Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,60

only friends. He was kind and polite to me. He took me for sushi again on my birthday. He asked how my day was. Little things like that. I was hoping he’d ask me out, but he never did. At least not for a while. We’d been friends and colleagues for nearly a year before I finally just asked him.

He said yes, and we went to this restaurant called Bartolotta’s Lake Park Bistro and we had fun. He admitted he hadn’t asked me out because he didn’t want me to think he was sexually harassing me, a highly visible issue on PC college campuses like ours. But after our date, he asked if I’d like to go on another and I said yes, and after that it was simply implied that we were a couple.

He didn’t kiss me until date number four. We were sitting on my couch after coming home from dinner, talking about history as usual, and he stopped and cleared his throat and said, “Meg, I hope you won’t be offended, but I’d like to ask your permission to...to...kiss you.”

I’d said yes immediately and he’d leaned over and pressed his lips to mine. His were shaking, he was so nervous. The kiss lasted all of maybe five seconds and there was no tongue involved.

Afterward, Harrison took a deep breath and looked completely relieved, like he’d just finished his dissertation. I was a little relieved too because truthfully, I had begun to wonder if he was ever going to do it. He was perfect and everything, but I needed to find out if we were sexually compatible, of course, and if he wanted me that way. The kiss had restored my faith in his desire for me. Though the excitement of it had been somewhat dimmed later as I recounted the entire night over the phone to Ellie in excruciating detail. She said she preferred a man who grabbed you and kissed you as if he couldn’t keep his hands off you. I told her that sounded like assault. She said I’d been in the college environment too long.

“Hot is hot, Meg, and if a man wants me, and I’m obviously digging him, I don’t want him to ask my frickin’ permission first. That’s just so...so...”

“Harrison?” I offered.

“I guess.” Even over the phone I could tell that she’d rolled her eyes when she’d said it.

So, Ellie didn’t think Harrison was hot. That didn’t matter. He and I were so much alike. And anyway, Ellie could have her hot-alpha-male types. The kind of men who kissed first and asked questions later. Harrison was...thoughtful.

The night we first made love, it was sweet—if over a bit too quickly—and he asked me half a dozen times if I was okay. Then he’d cradled me in his arms and we talked about how our future children would be the world’s foremost scholars on nineteenth-century British history. You know, postcoital nerd talk. Harrison had studied at Oxford. I’d studied at Cambridge. Our paths had not crossed in the UK. The first year we were together, we went on a trip to Brighton and studied in-depth about the Prince Regent’s social habits. The second year we went to Bath for the Jane Austen Festival. That was before they’d added the competition. Our third year, we’d planned for the trip for months. If we couldn’t win it, who could? It was a sure bet. We’d been so excited about it...until Lacey Lewis had stuck in her perfect button nose and ruined everything, and Harrison had let her do it.

“Romances novels aren’t realistic,” I breathed, remembering what Ellie had said about Jeremy seeming as if he’d stepped out of the pages of one.

“Maybe, but it seems to me you’re practically living inside one right now. You’re about to be in England, all dressed up like Elizabeth Bennet with your own live-action Darcy. A hot one. Sounds like a dream come true to me.”

Chapter 19

Tuesday

Our final fitting was scheduled for ten in the morning. I picked up Jeremy and we drove to Mitchell’s shop together. When we got there, a familiar black Audi was parked in the lot. I pulled into a spot several spaces away.

“No way,” I groaned, squeezing the steering wheel.

“What?” Jeremy asked, glancing around for the source of my discomfort.

I nodded toward the Audi. “That’s Lacey’s car.”

“She’s here?” He glanced into the shop.

“Yeah, which means Harrison is too, probably. Want to come back later?” I knew it was a cowardly thing to say, but I