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  Elizabeth let out a charged huff of air.

  Uncle Ed grunted and pushed himself up to a standing position. “All right, I’m off to bed. You’re dead on your feet—you should head downstairs.”

  Elizabeth kissed her uncle on the cheek. “You have no idea how much this means,” she said softly. It wasn’t even the money, though she was happy to have it. They’d thought about her when she was gone, still considered her one of theirs.

  Uncle Ed met her gaze, his expression softening. “Actually, Staff Sgt. Bennet,” he said fondly, “I believe I do.”

  Will was walking home when Richard called. He answered on the first ring.

  “Hey,” he answered, his voice warm.

  Richard sounded confused. “There’s lots of background noise. Where are you, cuz?”

  “I’m outside,” Will replied. “Just walking home from SCORE, then headed to training. Keeping busy.”

  Richard was quiet for a moment. “Oh right, the mentoring thing?”

  Will sighed. “Yes, the mentoring thing, small business owners, all that. I’ve only been doing it for four years. Stop trying to distract me. Have you looked over the position description list?”

  “Yes,” Richard replied, “but that’s not why I’m calling.”

  Will was disappointed. “You were serious about this, right? You weren’t just trying to get me off the phone?”

  “No, I’m thinking it through, Will. It’s a big decision.”

  “Yeah,” Will muttered. His good mood had evaporated. Richard had no intention of leaving the Marines. His cousin had just been stringing him along and he’d fallen for it.

  Richard didn’t seem to notice the change in Will’s voice. “Listen, Will, I need a favor.”

  “Of course you do,” he said with a grimace. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to hire a colleague of mine. She’s a friend and really good at what she does . . .”

  Which is what, exactly? Will thought sourly.

  There was some static on the line and then someone bellowed Richard’s name. His cousin cursed softly. “This woman is going to kill me,” he grumbled. “Will, I have to go. Watch for her résumé. I’ll have Wanda set it up.”

  “No,” Will said. “I don’t want to hire . . .” But he was talking to himself.

  Like everything in the Gardiner household, the basement was well-used but clean. There was a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall. Toy bins and bookshelves lined the wall opposite. A pull-out sofa sat in the middle of the room, anchored by a rug and a battered coffee table. Elizabeth tossed a skeptical look at the forest of half-dressed mannequins taking up the corner of the room nearest the foot of the stairs. She dressed for bed, but didn’t have enough energy left to pull out the bed before she flopped onto the sofa face down. She fell asleep almost immediately.

  Elizabeth was awakened by a small face hovering inches from her own. “Sarah,” she grumbled, only half-awake.

  “Cartoons,” the four-year-old demanded, her dirty-blonde hair knotted and wild. She was clad in her blue and yellow footed pajamas and clutched a stuffed pink elephant by its tail. It was a sweet picture that contrasted sharply with the girl’s imperious command.

  “Mmm,” Elizabeth said sleepily, rooting around, eventually locating the remote under her hip and pulling it out. “Here you go.”

  Sarah took it wordlessly, clicked on the television, and plopped on the ground in front of the coffee table, watching her shows at a volume that precluded further slumber. Elizabeth sat up as her phone buzzed in her pocket. Wow, I was so tired I didn’t even remember to charge it, she thought, eyeing the battery indicator.

  She glanced at the screen. Abby. That was fast. She checked the message—Abby was suggesting a call on Monday. She had no doubt her former commander would try to talk her into working for her again, but she’d also pass along other, less exciting jobs. The Abbot liked to take care of her people, and Elizabeth had always felt lucky to be counted among them.

  Yes, she typed, and sent the message.

  There was an earlier text from Major Fitzwilliam. Are you home?

  Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and checked the time. 6:30 am. Good gravy, kid, she thought, looking at Sarah. I will not last long in this house. She rummaged through her belongings to locate the charger, plugged in her phone, and began to type.

  Home, but sleeping! Or I was until a small human demanded her couch back.

