Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,38

I stared up at him dreamily. I couldn’t help myself. It was like being in the pages of a romance novel. I’d always preferred historical ones, but this one could have easily been a perfectly good contemporary.

He reached out and for a moment, the shortest moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. My eyes were nearly closed. I cleared my throat. No, you dolt. He was not just about to kiss you. Plus, you have a boyfriend and wouldn’t want him to anyway. Jeez.

“Jeremy,” I breathed nearly against his lips. “I have to ask you something.”

“Yes?” he replied, searching my face.

I hastily stepped back. “What’s your shoe size? I need to order your boots.”

Chapter 13

Friday

I’d agreed to meet Jeremy at his place to go over our scene. With Luke at my house, I didn’t think he’d give us a moment’s peace if we were pacing around the living room, quoting Jane Austen. Privacy was best for such things.

I was a little apprehensive about going to Jeremy’s place. The address he’d given me was off campus and not in the best part of town. Visions of him being a hoarder flashed through my head. Then my entire fantasy about him would be completely shattered. I could not fantasize about a hoarder. I just didn’t have it in me. But given the fact that I’d had more than one uncomfortably awkward moment of wanting to kiss him in the last several days, while simultaneously confirming with my fiancé that we would become engaged before the holidays...I thought it best to go and confront the hoard and put my unwanted fantasies about Jeremy to bed, once and for all.

Wait. Perhaps ‘to bed’ wasn’t the best use of words in my head. To rest. Yes, to rest!

I pulled the Jetta to a stop in front of a small, craftsmen-style bungalow that had a white picket fence and a perfectly kept yard, complete with flower beds in front of the neatly trimmed hedges that lined the porch. The small house was painted a pretty olive-green color. I think I’d been expecting a dirty apartment building or a town house or something. Like the places Luke tended to end up when he wasn’t at my place. I certainly hadn’t been expecting this charming little home.

I pulled my bag (complete with two copies of P&P) from the passenger seat, opened the door, and hopped out. I locked the car with the fob and made my way carefully up the steps to the front porch. I’d decided to go casual tonight. In addition to my ubiquitous glasses, I had on jeans, as skinny as they got on me, a longish T-shirt with a black shrug, black flats, and my hair up in a ponytail. I hoped it said casually cute without trying too hard.

When I got to the door and knocked, a series of loud barks came ricocheting through the brass mail slot.

Oh, yeah. The nursing-home-volunteer dog. I smiled. I’d always wanted a dog, but they seemed like a lot of work. Something I didn’t have time for. This particular dog was a good citizen, too. Last night, after he’d told me his shoe size, I’d asked Jeremy if I would be ruining his visit at the retirement home by coming over tonight. He told me the retired people had some sort of a field trip to the outlet mall planned. No worries.

Moments later, I heard Jeremy’s deep voice through the door. “Huckleberry, down.” The barking stopped, and the door opened to reveal Jeremy standing there, sawdust on the shoulders of his heather gray T-shirt that hugged his flat abdomen. Dark blue jeans rode his hips and a smile rode his lips. My breath caught in my throat.

“Hi Meg,” he said in a sexy voice, his fingers curled around the edge of the door above his head. “Welcome to my house.”

“Thanks,” I replied inanely as he opened the screen door for me. The room smelled like pine needles and wood shavings. A clean, brisk scent. I could sniff it forever. The space was small but completely devoid of a hoard. Obvi this was the one room he kept clean for guests. The floors were solid wood, and a dark gray couch and dark brown leather chair sat at right angles against the far walls. A brick fireplace painted white was in the center of the room, and a painting of a Golden Retriever that looked suspiciously