Fall For You [The Jane Austen Academy Series #1] (10 page)

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the way.”

He held out his hand—and it was then she finally took in his appearance. He was wearing dark board shorts and a white T-shirt that made him seem tan—and that only served to make his teeth whiter as he smiled and his eyes even bluer. She felt heat in her cheeks.

She hadn’t realized how good-looking Dante was—or maybe she had and that was part of what annoyed her about him. That much like Anne, everything seemed to come easily to him, although she now knew that wasn’t true for Anne. Not really.

“Elizabeth?” Dante asked, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Lizzie,” she blurted, which made her realize she hadn’t spoken a word since he’d found her. She must seem an idiot.

Dante smiled—a real, dazzling smile—and Lizzie felt her entire body cramp, down to the curling of each toe.

“Well, come on, Lizzie,” he said. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

* * *

Why was Dante being nice to her? Not just civil—actually nice. He’d shown her the way to the lake. He had gone back into the house to bring her a towel when she realized she’d forgotten one of her own. He had brought her a bottle of water when she’d breezed by the picnic table of food to jump straight into the lake—as if dunking her head under the cool, clear waters would shake off her nerves from nearly being caught sneaking into the office suite.

It hadn’t helped at all, she decided as she lay back on the dock to catch the last hour of sunshine. She felt more confused than ever.

“Watch this,” Georgiana said before running off the dock and catapulting straight into the lake.

“I will not be outdone,” Edward said with a battle cry as he ran after her, jumping clear over her and landing six feet farther out.

Lizzie saw Dante’s smile soften as he watched his sister—perhaps that was it. Perhaps he was on his best behavior for Georgiana. Perhaps he wasn’t so abhorrent, given how he cared for her…even if he was completely misguided about her participation in Journalism.

Dante leaned over his lounge chair to say something to Rick, who was lounging next to him. Rick pulled off his sunglasses to answer.

Lizzie wished she could mic every conversation around her. She always wanted to know what people were saying—she supposed that was what made her so into journalism. Dante whispered something and Rick nodded.

Why were they being so secretive? Was Dante tattling on her? Or did he have secrets, too? And what were they?

She mentally shook herself. She had more important stories to tackle than Dante’s secrets. More important things to think about, too.

Anne emerged from the water looking like something out of a cologne commercial.

“Are you feeling better?” Lizzie asked Anne as she stretched out to sunbathe next to her. She looked like an exotic goddess in her gold bikini and made Lizzie feel like a beached white cow.

“This all feels so surreal,” Anne said.

“I feel like I’m on a reality television show or something,” Lizzie agreed. “This house…the servants.”

“They’re not servants,” Anne said. “They’re employees—with health benefits and everything. But that’s not what I mean. I just meant…”

Lizzie leaned in, waiting for her answer but instead of continuing, Anne just sighed.

Lizzie didn’t need Ann to say more to know what she was sighing about. “You should ask him out.”

Anne’s eyes flew open, darkening in shock.

“You should. Rick’s a nice guy—maybe not Edward nice—but he’s nice. He takes care of his mom. That’s a plus.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“You have history, but so what—that’s the past,” Lizzie said. “You’re clearly into each other. You spend more energy not being around each other than most couples expend on dating.”

Anne peeked over at Rick, and Lizzie could almost taste the angst. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please, put us innocent bystanders out of our misery.” Lizzie smiled encouragingly and got to her feet.

She stretched and walked toward the pier. She sat and dipped her toes into the lake, glancing behind her. The scene felt like something out of a commercial. They were all so happy, all smiles. The staff was grilling up burgers for them on a small island grill. Mrs. Wright stopped by to check on them before retiring for the night, warning them not to swim too much after dark.

Lizzie couldn’t help but feel a moment of resentment. Rick’s mom, who was recovering from cancer, had time for Rick when her own parents couldn’t spare the time to make her dinner – hence her being shipped off to boarding school. Although, she reminded herself, her parents were the ones treating sick patients like Rick’s mom. She stood and dove off the pier and surfaced to clean strokes.

Somehow, here, in this life, Lizzie felt like she could put all those feelings behind her for a while.

Edward cannonballed in after her so that a wave of water splashed over her head. He surfaced, grinning.

“Isn’t the weather amazing?” he said, flipping onto his back to float while he stared at the sky. “Almost sunset and it’s still warm. Minnesota isn’t like this on its best day.”

“Neither is Chicago,” Lizzie said. “It’s either too cold or too hot to live.”

“Ellie said Santa Cruz weather is even better than Merrywood.”

“She did?” Lizzie said, swimming closer. “When were you talking to Ellie?”

“Uh…lunch? Yesterday, maybe? She’s out on the town with Emma today, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Lizzie’s mood immediately soured. How could she have forgotten that this weekend wasn’t supposed to be about fun and games? If she wanted fun and games, then she’d be hanging out with her best friend Ellie. Instead, she was supposed to be undercover, investigating her big story.

“I’m going for another cannonball,” Edward said, kicking for the pier. “Fair warning!”