  Her phone buzzed again after a minute. Hungover? he replied.

  She snorted. Jet lagged, yes, but two margaritas wasn’t enough to put her down. Not remotely.

  Another buzz. I want you to interview at FORGE on Monday.

  FORGE. Elizabeth recalled the name, but not much else. Fortunately, the next message was an explanation. My cousin’s company. Mine too.

  He owned part of a company in Manhattan? He’d been holding out on her. Have a family bbq that night. Besides, might have something already. She’d promised Charlotte she’d play soccer, too. Maybe she could use that as an excuse.

  The major’s response was lightning fast. Have you signed a contract?

  Elizabeth sighed. No.

  Take the interview. I’ll make it early.

  She grimaced. So much for not taking orders. Do I need to dress up?

  Yes.

  Strike one. Already I don’t want to work there.

  Too bad. You said you’d do it. I’ll get a time for you and text back.

  Elizabeth almost laughed. When did I say I’d do it?

  You implied it.

  “Not even,” she said aloud. I think I hate you, sir.

  Richard now. You’re a civilian.

  She sighed. Civilian. And loving it.

  Elizabeth plucked some clean clothes out of her duffel and headed for the stairs, startling when she blinked the sleep from her eyes and found herself staring into the blank face of a mannequin. At least this early I might get a shower before all the hot water is gone.

  Things are looking up. Money. Interview. I need to find Jane and Mary so we can go shopping.

  After an early morning meeting on Monday, Will Darcy paused at Wanda’s desk in the outer office and handed her a stack of hard-copy backup files. She passed over a few pages held together by a paperclip.

  “What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to look at it.

  “Elizabeth Bennet’s résumé,” Wanda said.

  Will cocked his head at her, mystified, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

  “The candidate Mr. Fitzwilliam recommended for an interview.”

  Will was annoyed. He’d spent the rest of the weekend irritated with Richard, who hadn’t been available to talk, and had taken out his frustration on a heavy bag in the gym. That was followed by trying and failing to get in touch with Georgiana. His trainer had worked him hard this morning, but it wasn’t enough.

  He was in no mood to do his cousin a favor, particularly if that included hiring or even interviewing someone who had no corporate experience. He had tried to speak to Richard again, but his cousin wasn’t answering his phone. Will left a voicemail and several texts before he finally gave up. Well, he wasn’t about to just cave in to Richard’s demands. He didn’t tell Richard how to do his job.

  Elizabeth was sitting in Mr. Darcy’s office. It was all clean lines with light blue-gray walls and white trim. There was a large window overlooking midtown Manhattan that let in a good deal of natural light. There were a few paintings and a large Japanese scroll that hung directly across from the large desk. She wondered what it said. Richard would know.

  Eventually, she heard voices in the outer office, where Ms. Soames, Mr. Darcy’s assistant, had her desk. Elizabeth turned toward the sound. As she quickly ran her hands down her skirt to smooth out any wrinkles, she caught her first look of him through the doorway. Whoa.

  The CEO was much younger than she had expected, thirty or even a bit younger. His hair was a few shades darker than her own, cut short and neat. When he straightened, she could
see he was tall, at least 6’2” if not a bit more, and fit. His jawline was strong, which she found immensely appealing. Stop it, Bennet, she told herself sternly. You’re here to interview, not get a date. She thought she might have to thank Richard, though. I guess it wouldn’t be such a punishment to work here.

  Then he opened his mouth and spoke.

  “This isn’t a charity,” Will announced loudly, exasperated. He pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. Yes, there was the interview. It must be new. Wanda’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, but he didn’t want to argue. He was still angry with his cousin and let it all come pouring out. “I don’t have time to interview Richard’s ex-Marine girlfriends or cast-offs or whatever, when they have no qualifications and nowhere else to go.”

  “Mr. Darcy,” Wanda hissed. She had an expression of annoyed disbelief on her face, and he finally suspected he was in trouble. With an almost exaggerated slowness, she lifted her eyebrows tilted her head slightly in the direction of his office. Shit. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them and turning to face the music.

