“We met when we were twelve years old.” Alan winked again. Only this time, he aimed it at his wife. “I’ve loved her ever since.”
Jenna held her glass of wine toward them, as if giving a toast at a wedding. “Cutest. Couple. Ever.”
Elizabeth could only agree. And for a split second, she wondered if she was wrong about marriage, after all. Maybe there were good men out there, as Jenna and her mother so often insisted. Maybe there was a man somewhere who would look at her like Alan looked at Sue, even after forty years together. They couldn’t all be Grant Markhams. Could they?
As Sue and Alan went off on their respective errands and Jenna checked her phone for text messages, Elizabeth sipped her Pimm’s and gave herself permission to think about Donovan Darcy. Only for a minute, she decided. She’d been doing her best to forget him ever since they’d left the show site, but that had been before the black balloons.
And the alcohol.
Like Grant Markham, he was certainly rich. And powerful. Those two qualities alone would have been enough to make most women swoon. Elizabeth was not, however, most women. She knew firsthand how dangerous such a combination could be. And, to top it off, Donovan Darcy had already proved that his words weren’t always as pretty as his face.
The man was a mystery, equal parts beautiful and maddening. Sue had been right. Elizabeth had wanted to slap him, right across his gorgeous face. Then he’d gone and switched gears on her, awarding Bliss Reserve and turning on his British charm. Elizabeth wondered if he had any idea how overpoweringly appealing he could be when he wasn’t scowling.
Oh, yes, he knows, she decided. He can probably turn it on and off on command. They probably teach it over there in some kind of James Bond charm school.
Feeling a little shaken, and more than a little stirred, she aimed her attention back at Jenna. “Thank you, big sis.”
Jenna looked up from her phone. “What for?”
“For coming this weekend.” Elizabeth smiled. “And for this little party. It’s perfect.” Aside from the morbid decorations, but let’s not get picky.
“I’m afraid you might not think so after...” Jenna’s voice drifted off, and her eyes grew wide as she focused on something in the distance. “Who is that?”
Elizabeth knew without even turning around in her chair that her sister was looking at none other than Donovan Darcy. In the flesh. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, as if she’d conjured him simply by indulging in a little harmless daydreaming.
She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there he stood, at the hostess stand. Glowering, as usual.
Elizabeth glowered right back, until he aimed his gaze directly toward her.
Damn.
He’d caught her openly staring at him. She tried to tell herself otherwise, that he hadn’t even noticed. The slow grin that came to his lips told a story all its own, however. He most definitely had noticed. And it appeared to please him.
She looked away, took a deep breath and tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart.
If ever there was a man who embodied the word dangerous, it was him. Elizabeth would sleep better at night when he went back to England and there was a vast, fathomless ocean between them.
Jenna cleared her throat. “I said, who is that?”
“Who?” Elizabeth feigned innocence to buy herself more time to regain her composure.
“You know who.” Jenna lifted a brow in Mr. Darcy’s direction.
Great. Now he knows we’re talking about him. She wished she could shrink small enough to crawl into the tiny plastic coffin that sat atop her birthday cake in the center of the table.
“Oh, him.” Elizabeth doubted she was fooling anyone with her attempt at nonchalance, least of all Jenna. “That’s the judge from this afternoon. Our very own Mr. Darcy.”
Jenna’s gaze grew even more appreciative, if such a thing were possible. “That explains why he looks like he just climbed down from a polo pony.”
“Didn’t you see him earlier today at the show?”
Jenna shook her head. “No. Definitely not. I was actually looking at the dogs.”
That was a first. “Well, don’t let those good looks fool you. He’s an ass.”
“He looks like Daniel Craig’s younger, hotter brother. And besides, he almost crowned Bliss Miss America. How big of an ass can he be?”
Where to start? “You have no idea.”
“Let me guess.” Jenna returned her glass to the table with a little too much force. Wine sloshed to the rim, threatening to spill over onto the crisp white tablecloth. “He’s rich.”
“Of course he is.” Elizabeth plucked a piece of tombstone-shaped confetti from her lap and rolled it between her fingers.
Jenna leaned forward, her gaze probing. “And that automatically makes him an ass?”
“It doesn’t help his case.” Elizabeth squirmed. Jenna looked as though she was on the verge of a full-on lecture. Where was Alan with her refill? She could use a sip of Pimm’s—or wine, or anything with alcohol, really—right about now.
“Not all rich men are like you-know-who. There are a few decent wealthy people in the world.” Jenna crossed her arms and gave her a look somewhere between smug and sympathetic.
“Name one.” Elizabeth sat back and waited, sure she’d found just the words to silence her sister.
She was wrong.
“I’ll name two.” Jenna’s voice softened. “Alan and Sue.”
Elizabeth glanced at the bar, where Alan Barrow stood chatting up the bartender, his face split into an endearing grin. “Alan and Sue?”
“Surely you’ve realized they’re rich. They divide their time between London and New York. She raises Champion dogs and shows them all over the world. Did you think they were poor?”
Elizabeth slumped a little lower in her chair. “I hadn’t given it any thought, actually.”
“Well, maybe you should.” Jenna reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “And maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to label that hot judge an ass.”
Elizabeth stole another quick glance in his direction.
He appeared to be studying a menu, but everything about his countenance said he was fully aware the two sisters were talking about him. His lingering wry smile, the subtle gleam of satisfaction in his eyes...the casual way he crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned against the doorjamb of the entryway—all a deliberate, and successful, attempt at looking carelessly sexy.
Or maybe he just really was that sexy without even trying.
It was infuriating.
Elizabeth turned back to Jenna, full of fresh indignation. “Jenna, you never see a fault in anybody. But I assure you, Mr. Darcy thinks awfully highly of himself. You weren’t there. You didn’t see how he treated me in the ring today.”
“Well, here’s my chance.” Jenna took a larger-than-usual gulp of her wine. “Don’t look now, but he’s coming over here.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “He is not.”
“Yes, he is.” Jenna muttered a countdown under her breath. “In four, three, two, one.”
She sounded like Mission Control.
Elizabeth’s stomach churned with each passing second. Houston, we have a problem...
“Miss Scott.”
She opened her