“There’s always something to do around here,” he says with a half smile. “I appreciate that you cited it as a family emergency.”

“It was.”

He nods slowly, eyes roaming my face. “You put a lot of personality in those emails. Professional, but just enough cheek to keep them interesting. I looked forward to receiving them.”

Flirting. This is definitely flirtation. But Darcy? Mr. Tolerable himself, flirting? He who doesn’t “trust” my beloved avocation? It rouses a prickle of annoyance, though the sensation is outmatched by the sudden coil of pleasure twining in my belly.

Which is also annoying.

“Ah! Finn!” he calls to a server bearing a tray of champagne flutes.

The waiter, a young guy with a head of unruly copper curls, stops and smiles. “Will! Good to see you. Would you and the lady like a drink?”

“Bennet?”

“Sure.”

Darcy takes a champagne flute from either side of the tray, mindful to keep the waiter’s load balanced. He hands me a glass and I nod my thanks.

“Is this your last semester at NYU, or will you have another left?”

“One more,” Finn says. “The workload’s been brutal. But the internship is going well. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“No trouble,” says Darcy. He turns a little, making me more a part of the conversation. “I did my family the disservice of failing to go to law school myself. It would have been a crime to waste those connections. Besides”—he points to Finn—“you did the work.”

Finn nods, going pink in the cheeks. “Thanks anyway,” he insists, and raises his tray. “Sorry, I gotta keep moving these. Great seeing you. I’ll tell Fitz you said hello.” He sends me another little nod and moves on.

“Finn’s interning at my uncle’s law firm,” Darcy explains. “I’m sure Fitz is running him ragged, but it’s great experience.” He lifts his glass. I tip mine against it and echo his offered, “Cheers.” We watch one another as we drink.

“I take it you booked the night’s entertainment?” he inquires.

I shrug, dwelling on the decency—hell, generosity—of his hooking up that waiter. “It would be a crime to waste the connections.”

“I never would have thought about employing the space the way you are. You have a creative perspective.”

“I have experience in design.” The temptation to go into detail collides with my better judgment. I’m not about to admit to the hours I’ve spent fantasizing about remodeling this room, not when he’s been so dismissive of what I’d like to see play out on its stage. “Between that and working at Meryton, I can’t look at a crossbeam without considering how Ginn and Tonic might use it to scare the hell out of people.”