  There, in the entry to the inner office, was—he checked the résumé again—Elizabeth Bennet. She was tall, standing approximately six feet in her two-inch black heels. A thin black belt around her dark green business suit gathered the folds of the suit jacket, accentuating her trim waist. Her chestnut-colored hair was pinned back neatly, leaving the length of it to hang down her back. One strand fell defiantly across her shoulder where the end curled into a lazy ‘C.’ Her pencil skirt was hemmed just at her knees, revealing lean, toned, shapely legs. Athletic and lithe, he thought. All she needed was a suitable hat and she’d have been the very model of a 1940s movie star, minus the garish red lipstick and overly painted face. He blinked before reason reasserted itself. Probably broke and dumb as a rock. Her piercing green eyes were bright with . . . what? Anger? No, that wasn’t it.

  “Nothing personal, Ms. Bennet,” Darcy said firmly. His voice was not apologetic, and he struggled to appear impassive in preparation for the outburst of emotion he expected. “It’s just that we don’t offer interviews based entirely upon recommendations from people who are not employed here.”

  To his surprise, she seemed entirely unfazed by his comments. In fact, she appeared to be appraising him, her eyes taking him in. If he was reading her expression correctly, her assessment had found him wanting.

  Elizabeth was incredibly irritated. This guy is Richard’s cousin?

  “I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Darcy,” she said as soon as she could compose herself. I am going to kill Richard. Bought a suit, took the train. I didn’t even want this job. She arched an eyebrow and spoke, placing a delicate emphasis on certain words. “I would have preferred, however, to be treated as a professional and have you say so to me rather than Ms. Soames.” She returned to the chair to retrieve her computer bag. Too bad he’s an ass, she thought. All those good looks wasted.

  As she left his office, she stopped and stared straight into his eyes. “I told Richard I wasn’t comfortable with this. I’m not used to being offered things based on who I know, but he insisted the company needed someone with my programming and cyber-security background, and I suppose he thought my security clearances might prove useful.” She tucked her phone into a holster located on her waist but hidden by the jacket. When she looked up, she noticed her name on the lone document he was holding. It was her résumé. “Don’t worry. I’ll just tell Richard it wasn’t a good fit.”

  She walked up to him and deftly removed her résumé from his hands. “But understand this, Mr. Darcy,” she said, acid in her tone, “I am nobody’s cast-off.”

  Elizabeth thanked Ms. Soames, smiled at her, and took three steps toward the door. Mr. Darcy hadn’t moved, so when she turned her head, she was speaking to his right ear. “Oh, just one more thing. There may be inactive or retired Marines, but there are no ex-Marines. Once a Marine, always a Marine.” She offered an icy smile. “Good day, Mr. Darcy.”

  Will let out the breath he had been holding as the door to the outer office clicked shut. I’m going to kill Richard, he thought. I don’t even need anyone in IT. And I don’t believe he wasn’t dating her. He must have wanted to, at least. She’s beautiful. He turned back to Wanda to see her laughing silently, her shoulders shaking.

  “Oh, don’t give me that look, Mr. Darcy,” she said lightly. “She got you good.” With a broad smile and a shake of the head, her hot pink flamingo earrings swinging merrily, she added, “And I must say you deserved it.”

  “Hold my calls,” Darcy grunted and stalked into his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Chapter Seven

  Richard’s phone began to vibrate, shimmying away from his beer. He figured it would be Will wanting to discuss Bennet, so he excused himself from the other officers at the table and walked outside. It wasn’t Will. Instead, it was Bennet herself.

  Not a good fit, Richard.

  Richard was shocked. What?

  He’s not interviewing.

  Well, that was just stupid. Of course he is.

  He says he isn’t.

  The general had kept him busy all weekend. He’d known Will wasn’t happy with him, but it wasn’t like him to turn down a candidate like Bennet. What did he say? Exactly?

