Undressing Mr. Darcy (15 page)

“Thank you,” Vanessa said. Her aunt and Paul nodded and smiled at her from across the room. A sense of belonging came over her unlike anything she had known in a long time.

Lexi, in her gown, sashayed away.

“Come on, everyone,” Chase said. “Let’s raise a glass to Ella and Paul.”

After the group made a toast, Vanessa spoke to Chase. “Did you know Paul was going to propose tonight?”

“I knew he had bought the ring, but I had no idea he’d do it tonight. I guess now I know why he bought me the ticket to the ball tonight.”

“Yes, all along he’s been hounding me to come, too.”

“I’m a little surprised he didn’t tell me he was going to propose tonight.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m the best man.” He clinked his glass with hers.

She laughed. “If Paul says so, then you are—the best man.”

“I’m glad you agree. You’ve finally come to your senses. I wonder if you’ll be maid of honor.”

“Always a bridesmaid! I have a closet full of hideous dresses to prove it.”

She took a sip of champagne and glanced out on the dance floor at Julian and Sherry, laughing together as they made their way down the line of English country dancers.

As Julian joined the end of the line, he shot a glance at Vanessa, who raised her glass to him. He nodded with a smile.

Vanessa drank her champagne, watching Julian, knowing she had won all across the board tonight. But there was one thing she was losing: the battle against her attraction to Julian.

Chapter 8

T
he next day Vanessa felt something like regret, or maybe it was the chicken salad she’d had for lunch with her aunt. But she hadn’t protested when Lexi offered to take Julian to Hero Con, and maybe she should have. He had actually wanted to go—or was he simply being polite?

Either way it gave her an opportunity to catch up on work and be sure her aunt was all squared away before tonight’s road trip. A text from Julian couldn’t mean anything good had gone down, though.

A text . . . from Julian? She didn’t even know he could text. It read:

V pls help me! 4th floor mens toilet in the Hyatt! Hurry!

She texted back:

4 real, Julian?

Please, I’m begging you. Hurry! I’m rather tied up in the mens toilet in head 2 toe leathers and I can’t get out!

Tied up? In head-to-toe “leathers”? Leather? They had been gone for all of three hours!

Within twenty minutes Vanessa burst through the men’s room door. “All right, Mr. Darcy. Where the hell are you?” He wasn’t at the urinals and neither was anyone else, thank goodness. The last thing she needed to see would be Jabba the Hutt’s or Mr. Spock’s genitalia.

A guy dressed as a zombie was washing his hands and he didn’t seem at all surprised to see a woman come in.

“Trying to get the blood off your hands?” Vanessa joked to him.

The zombie smiled. “Too long of a line in the women’s bathroom?”

“Actually, I’m looking for my Mr. Darcy,” Vanessa said as she looked under the doors of the stalls.

“In here? Does Mr. Darcy actually take a shit?” the zombie asked.

Vanessa laughed. Who knew zombies would have a sense of humor? “If he does, it would no doubt smell of roses.”

The zombie laughed. “Let me know if you’re ever in the market for a zombie.”

A zombie, yes, that would be the perfect match for her. Right.

He checked his matted, fake-blood-spattered hair in the mirror and left.

“I’m over here.” A British accent floated out of the last stall door.

Vanessa slowly edged the stall door open, and there, standing on top of the toilet with the lid down, was Julian, in the tightest brown leather pants and leather shirt she’d ever seen on anyone.

She couldn’t help but laugh. Tears came to her eyes. “I never say this, Julian, but LOL.”

“Go ahead, laugh,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” She giggled. “This is entirely different from seeing you at a formal ball, on your best Mr. Darcy behavior.”

“I agree. I cannot account for what I may do in a leather outfit.”

She took a picture with her phone. “Actually, it’s a good look for you. Very hot. I’m trying to think of how I can spin this one.”

“I am most glad you are excessively diverted.”

“But—you’re not tied up.”

“Not literally, no.”

“You said you were tied up.”

“Is Lexi out there?” He was changing the subject.

“I didn’t see her.”

“She came in here looking for me.”

“Of course she did. You’re not the first man to hide from her in a men’s room.”

He looked at her knowingly.

“And at least one that I know of tried to ditch her by hiding in a women’s restroom.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say ‘restroom.’ Might you perhaps call it a ‘toilet’?”

