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“He has the other one, not the one you’re using.” There was only a hint of longing in her eyes.
“Sorry. I don’t have the foggiest idea.”
With a brisk nod, she hurried away. She was quite accomplished at concealing her infatuation. Darcy admired her acting skills. But he knew she’d start getting weird and clingy; they all did eventually. Then he’d have to push her away, possibly losing a good assistant. An excellent assistant. It was a shame.
He returned to studying his script, but after a few minutes Charlie dropped back into his chair. “Lord, that woman is annoying,” he muttered, gesturing to Lydia. Darcy nodded. “How would you rate her?”
This was a game Charlie played, rating the women on the set. Darcy wasn’t a particularly enthusiastic participant, but it passed the time.
“I don’t know,” Darcy said carelessly. He’d never really thought of Lydia Bennet that way. “Six…no, five.”
“Really?” Charlie peered in her direction. “I’d give her at least an eight. She’s gorgeous.”
Lydia’s infatuation with Darcy was of a fundamentally different nature. Elizabeth wanted his soul. Lydia just wanted to be his arm candy. “Are you kidding?” he asked his friend. “Five minutes with her would be like sandpaper under your skin. After one night she’d turn into a stage five clinger and expect to go everywhere with you.”
Charlie eyed Lydia as she “acted” on the set. “Ugh. You’re probably right.”
From the corner of his eye, Darcy noticed Elizabeth—apparently still searching for the missing briefcase—duck behind a curtain. Running right behind their chairs, the curtain created a separate area where props were stored. Darcy couldn’t see her, but he could feel the breeze of her passage and guess where she was. He could have reached out and poked her.
Apparently oblivious, Charlie kept talking. “You know who’s a ten? Jane Bennet. She’s a knockout.”
If you liked them thin, quiet, and smiley. “She’s not my type.” Darcy was very aware that Elizabeth could hear every word but couldn’t think how to warn Charlie.
“Man, she is so totally my type. If she weren’t busy, I’d be over there chatting her up instead of hanging out with your sorry ass.”
“Gee, thanks,” Darcy said with no heat.
Charlie shrugged. “You know where my priorities are.”
Darcy certainly did. Getting laid was Charlie’s prime directive, no matter where he was. Actually, he was demonstrating unusual restraint by only pursuing one woman on set—so far. “Are you sure Jane is your type? She’s so…quiet.”
Charlie rubbed his hands together. “Oh yeah. Set phasers on stun. She won’t know what hit her!”
Darcy said nothing. Jane didn’t seem like the casual-sex-on-the-set type of actress, but that was her lookout. “What score would you give Elizabeth?” Charlie asked with a cheeky grin.
Darcy froze, aware that Elizabeth was right behind them, no doubt hearing every word. On the other hand, maybe this was his chance to kill her nascent infatuation. That would be for the best, wouldn’t it? He could have a more professional relationship with her—free from worries that she was hoping for a kiss or an invitation to dinner.
He squelched a surprising pang of regret. If she thought there was any chance, it would get her hopes up. Everything would get awkward and weird. It would be better if she knew where she stood now, before her crush developed into full-blown infatuation.
Closing his eyes, Darcy recalled his initial impression when he viewed her lying on the studio sidewalk. “Three, maybe four.”
Charlie gave a low whistle. “You’re harsh. I think she’s pretty.” She is. More than pretty. Beautiful. “Is this just because she messes up your coffee?”
“It’s more than that. She’s…” Funny, intelligent. “There just isn’t much going on upstairs, you know?” I shouldn’t have said that. It was utter blasphemy. She had to be the smartest personal assistant he’d ever had—even one of the smartest people he knew. But it was too late to take it back now.
A muffled thump sounded behind them. Darcy winced, knowing it was probably Elizabeth. Charlie turned his head at the noise, but Darcy directed his attention to the set. “What do you think Perez is asking Len to do?”
While Charlie was distracted, Darcy felt a whoosh of air as Elizabeth rushed out from behind the curtain. He repressed a sudden, stupid impulse to leap up and confess his lies and kept his eyes averted.
A few seconds later, he stole a casual look in her direction. Elizabeth was striding away from him at a ground-eating pace, without a briefcase.
***
Elizabeth scurried across the set, ignoring the protests of her bruised knee and silently saying thanks that Charlie and Will didn’t notice her. If Will knew she had overheard him, it would have been mortifying. More mortifying.
Banging her knee on the fake rock had almost given her away. Fortunately, nobody had ducked behind the curtain to investigate.
It was all so bizarre. Rating women like that was like a parody of frat boys in a coming-of-age movie. Of course, she expected some people in Hollywood to be shallow, but she hadn’t thought…she hadn’t thought Darcy would be that shallow.
