, but she didn't complain. The dancing of his tongue as it darted and flicked between her legs had scrambled her senses.

When she at last became aware of her surroundings, she stared in surprise as she recognized the light fixture on the ceiling. Did she just have an orgasm on a bathroom counter?

“Now, you're prepared.” With a self-satisfied smile, he undressed then opened a drawer. Small packets of foil flew as he impatiently reached for a condom packet.

She stood and tried to help but he shook his head. He turned her around again and positioned her face down over the counter. Her eyes widened. They weren't moving to the bedroom. Taking hold of her left leg, he lifted and bent it to rest her knee on the marble edge. One male hand reached and his fingers caressed and spread her lips.

“You're so ready for me. You drive me wild with need, my beautiful Lizzy,” he whispered and withdrew his fingers. Lifting her hips slightly upward, he entered her and withdrew his fingers at the same time.

She could tell he tried to restrain himself with his gentle initial thrusting. She squeezed her pelvic muscles during one thrust to encourage him to let go, and he growled his pleasure in response. She did it again. He responded with a harder and faster pace.

She raised her head to the mirror. With his face clenching in concentration, a lock of hair falling over his forehead, and sweat running down his temple, he was a beautiful man in his passion.

Closing her eyes, she let herself suspend in the rapture of his primal mating dance. She screamed his name with her second climax. A few thrusts later, he shouted for divinity when he followed her. They both collapsed onto the counter.

Satisfied that her imperfect body could make him lose his control and his inhibition, she smiled. After a few moments, conscious of his weight on her, she wiggled.

He immediately lifted himself off her back and helped her up. He kissed her shoulder before he released her. “I'm sorry, love. I was such an animal, I didn't even give you a chance to say hello.”

She touched his face. “Hello.”

“You're done early today. Not too tired? Did you get some sleep? Did the patients you worried about do okay last night?”

“No, not too tired, and yes, I got some sleep in the doctor's lounge. My patients did fine. I got everyone stable.” It didn't escape her notice that he was rambling a little. She kissed his neck and hugged him. The saltiness of his sweat, mixed with their love scent, wafted between.

His arms tightened around her.

“I like the way you said hello by the way. I like it when you sometimes go wild like that,” she whispered into his chest, a little embarrassed herself at how much she liked it. He always apologized afterward, when he felt he had been too rough, and she wished he would not feel the need. She wondered if her inexperience made him uncomfortable.

“Once, I glimpsed you naked in your bathroom in Vietnam. The beautiful sight of your body has starred in many of my fantasies since.”

“Oh?” she said, breathless at his shy confession.

“To come home today and unexpectedly see you in my bathroom, naked as in my fantasy…”

“You don't mind an intruder in your bathroom, then?”

“You could never be an intruder,” he whispered tightly and clutched her body tighter.

She soothed him with gentle strokes to his back, recognizing this was one of those times when it was difficult for him to express himself with words. In the middle of the nights, she would sometimes awaken to find him staring at her with some intense, unfathomable expression in his eyes. Yet, whenever she asked him to tell her what serious thoughts had disturbed his sleep, his response was always physical and wordless. At such times, his lovemaking had a vulnerable and desperate rhythm to it. She wished she knew how to help him release his unvoiced fears.

To lighten the moment, she pulled back and teased, “If this is the kind of attention I get when I'm in your bathroom, I might move my messes in here.”

“I'd like that.” His expression was serious. “But I want you to be comfortable. You need privacy.”

He had misunderstood her reason for wanting separate bathrooms. She rubbed his chest. “I grew up with four sisters. There was no privacy, in bathrooms or any other place at home. I'm rather untidy, and Jane had a difficult time with me when we shared a bathroom. I was just trying to spare you the aggravation.”

He grinned and covered her hand with his. “Jane doesn't get the fringe benefits I get sharing a bathroom counter. I have to thank her for letting you come to New York.”

“She couldn't stop me. You can thank her in person at the next Bennet clan get-together, which probably will be when we announce our engagement. I warn you, it's going to be a zoo. I have a big family.”

“Did your parents mind you moving to New York, instead of going back to California?”

“Are you kidding? My parents always expected me to go off somewhere obscure and exotic to work. New York is like staying at home to them.” During a phone call to arrange for her sister Mary to come replace her in Vietnam, Elizabeth told her parents she had met a wonderful man named William and was moving to New York to be with him. They immediately laughed and asked if her new guy was gay. Offended, she had childishly refused to give them any more details.

He released her. “I'd forgotten. Mrs. Reynolds wanted me to tell you she's ready anytime you want to join her in the kitchen.”

She picked up her bathrobe. “I'd better go and take a shower and get down there.”

“You could take a shower here, with me,” he suggested with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Not now. Mrs. Reynolds is waiting for me to cook dinner with her.” She ignored his pout, gave him a peck, and left the room. A few minutes later, she paused at the threshold of her own shower. What was she thinking? Turning down a shower with a sexy man to cook? Mrs. Reynolds wouldn't mind waiting. Doubling back, she crept into his bathroom, hoping to surprise him in the shower. She stopped short.

A towel wrapped around his waist, a bottle of bleach in his hand, he was hard at work wiping down the counter.