“Here I am rescuing your leather-clad ass”—she laughed—“and you’re playing Britspeak with me? Julian. How did you ever get yourself into this mess? And speaking of toilet, why not just get down from there?”

He frowned. “I can’t. The trousers are too tight. And then not only would I be in leather trousers, but worse, I’d be wearing
torn
leather trousers.”

“You really are out of your comfort zone, aren’t you?” He looked good in those tight leather pants, though, and Vanessa couldn’t help but appreciate that fact. “Need I ask how Lexi got you into them, anyway? And why?”

He frowned. “She wanted me to be Gary Mitchell for her.”

“Gary Mitchell?”

“A nemesis of Captain Kirk, evidently. She’s in a
Star Trek
outfit with three breasts today.”

“Three? As if two of hers aren’t enough? Now, that I’d like to see. How did she pull that off?”

“Prosthetics.”

“How do you know?” Vanessa smirked.

“Well, after doing a treble take, I asked. She wanted me to join her in some role-playing and photo ops at the Star Trek Pavilion.”

“So she helped undress Mr. Darcy? And get him into the leather pants, then?”

“If you please, the word ‘pants’ means ‘underpants’ in England. Might you consider saying ‘trousers’?”

“You’re changing the subject again. Did Lexi get you into those leather—trousers?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Vanessa spun on her heel and waved a hand in the air. “Then she and her three breasts can help you out of them.” She headed toward the door.

“Vanessa! Nothing happened! She just helped me zip up. Who knew you would care, regardless?”

“Of course I care—you’re my client. You’re my aunt’s friend.”

“And yet you are more than that to me.”

Vanessa couldn’t say a word. But she could think it: OMG.

“I’m merely a polite Englishman trying to appease various American women who are nothing like the English girls, I can assure you.”

This brought a smile to her face, so she stopped just before the door and said nothing. She and Lexi were hardly the typical American girl next door. Julian had really been tossed into the fire with the two of them. And she was sure they were a far cry from the nice English girls.

He continued. “How could you agree to let me go off with Lexi? Now she tells me she and Sherry are accompanying us to Louisville, when I was hoping beyond hope it would just be you and I.”

She turned back, leaned on the stall door, and put her hand on her hip. He wanted to be alone with her? She couldn’t let herself go there, so this time she changed the subject. “If you can’t move, how did you get up there, then?”

“Sheer survival. I had to get away from her. I had to jump, and quick.”

She laughed again, knowing that if Lexi really wanted Julian, she would’ve landed him by now. Vanessa offered him her hand. “You’re going to really owe me for this one.”

He looked at her hand with genuine gratitude and perhaps even a little smugness at winning her over.

“I plan on thanking you profusely.” He took her hand, leaned on her shoulder with his other hand, and, with a wince, stepped off the toilet and onto the floor, which brought him face-to-face with her. He kept a hand on her shoulder, and with the other he interlocked his fingers with hers, pressed her up against the cold tile bathroom wall, whispered “thank you,” and shocked her with a kiss, better than any man in leather had ever kissed her, or ever could kiss her, for that matter.

She put her free hand on his leather butt and pulled him in closer. She could feel everything, and he grew harder as he pressed into her with a slow rhythmic movement that matched his expert kissing.

This had to be the hottest encounter she’d ever had in a men’s room—in fact, it was the only encounter she’d ever had in a men’s room. She opened her eyes, only to see his were intently closed. She worried about someone walking in on them and could hardly breathe.

He pulled his lips away for a moment, just far enough so she could feel them move when he spoke.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that,” he said.

He had been? Waiting? To kiss her? Why
had
he waited so long? “We really shouldn’t be—”

His lips brushed against hers. “I know. In some aspects you are extremely, exasperatingly old-fashioned.”

“Nobody has ever called me old-fashioned.”

“But you do have some very traditional values.”

Could he stop the talking about values and get back to the kissing? Before she changed her mind about this digression?

She looked at him askance, at his lips, and gave her lips a quick flick with her tongue. “This really shouldn’t be happening.”

“No, it most certainly should not. But I find myself very much attracted to you, Vanessa. And in such a short time, too.” With that he took her wrists and held them up over her head, against the wall, as he proceeded to slowly grind into her and kiss her neck, her collarbone, her cleavage—

But the door opened and Northstar, the first openly gay superhero, stepped in, wearing his signature black and silver suit. Someone in a
Planet of the Apes
costume filed in right behind him.

