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Wickham’s mouth opened slightly. “Oh, I thought…the way he looked at you…” He abruptly closed his mouth.
Lydia snorted. “You think he likes Lizzy?”
Did Lydia have to be quite so incredulous? “My family isn’t nearly old enough money for him,” Elizabeth told George.
“He is a snob,” George said quickly. “The whole family is. His sister is even worse, but”—he smiled smoothly and took another step toward her —“I can’t imagine any man not finding you fascinating.”
Elizabeth chuckled. His flirting was outrageous.
Lydia cleared her throat. “My mother says I’m fascinating, too. I took a philosophy class last semester.” George frowned at this apparent non-sequitur, but his gaze stayed fixed on Elizabeth, especially her lips.
What is wrong with me? A cute guy is flirting with me, and I can only feel hurt at the revelation of the president’s perfidy. Despite herself, she had begun to like him, but George’s story was a timely warning that she couldn’t trust the man; he was a politician and looked after his own best interests. In the future, she vowed she would avoid him altogether.
Lydia’s phone chirped, and she pulled it out of her clutch, giggling at whatever she read. “OMG! I need to go meet Maria in the ladies’ room!” she announced. “She just found out why Olga broke up with Jared.” Within seconds Lydia had disappeared, her attraction to George not nearly as acute as her need for gossip.
In Lydia’s absence, the garden was very dark and very isolated. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I should be getting back—”
George laid his hand on her forearm. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but I feel very drawn to you…” They were nearly chest to chest.
Elizabeth was momentarily stunned. The man moved so quickly. His hand traced along her jaw. “I think we have real chemistry,” he said huskily.
“Uh…” Her brain was formulating a response when he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, soft and tentative. Not demanding. Nice in its own way.
But it did nothing for her. The president’s touch to her fingertips was far more thrilling. Damn it. Why did her libido have to be such a poor judge of character? Why couldn’t she be attracted to a nice, charming guy like George instead of a jerk like President Darcy?
He pulled away from her and smiled. “I knew we had chemistry!” Apparently, he didn’t recognize the taste of chemistry.
He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Maybe we could—”
Elizabeth took a step back. “George, I’m flattered, b-but…this is moving a little fast…”
“I didn’t mean to rush you.” He held up a placating hand. “I’m just so attracted to you….”
Elizabeth’s phone buzzed. Pulling it out of her clutch, she saw a text from Jane: “Call me.” She made an apologetic face. “I should go and—”
“Could I at least give you my number?” George’s eyes pleaded with her. “Then I can call you for a proper date.”
Elizabeth managed a smile; she’d find a way to let him down easy. “Of course.” She rattled off her number.
“All right.” He pumped his fist, grinning broadly as he punched it into his phone.
Elizabeth said goodbye, smiling absently as her thoughts focused on Jane. Turning without a backward glance, she hurried toward the front of the house—as fast as she could on bare feet—while calling up Jane’s number on speed dial.
“Lizzy, where are you?” Jane’s strained voice sent a thrill of fear down Elizabeth’s spine.
“Outside getting some air. Is something wrong?”
“I want to go. Can you meet me at the valet stand?” Jane’s voice broke on the last word.
“Sure.” Elizabeth picked up her pace. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Bing—” Jane’s voice wobbled, and she started over. “Bing broke up with me.”
Chapter Nine
“How are you?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’d be a lot better if everyone stopped asking me that,” Jane sighed on the other end of the phone.
