Page 34 of Stuck

With my feet curled beneath me on the sofa and a steaming cup of tea on the cushion in my lap, I hit dial on Jane’s number. My phone was propped up against the fruit bowl on the coffee table, leaving my hands free for tea and chocolate consumption while we chatted. I’d wolfed down three Maltesers and was about to hang up by the time she answered, flustered and shouting hello as though that might prevent the call from disconnecting.

I didn’t remark directly on her flushed cheeks or obvious sex hair when her face appeared on the screen—just smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Jane Bennet, you’re not distracting that poor man from his work, are you?”

She blushed even brighter red. “No!”

Bingley snorted somewhere off camera, and she hissed at him to be quiet.

“Thought I’d check in after my slightly drunken texting last night. And to see whether you’d seen Kitty’s message.”

“Oh, has she been in touch? Are they all right?” She settled into an armchair in her hotel room, revealing the sheer size and luxury of the suite behind her. Perks of dating a CEO, I supposed.

“More than, by the sounds of it. They’ve arrived in Koh Chang and have met up with some hot Italian backpackers.”

“Of course they have.” Jane rolled her eyes. “They haven’t asked for more money?”

“Not yet. Hopefully they won’t after the talking-to we gave them last time.”

Lydia and Kitty had saved hard for their trip, but Jane, Mary, and I were on standby to bail them out if the need ever arose. It had so far arisen ten times, and even Jane’s patience for their profligacy was running out.

“Speaking of hot men, how were things at swimming this morning?” she asked.

I almost choked on the Malteser I’d just put in my mouth. Had I mentioned that I thought Darcy was hot? “What do you mean?”

“With Billy, after your date. Was it weird?”

“Oh, that! No, it was fine. I think he might be dating Charlotte now.”

“Already? Hadn’t he been chasing after you for weeks?”

“Yep! Not that I expected him to pine after me, but you’ve got to feel sorry for Charlotte. It’s hardly a great endorsement of the man’s emotional depth.”

“You did say you thought he was immature.”

“Yep, seems like I called it. I don’t think Darcy was overly impressed by him either.”

Bingley’s head suddenly popped into frame, his hair even more dishevelled than Jane’s. “Wait, Darcy actually turned up to swimming?”

“He did! I was as surprised as you.”

“Surprised” was a colossal understatement. When I’d woken up, bleary-eyed and groggy-headed, I still hadn’t regretted inviting him. It was a team outing, he was a valued colleague and Bingley’s good friend, and I’d thought he could probably do with cheering up after what must have been a difficult night. I’d been rather proud of myself for having thought to include him—but I hadn’t truly expected the Savile Row pin-up boy to willingly strip off and jump into a lake.

But he had turned up, and all the reasons I should never have texted him had come flooding back to me in a rush. Firstly, as Jane had so sensibly pointed out, I was supposed to be avoiding him to minimise the risk of exposing Bingley’s lie.

Secondly, I’d invited him to the very place where he’d meet Billy, the man Fiona had told him I’d gone on a date with behind Bingley’s back. He’d proceeded to scowl at the poor bloke as though he suspected him of murder not adultery.

Thirdly, he’d come wearing low-slung jogging bottoms and a tight sports compression top, which he’d proceeded to strip off, revealing a ripped body that had shorted my brain’s circuits for a few embarrassing seconds. Emerging from the Serpentine shaking water out of his hair like David Gandy in a cologne advert had frankly seemed like overkill.

Developing a crush on the man Bingley was trying to fool didn’t feel like a particularly good idea. Lying to him all morning, even if only by omission, had left a bad taste in my mouth, but I’d gone right off the idea of telling him the truth myself. It was mortifying that I’d ever agreed to it, and I was resolved that it was not my mess to clean up.

Bingley shook his head in obvious disbelief. “I bet he grumbled the whole time, didn’t he?”

“Actually, he was in an unusually good mood. His glare was positively muted when I teased him for driving there.”

“Oh, he has to do that because of how often he gets recognised otherwise. It’s that or a security detail, which he’d never agree to. He’s too private to be followed around all the time.”

“What do you mean, recognised? He’s not a celebrity.”

“No, but he’s been seen at enough galas and whatnot for people in the loop to know his face. Money has a way of attracting attention, and as the owner of the Pemberley Group, people assume he’s got a lot of it.”