  No response. Richard waited. Still no response. He opened his contact list and selected Bennet’s number.

  She picked up on the first ring. “What do you want, Richard?” she asked, clearly peeved.

  “I want to talk to you,” he shot back. “What the hell happened?” There was a long silence. “Bennet?”

  She sighed. “So humiliating,” he heard her mumble. She raised her voice a little. “He thought I slept with you to get an interview.”

  Richard’s mouth dropped open. “He said that?”

  Another silence before she replied, “He implied it.”

  He felt his stomach begin to clench and his shoulders tense. “What, exactly, did he say?”

  She hesitated, and then, as though she was spitting something poisonous out of her mouth, repeated his cousin’s words. They struck Richard like a hammer, particularly the parts about “ex-Marine girlfriend or castoff” and “not employed by the company.”

  This time it was Richard who was silent. Finally, he said, “Bennet, I’m going to have to call you back.”

  She muttered something Richard didn’t catch, but when he asked her to repeat it, she spoke up, furious. “Don’t ever set me up like that again,” she snarled and ended the call. Richard hit the speed dial for Will.

  “Richard,” he heard his cousin say warily. “Before you say anything…”

  “What the hell, Will?” Richard yelled, then lowered his voice as a young couple passing nearby picked up their heels and scurried down the sidewalk. “I send you an incredible prospect, and you call her a whore?”

  “I didn’t . . .” Will had the audacity to sound indignant.

  Richard felt his cheeks burning. He never got this angry—at least, he never let it show. “You called her my cast-off. She’s a smart woman, Will, she knows how to read between the lines. And before you say it, she only told me it wasn’t a good fit. I knew that wasn’t true, so I forced her to explain.”

  Will was silent for a moment before saying, weakly, “I didn’t mean it like that, and I didn’t know she was in my office.”

  “In what universe does that matter?” Richard hollered.

  “Richard…”

  “You want me to be a part of the company, you beg me to leave the Corps. For years, you’ve been on me, you put on the full-court press after De Roos, and the first time I recommend someone, you call her a whore and refuse to interview her?” He took a breath and when he spoke again, his voice was low, cold. “It’s bad enough you would do that to Bennet, who happens to be one of the finest people I know, but it also shows that you haven’t got any respect for me at all.”

  “You know that’s not true,” his cousin protested.

&nb
sp; “It’s not? You accused her of sleeping her way into an interview—with me. As if I would use the promise of an interview with the company to get laid? Or even better, to engage in that kind of behavior and then palm her off on you once I was done with her?” Richard began pacing as he spoke. “You didn’t even interview her, Will, just insulted her after I had to convince her to even take the meeting.”

  Will sounded confused. “Why would you have to convince her?”

  Richard threw his arms up. He squelched the urge to scream. Once he was under control, he brought the phone back to his ear with one hand and rested the other against the back of his head. He could feel a stress headache coming on. “How are you even in business, Will?” he asked, incredulous. “She’s incredibly over-qualified, that’s why.” He knew Will couldn’t see him counting on his fingers, but he did it anyway. “MPS in Information Security, experience in cyber-threat analytics and prevention for the Corps, programs her own software, experience setting up and repairing networks, sometimes under fire—and that’s just the beginning.” Richard had to stop briefly so he could regroup. His anger was increasing his volume again. “She plans to consult and within a day of getting home already has a line on some work. I basically ordered her not to sign a contract until you could talk to her.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was trying to get her on board before we couldn’t afford her anymore.” He paused as something occurred to him. “Oh, for God’s sake, Will. Did you even read her résumé?”

  “Didn’t have time,” Will said, but he sounded more apologetic now than insistent.

  “You forgot all about her when you ended our call, right?”

  Will exploded. “You ended our call, Richard. And I remember very clearly saying I didn’t want to interview your prospect. If you were going to make an appointment anyway, a little more notice might have helped.”