Dating Mr. Darcy - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,70

and then it’s Reggie’s team’s turn. Reggie is terrible but good humored about it as always, and then Mrs. Watson announces, “The next team is Miss Camille’s team, Mr. Darcy. We have Miss Camille, Miss Kennedy, and Miss Emma.” She points at each of us.

He smiles at us and says, “I’m glad I didn’t miss this.”

Mrs. Watson claps her hands. “Positions please, ladies.”

Kennedy, Camille, and I collect a ball each and move over to the mark.

“If this were ten-pin bowling, I’d smash the lot,” Kennedy says to me.

I narrow my eyes at her. “You don’t look like the bowling type.”

“What’s the type?”

“You know, protruding belly, terrible shoes. Plus you’re not a balding, middle-aged man.”

“I grew up with a dad obsessed with it. I couldn’t not be the type.”

“You go first, Emma,” Camille instructs.

“But Kennedy’s got the ‘ball skills,’” I complain.

“Just do it,” she snaps. She turns to smile sweetly at Sebastian.

I could argue, but what’s the point? I’d may as well get this thing over with. I step onto the little green mat and line up my shot. Without any strategy whatsoever, I aim for the jack and roll the ball in its direction. I watch as it slows and comes to a stop about five feet from it, knocking one of the other team’s balls out of place.

“Hey! Not fair,” Shelby complains.

“Sorry,” I say to her with a conciliatory shrug.

“Don’t be sorry, Emma,” Camille says. “You’re doing great.” She hands me another bowl and I almost fall over at the compliment.

“I’ve got to go again?” I ask.

“Haven’t you been watching? Each player gets four balls to bowl.”

I let out a puff of air. “Okay.”

I bowl the next ball and it ends up crashing into a garden seat way off course, and the next ball barely makes it half way down the green.

“Would you like some help, Emma?” Sebastian asks.

“Sure,” I reply breathlessly as he collects a ball and moves over to me.

“I think it might be your technique.”

“Do you know much about bowls?” I ask him under my breath.

“Next to nothing,” he replies, and I snort with laughter. He passes me the ball and moves to stand behind me. “Line up the jack.”

I hold the ball up in front of me as though I’m going to bowl a ball down an alley at ten pins.

He puts his hand on my arm and I can feel his firm body pressed up against mine. It feels amazing, and I find myself wishing we were alone in the library away from the glare of the cameras and the other contestants. “Now, pull it back like this, and then direct it at the jack.”

I release the ball and, with his body still pressed against mine, we both watch its progress. It knocks my other ball out of contention, sitting pretty only a couple of feet from its target.

“You’re a professional, Miss Emma,” he says and I turn and smile up at him, my heart going all kinds of crazy.

“My turn next,” Camille announces.

With regret, I pull back from Sebastian and return to Kennedy on the edge of the green.

“Will you show me how to do it, too, Mr. Darcy?” Camille asks, looking up through her lashes at him.

“Of course, Camille.”

“You’ll need to do exactly what you did with Emma. I’m afraid I’m not very good at bowls.”

I roll my eyes at Kennedy. Camille sure knows how to play the damsel in distress card.

As Sebastian takes Camille’s ball and positions himself behind her as he had with me, a burning sensation takes hold of my chest. Although my rational brain tells me he’s playing the game for the cameras, it’s hard to watch.

And Camille milks it for all it’s worth. She asks for his help with every ball, and I’m forced to watch the whole thing unfold, pretending I’m fine with it all.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy. With your help, I think I might win today,” she simpers when her last ball has been bowled. Praise the Lord.

Kennedy has her go next, and she makes a point of not asking for Sebastian’s help, even though she could quite obviously use it. She manages to knock one of my balls out of contention, but the rest of them go awry.

And then it’s time for Mrs. Watson to assess who has won.

She calls for quiet. “Congratulations, Camille. You have won the romantic dinner for two with Mr. Darcy tonight.”

Camille smirks and thanks everyone as though she’s just won an Oscar and not some game played by the elderly.

“The