Darcy knew the man sat on the opposite side of the car was making sexual advances towards him even though subtle, and despite being married to a woman considered to be one of the most beautiful in the world.

Darcy knew this because Collins Forster looked at him with more than an avid interest, and because Darcy had manipulated things somewhat to catch him out.

When he caught the man checking out his arse as he climbed into the Bentley, he dismissed it. When he felt Collins staring at him as he looked out at the bright Vegas scenery, he initially rejected the notion as absurd, but some part of Darcy had decided to test out the theory for his peace of mind. Darcy Austen didn’t like to be blindsided by anyone.

With understated but purposeful movements, Darcy had spread his thighs slightly and then moved his hand to his neck where he proceeded to undo the top two buttons of his dress shirt, exposing the tanned column of his throat.

Collins Forster had drunk in his movements avariciously, but that wasn’t what solidified Darcy’s belief. No, what proved it undoubtedly was the growing bulge between the other man’s legs.

Darcy was a man that believed in to each their own. He couldn’t care less what your sexual preferences were, but one thing he didn’t like was philanderers. If you’d committed yourself to someone, you respected that oath. Now, he knew Pemberley and Collins didn’t have a typical marriage. He’d seen that for himself first hand, but, in his eyes at least, if you couldn’t work with your partner to resolve your issues, you set them free. This was why he’d never come close to marriage. He’d yet to find that one woman to whom he knew he could promise forever.

“How long have you and Pemberley been married?”

Darcy broke the silence in the car with a question to douse Collins’ seemingly swelling ardour.

Collins shifted in his seat, and his gaze dropped to his manicured fingers. For an action movie star, he sure did look very sophisticated and smooth. Darcy was expecting someone a little more rugged.

“Seven or eight years, give or take,” Collins offered disinterestedly.

“Love at first sight?” Darcy pressed. The words thick in his throat because he never talked about topics like this with strangers, but he wanted the other man’s focus on his wife and not Darcy’s Adam’s apple.

“Oh, most definitely,” Collins nodded emphatically, yet Darcy could taste the lie in the air. “Pembs was the brand-new starlet every man in Hollywood wanted, and I got her.

“Huh, so you’ve known Eliza Bennet for a while then?”

Collins’ eyes lit up, and he finally lifted his head to lock his gaze with Darcy’s. The change in topic was evidently pleasing him.

“You don’t keep up with entertainment news then, I take it?”

“Nope. Got better things to do with my time.”

Collins ignored the barb.

“Maybe after a few drinks and a couple of games of cards I can fill you in on little miss perfect.”

“Why don’t you fill me in now?” Darcy pressed, leaning casually back in his seat not wanting to seem too eager to hear what this man had to say about his ice princess.

No, not his.

“It’s a tale for at least a double shot, my man,” Collins drawled, his eyes sparkling at the thought of reeling Darcy into his web.

The thing was, Darcy wasn’t sure he could believe a single word that fell from this man’s mouth, but he still wanted to know what he thought he had over Eliza.

“Fair enough,” Darcy conceded. “So, are you in town for business or pleasure?”

Collins’ smile turned lascivious. “Pleasure, always pleasure. How about you?”

Darcy was unsure how to answer. He didn’t wish for this man to know any of his family’s business, but he wasn’t fond of lying either, so he remained silent.

“How long have you known Miss Bennet?” Collins asked when the silence between them stretched out too long.

“That is also a tale for a double shot,” Darcy mumbled, using the man’s previous words against him.

“Then let us imbibe until our words flow freely,” Collins suggested eagerly as the Bentley pulled up outside one of the strip’s many casinos.

“You use the front entrance?” Darcy asked although it was more of a musing than a question.

Collins’ eyes glinted, and he straightened his clothing before placing his hand on the door to disembark.

“What can I say? The fans love to see me, and who am I to deprive them? After all, I’m known as the people’s action hero.”

Without waiting for the driver to open his door, Collins disembarked, not bothering to wait for Darcy. The man just assumed he would follow.

Darcy stepped from the car and caught the eye of the driver.

“Is it easy to grab a cab out here?”

“Yes, sir. If you ask the concierge, they will call one for you.”

Darcy thanked the man and made his way to the casino’s glass doors which swung open as he approached. Inside the smoky-hued space, lights and sounds overtook his senses, and disorientated, Darcy looked for the man with whom he’d arrived.

He found Collins preening like a peacock while signing autographs for a small crowd of tourists. The man was generous with his smiles and with his time as he took pictures and chatted, but Darcy could tell he got more from the interaction than his fans. He lapped it up, revelled in the adoration and puffed out his chest, enticing others to him with his colourful plumes of fame and money.

“Ah, there you are,” Collins called out when he eventually noticed Darcy on the outskirts of the circle of fans.

“I’m sorry folks,” Collins apologised while shaking hands and hugging the strangers surrounding him. “I’m here with a new friend, and I promised to show him the sights. You have a great day, and don’t forget the next Extinguish movie is in theatres next month.”