The toilet in the stall Julian had been in automatically flushed, causing them both to jump.

Northstar and the ape didn’t even look at Vanessa but headed straight for the urinals, and, just like that, the moment was gone and too much time had been wasted talking. Once she heard zippers unzipping she knew she had to get out, and fast—

Julian took her hand and led her toward the door, giving her a generous glance at the leather butt she’d just squeezed.

“Where are your clothes anyway?” Although she knew the answer.

“Lexi has them.”

Vanessa sent the three-breasted Lexi a text message.

“It would be most appreciated if you could get us the hell out of here,” Julian said. “Thank you.”

That was Julian. Always polite.

* * *

L
ie down on my couch,” Vanessa said to him once they’d made it to her condo and she had peeled off his leather shirt.

He looked at her, mouth agape.

“Really, Julian. I’m only going to try and get you out of these things. We need to get you to your book signing in Indianapolis by seven
P.M.
”

He sprawled out on her zebra-striped couch, dwarfing it in an instant as he flattened himself and attempted to squirm out of the leather pants.

“Zipper’s broken,” he said through tightened lips. “Too much of a bulge, I assume.”

“Too much of an ego is more like it.” Vanessa put her hands on her hips and sighed. “It looks like we’re going to have to cut you out.”

“One more try. Just indulge me one more time.”

She leaned over him, propped one knee on the couch, and gripped the waistband of his pants along with him. He lifted his hips and sucked in his already well-carved abs, and, as the pants budged slightly, they both let out a growl.

That was when Aunt Ella and Paul walked in.

“Oh, dear Lord!” Aunt Ella squealed as she dropped her handbag.

The thud prompted Vanessa to spring up.

Paul scooped up the purse.

When Aunt Ella saw that the half-clad body belonged to Julian, she regained her composure.

“Oh, Julian. It’s you. I
do
hope we’re interrupting something.”

Vanessa sighed. “You’re not interrupting anything, Aunt Ella. I’m just trying to help him out of these leather—trousers Lexi somehow got him into.”

“I love it when you say ‘trousers.’” Julian smiled.

Vanessa returned the smile.

Aunt Ella came closer to survey the situation. “Lexi got him into these things? I told you not to leave him with her! Well, dear, you’ll have to cut him out. It’s the only solution. You told me he has a seven o’clock signing in Indianapolis. Shouldn’t you already be on your way?”

Vanessa dashed into the kitchen to get her shears. “Yes, we should.” She rifled through her knife drawer, pulling out three pairs of scissors.

She bolted back into the living room and slid one blade of the kitchen shears into the waistband along the side seam.

“Take it slowly, now,” Julian said. “Of course, I would trust nobody but you with this kind of an operation.”

“That might well be your downfall,” Vanessa said as she cut very carefully down the seam.

“I don’t think so,” Julian said. “You’re a lot sweeter than you let on. And there is something simmering just below the surface of your consummate professionalism.”

She almost nicked his pale skin with the scissors.

Aunt Ella and Paul sat down as if to enjoy the show. Just another event in the life of Vanessa and her men.

“What brings you two here, anyway? Is everything okay?” Vanessa asked as she concentrated on the seam.

“I was so worried, Vanessa.” Aunt Ella piped up. “You haven’t answered your phone for about an hour now, and I even had Paul type to you and tweet to you and God knows what other hocus-pocus he pulled, but you didn’t respond. And that’s not like you. So I wanted to come over here and make sure you weren’t collapsed on your laptop or something of the sort.”

Vanessa was at his thigh now, and she did her best not to look at anything but the seam. His thigh felt warm and muscular against her hand.

She must have inadvertently shut her phone off, and she couldn’t ever do that—not with Aunt Ella’s Alzheimer’s.

“Collapsed at my laptop?”

“Really, Vanessa, I do worry about you.”

“Worrying must run in the family, because I worry about you, too, Aunt Ella.” Although now she had Paul to help out with her aunt, right?

“I’m sorry to say all this in front of you, Julian, but my Vanessa means so much to me. And sometimes she just pushes me to my limit.”

“I can see why,” Julian said.

Vanessa shot him a look. “Who’s holding the scissors here? You’d better watch what you say. And, Auntie, you have an entire wedding to plan! Please don’t waste any time worrying about me.”