Dating Mr. Darcy - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,28

face as she reaches up inside her skirt. I know what she’s doing because I’ve already had to do it a couple of times myself tonight.

“Did your butt eat your bloomers?” I ask.

“It’s so annoying. How can something so big and roomy work its way right up in there?”

“Oh, I hear you,” Marni says empathetically.

“I suggest we revolt,” I say. “Ditch the clown-like bloomers and snap on our Spanx. What do you say, girls?”

“This sounds like an interesting conversation,” a deep, velvety voice with a distinctively clipped English accent says behind me.

Oh, no.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before I open them and look up into a pair of brown eyes with a mischievous glint, trained right on me. The last thing I want to talk to Sebastian about is our underwear. He was probably the one who insisted we had to wear the bloomers in the first place.

“It’s nothing, really. Just, you know, girl stuff.” My cheeks flame and try to think of cold things like icebergs and swimming pools in winter. Glowing red Easter egg dye, remember?

“Girl stuff sounds interesting to me,” he replies.

I hear the whirr of the cameras around us, which makes my blush go nuclear.

“Spanx,” Marni says without preamble. “We were talking about Spanx and how we hate having to wear bloomers.”

His lips twitch. “Bloomers? I had no idea.”

Well, there goes that theory.

“Oh, we’re full-on authentic here, mister,” Marni says.

His laugh is deep. “That is good to know. Other than the, err, bloomers situation, how are you finding the new clothes?”

“I love them,” Lisa says, moving her shoulders from side to side.

I watch as Sebastian’s eyes drift down to her pert cleavage and linger for a moment too long.

Ha! So much for being Mr. Darcy. He would never eye up a girl’s assets in such an obvious way. He would be a complete gentleman.

Sebastian might have loads of money and come from an upper-class background, but at the heart of it all, he is just your standard, lecherous guy.

Lisa seems quite happy with the attention, and even goes on to toy with the ribbon on her bodice to keep it on her. “I feel really feminine and pretty in it, especially next to you, Mister Darcy.” She looks up at him through hooded eyes, telegraphing her message loud and clear.

Subtlety, thy name is not Lisa.

Sebastian seems to be working hard to raise his eyes from her chest. “I’m pleased to hear it, Lisa.”

I raise my eyebrows in judgment at him. Get a grip, dude. They’re only boobs.

“Sebastian, tell us. Are you sending someone home tonight?” Marni asks.

He wins the battle and manages to raise his eyes. “I have to, I’m afraid. Those are the rules of the show.”

“But you’ve barely spent any time with any of us,” Lisa protests. “How can you know who to send home?”

“That’s why I’m trying to talk individually to a number of women I’d like to get to know a little better tonight, just as I did last night. And on that note,” he looks from Lisa, to me, to Marni, and back to me again, “would you care to take a stroll with me, Emma? I have a rather nice little secluded spot set up in the garden.”

I blink at him in surprise. “You want to talk to me?”

He shoots me a look that questions whether I’m right in the brain. “Well, yes. That is the general idea.”

I glance at Lisa and Marni. They’re putting a brave face on it, but I can tell Lisa, especially, is disappointed. She probably feels knocked back, despite going all in with her impressive weapons of mass distraction.

I smile sweetly at Sebastian. “Sure. I’d be more than happy to talk with you, Mr. Darcy.”

This is my chance. I need to get him away from the cameras, explain the situation to him, and within the next few hours, I could be home free. And I’ve got a little plan up my sleeve to do it. Well, strictly speaking it’s down my top as my sleeves are miniscule, but you get the idea.

“Have fun, you two,” Marni says as we turn to leave.

We walk together past the contestants on one side, the pool on the other, and I’m sure Camille isn’t the only one weighing up whether to push me in right about now. Sebastian leads me down a path with low lighting to a pretty gazebo with a cushioned loveseat, and candles lining the edges.

“Please, take a seat,” he offers, and I