Darcy almost rolled his eyes at Collins’ self-promotion, and wondered if it was too early to call a taxi and ditch this guy, but he wanted to know what he had to say about Eliza first.

The small crowd dispersed and Collins grinned.

“Come, my friend. I believe I promised you a drink or three.”

Collins went to wrap his arm around Darcy’s shoulders but was hindered by his much taller frame. Collins stood at around five foot eight, while Darcy was an easy six foot two, and the shorter man had to settle for encouraging him to follow his lead instead. Darcy was glad of his height. He wasn’t a touchy-feely person anyway, but having a strange man, one he was unlikely ever to consider a friend, pull him into his body, especially knowing this man held some attraction for Darcy, was beyond uncomfortable. Darcy didn’t want to cut off his nose to spite his face, he wanted that information on Eliza Bennet, but he also wasn’t willing to pimp himself out to get it. He had some standards and seducing another man definitely wasn’t one of them.

“What’s your poison?” Collins asked, taking a seat at the nearest bar.

“I’ll take whatever you’re having.”

“Ah, an easy man,” Collins leered. “My favourite type.”

Darcy swallowed down his embarrassment and made as if he hadn’t heard the innuendo.

“We’ll take a round of whiskies,” Collins informed the bartender as he approached. “Bring them to the booth,” he added, not bothering with any politeness, and motioning his head so Darcy and the bartender could see his intended destination.

“If we’re going to share secrets like schoolgirls, I’d like some privacy,” Collins said too close to Darcy’s ear, making him grit his teeth to fight off the urge to recoil from this man’s nearness and constant infringing of his personal space.

Collins stretched out his well-muscled frame across one side of the booth and ignoring the space beside the man looking at him like he was his next meal, Darcy took the opposite side.

Thankfully their drinks were delivered within seconds, halting the need for Darcy to fill the silence and finally making Collins drag his eyes away from him.

“You never did tell me why you’re in Vegas,” Collins pressed. “And seeing as you now have a drink in your hand, I think it’s fair to say we’re old drinking buddies. You can tell me.”

Darcy sipped the amber liquid in his glass and took in the hustle and bustle all around them, noticing many sets of eyes land on his companion in recognition.

At length, he replied, “My brother’s wedding.”

“Jane Bennet, the eternal old-maid, is marrying that geeky guy there today? He’s your brother?”

Darcy didn’t like the derogatory way Collins spoke about his brother and Jane, but bit his tongue.

“No, not Jane and Bing. My brother Wick has married Lydia Bennet.”

Collins’ eyes widened comically before he laughed so hard he choked on his drink and liquid spittle covered the table top.

“Well, fuck-me-sideways. That little minx has gone and pissed off her sister this time, I bet.”

Darcy leaned back in the booth, stretching an arm across the seat and once more feigned disinterest.

“I wouldn’t know. I hardly know the Bennets.”

Collins’ eyes narrowed before he used the back of his hand to wipe away any stray whiskey from his mouth. He leaned forward, cleared all the lust from his gaze and shocked Darcy with his next words.

“You really don’t know what happened do you? How Eliza Bennet broke up my marriage. How she betrayed her so-called best friend and how Pemberley forgave her but not me?”

* * *

Bing had just climbed into bed in one of Pemberley Gardiner’s luxuriously appointed guest rooms when he heard the door opening.

He lifted his head from the cotton encased pillow and saw Jane nervously standing in front of the now closed door.

She wore nothing except an old band t-shirt that fell to her knees and her hair was unbound with golden waves falling over her shoulders to her breasts. Had she been naked, those golden strands would’ve been enough to cover her curves from Bing’s perusal.

Her gaze locked with his before flitting away briefly to look at the drawn blinds, and Bing pushed himself up to sitting.

“Are you okay?”

Jane’s eyes found his once more and on barely a whisper she asked, “Would you think badly of me if I asked may I sleep in with you?”

Bing didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled back the covers in silent invitation.

Jane tentatively took the few steps needed for her knees hit the bed and then she hesitated.

“It’s only me,” Bing promised her softly. “You and me. No one else is here. There’s no need for any awkwardness between us. Now come and sleep in my arms, because I know I’ll sleep better having you there.”

At his words, Jane didn’t falter. With an innate grace, she fluidly crawled up the bed and into Bing’s arms. Her head found his bare chest and her palm covered his heart.

Bing had never felt anything as right.

“Sleep, sweet Jane.”

Bing wrapped one arm around Jane’s waist and tugged her closer. Her responding sigh tickled the skin of his chest, and his other hand held hers across his heart.

Sleep came to them both quickly. Jane dreaming of the man who held her close, and Bing dreaming of all their tomorrows.

Connected in their sleepy embrace, their bodies learned the feel of each other not by making love, but by letting love make them.