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It took Darcy a moment to realize his friend was wondering about the women in the cast. Charlie managed to get involved with at least one woman on every film. He picked them up and dropped them with alarming regularity, and managed it all with such charm that somehow they were never angry at him. Darcy had no idea how he did it.
“I’ll just be happy if I can steer clear of Caroline,” Darcy muttered. Charlie laughed; his sister’s interest in Darcy was a long-running joke. “Who do you have your eye on?”
Charlie discreetly tilted his head toward a group of departing cast members that included Jane Bennet. “Do you think Tom would mind if I made a move on his daughter?”
Darcy snorted. “I don’t think Tom would notice.”
Charlie rubbed his hands together. “I am on it!” He watched Jane disappear around a corner and then turned to Darcy. “What about you? Identified any hot prospects?”
“What am I? A talent scout?” Darcy joked.
Charlie shrugged. “Aren’t we all?”
A couple of years ago, Darcy would have been scanning the conference room for women who might be interested in a night of fun, but today he hadn’t even considered it. “No. I’m keeping it loose on this set. No hooking up with costars.”
“Man, you are always so serious!”
Darcy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m supposed to be rehabilitating my image. I’m not going to ruin it by being a horndog on set.”
“You know that attitude will not keep the chicks away, don’t you?”
Darcy gave his friend a sly smile. “Nothing I can do about that. It’s my natural alpha dog magnetism.”
“Nah, that’s not it. It’s the brooding thing you’ve got going on.”
Darcy’s eyebrows lifted. “Brooding thing? I wasn’t aware I did a brooding thing.”
Charlie waved a hand impatiently. “Oh, c’mon! You were doing it during the table read—all profound and brooding.”
“I was just sitting there.”
“No, definitely brooding, even if it was unintentional. Which is totally unfair.”
“Why?”
“I can’t brood.”
“Sure you can. Anyone can brood if they try hard enough.” Darcy reflected that this had turned into a bizarre conversation.
“Nah. It’s the face. I look like the guy who skateboards all day. Or who only drinks and smokes weed.” That was not an inaccurate description of Charlie’s lifestyle. “With this face, I’m perpetually stuck in ‘mellow boy-next-door’ mode. And next-door boys don’t brood.”
“That’s deep, man. You should put it on a bumper sticker.”
Charlie punched Darcy’s arm. “Asshole! I’m unburdening the deep existential dilemmas of my life, and you’re mocking me. Now you owe me! You owe it to me to come to the club tonight and help me round up some chicks.”
Darcy didn’t believe any obligation had been incurred, but he also didn’t think
sitting home alone would improve his already strange mood. Most of the time he hated the reaction when he went out in public: the squeals, the screams, the wide eyes, the trembling hands when fans approached. Sometimes they cried. But the whole scene was a great ego boost, and today, for some reason, he felt in need of a boost. He refused to believe it had anything to do with Elizabeth Bennet or having wrecked another car.
“All right, I’ll come and brood at some Victoria’s Secret models. Just for you.”
“You’re a real friend.”
Chapter Three
Elizabeth had endured bloodwork, a CT scan, and exams from two different doctors. They determined she had a mild concussion and wouldn’t let her leave until a “responsible party” could escort her.
With plenty of work waiting for her at home, Elizabeth chafed at the enforced idleness, but she also knew not to mess with a concussion. Pain medication had eased the throbbing in her head and made her feel a little floaty, which helped to pass the time. Actually, after the hubbub at the studio, she found the hospital quite peaceful.
