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Elizabeth was caught off guard. “I-In April. We were supposed to hear two weeks ago.”
“Hmm.” President Darcy stroked his chin thoughtfully, drawing her attention to the light sprinkling of stubble. It suited him. “I’ll have Fitz investigate.”
“Thank you.” Mission accomplished. The tension drained from every muscle in her body, leaving her limp with relief. Now she could leave. Except it would be terribly rude, particularly after he’d agreed to do her a favor. No use imagining her quiet hotel room and soft, welcoming bed.
Another awkward pause. Evidently the president felt no urgent need to speak with anyone else; in fact, he regarded her quite intently. Perhaps something in her manner or dress secretly amused him. Sweat dampened the back of her neck, making her collar stick to her skin, and the wine in her glass sloshed as her hands shook. Maybe he and Fitz would return to the presidential suite that evening and laugh over her faux pas.
He still watched her expectantly. Think, Elizabeth. There must be some way to make small talk with a president.
“So, um, have you finished writing the speech you’re giving tomorrow?” she asked. Lame, lame, lame!
He cleared his throat. “The speechwriters finished it back in D.C.” Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? “I
hope I do a good job. The topic is so important.”
“You always do a good job,” Elizabeth said without thinking.
“Thank you.”
Oh God! Had that sounded like…flirting? Did he think she was coming on to him? “I mean, that’s something the press always talks about, right?” she said hastily. “How you’re good at public speaking.”
His shoulders slumped a bit. “I suppose. But the speech is rather dry. Maybe I should borrow some of your jokes.”
She tapped a finger on her chin. “Hmm. That does run into some copyright issues. I might need to charge a fee…”
He laughed, lighting up his entire face. Why does he have to be so attractive?
“Although it might be useful as a marketing gimmick.” She held up her hands like an advertising marquee. “Actual jokes used by the President of the United States.”
When he laughed, dark strands of hair fell across his forehead—practically begging to be touched. “If the international aid worker thing doesn’t pan out, you could try writing comedy.”
She made a face. “If the international aid worker thing doesn’t pan out, I’ll be stuck marketing On-a-Stick products for the rest of my life.”
“Would that be so bad?”
She shrugged. “Compared to what? Compared to slinging fries at McDonald’s? Yeah, it’s better. But I spent all my adulthood trying to separate myself from the family business.”
“You love your family, but you don’t necessarily want to follow in their footsteps.” His eyes were fixed on his aunt, where she fussed at Fitz near the bar.
Perhaps a career in politics was his way to separate himself from an overbearing family. His parents had died when he was young, but if Catherine de Bourgh exemplified his family, the need for some distance was understandable.
“Fitz seems nice,” she said.
“Yeah, he’s a great guy. Not just my cousin, but a good friend.”
“Fitz and Bing. Your friends have such interesting names. Like the sounds a can of soda makes when you open it. Or maybe a store that sells magical items from Harry Potter.”
He guffawed, startling her and drawing eyes from around the room. “I’ll have to tell that to Fitz; he’ll love that!”
“Oh God!” Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. “Don’t tell him I said it.”
“Are you giving me an order?” His tone was light. “You know, I’m commander in chief of the military.”
Who was she to tell the president what to do—even in jest? “Oh shit,” she muttered. “I mean, oh crap, I mean—okay, I’m shutting up now.”
His face was solemn, but a corner of his mouth quirked upward. “It’s okay to fucking curse in front of the president. We already established that I won’t have you audited or drafted.”
His delivery was so deadpan that Elizabeth couldn’t help laughing. They were drawing curious looks from around the room; maybe the president wasn’t usually this amusing. She’d never read anything that suggested he had a good sense of humor. “But arresting me is still on the table?” With her hands on her hips, she gave him a mock frown. “Does Bing know you talk to constituents this way?”