Lizzie watched as he pulled himself up onto the pier—then she yelped loudly and grabbed her leg.

Everyone’s heads swiveled toward her.

“Cramp,” she said—parlaying her excuse so she could go inside and take a closer look at the pictures. “I better get out.”

But just as she was starting to swim back toward the pier, Dante shot up from his chair and sprinted for the water, diving in beside her. He surfaced to her right, and she felt his hand circle around her waist. The shock of his skin sliding against hers sent her pulse into overdrive.

“Hold on,” he said, kicking off to pull them back toward land. “Slow breathing will also help the cramps.”

She was so dumbfounded by his chivalrous reaction that she tightened her hands around his neck and held on as he paddled.

His lashes were long, blond, and spattered with drops of water from the lake. They even clung to his eyebrows and to a soft shade of stubble on his chin. His chest was touching hers—touching!—separated only by the thinnest of swimsuit materials.

Dante let go of her as he pulled himself up on the pier. By then, Edward and Georgiana had come out of the water, and even Anne and Rick were standing there, waiting to pull them in. Lizzie noted with satisfaction that in the chaos, Anne and Rick were standing inches apart, and she could have sworn Rick’s gaze kept drifting to Anne’s face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Lizzie insisted as she realized Dante was going to pick her up—and what, carry her back to her room?

Dante seemed reluctant to let her get to her own feet and he hovered over her as she pulled herself onto the pier and upright.

“I’m fine,” she said again, exasperated, as she shooed them off. “I only need to catch my breath. I think I might be done swimming.”

“Dinner will be served in just a few minutes,” Rick said. “But if you’d rather have it in the dining room—”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Lizzie said before everyone would stampede inside, ruining her chances of checking out the office. “I’ll just change into something warmer and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t worry.”

It took a few more minutes of convincing, but finally, Lizzie made her way inside, towel-dried off, and pulled on her jeans and sweater.

Now for a detour back to the office.

Chapter Eight

Lizzie dug her phone out of her back pocket and snapped a photo of the wall of framed pictures. She moved quickly, stepping to the right to take another round of photos, then another. There were so many people in these photos—dozens!

She recognized a few. She had covered the Jasta fundraiser two years ago and interviewed several prestigious alumni—oooh, that reminded her, could she get a list of alumni who could be swayed to her cause?

How many minutes had passed? Certainly more than ten –but there was another wall of photos yet to go, plus the pictures on the desk. Lizzie moved quickly to the other side of the office, wincing when her shoes squeaked on the aging wood floor. She raised her phone to frame the picture on the wall—and slowly lowered it.

The picture was a Christmas shot—one of Rick from a few years ago, because he barely looked like a teenager and his mother looked like a movie star and very healthy. With them stood Dante, Georgiana, and an older couple. Were they his parents? They had to be.

Dante had an arm slung around Rick’s shoulders and was pushing Georgiana, who looked so young, away from him as she went in for a hug. Something about Dante’s face was different. He seemed younger, yes, but more relaxed. As if he found it easier to smile. What had happened to change him?

Now he was so serious and intent. Like he’d dove into the lake to save her from a cramp even though she wasn’t in any danger.

He would have done it for anyone, probably, she told herself. What a story for the Georgetown college entrance exam—
Dante saves girl from drowning
. Although no, that wasn’t generous. He hadn’t been thinking of that when he’d jumped in after her. Probably more likely that Rick didn’t need a stupid girl drowning at the party his mom had made him throw.

Rick and Dante being roommates at Jasta was no coincidence. They were friends…or at least friendly enough that their parents knew each other.

Lizzie heard a creak behind her.

“That was taken three years ago.”

She spun around, heart pounding.

Dante stood a few feet away. His hair was still wet and his T-shirt clung to his stomach. “Sorry if I startled you. I …when you didn’t come back after ten minutes...”

“I was just looking at some pictures—is this you?”

Dante smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Lizzie said defensively.

“You were in this room earlier. I saw you, remember? I don’t know why, but I’m sure you’re not just looking at pictures.”

“Maybe I’m asking for drama,” she said bravely.

He grinned, but crossed his arms, as if waiting for a real answer.

He was savvier than she’d given him credit for, and she knew a lie wouldn’t work. Besides, so what if he knew the truth? Dante didn’t seem to care about Jasta one way or the other. “Mrs. Wright knows the new owners of the Academy, and I thought their pictures might be in this room.”

Dante’s eye twitched, but otherwise his face remained impassive, giving no indication as to whether he’d tell Rick’s mom what she had been up to. Especially now that she knew they had history. As much as Lizzie believed in her cause, she didn’t want Mrs. Wright to think badly of her.

“There must be fifty people in these pictures,” was all he said after a moment.

“That’s part of journalism,” Lizzie said with a shrug. “Research.”

Dante’s gaze swept the room, finally returning to the picture of him with Rick’s parents. He smirked a little at the picture as he picked it up. “We had convinced Georgiana, who had just stopped believing in Santa, that he
was
real, and that our parents told us he was fake to get us on the naughty list so they’d get the better gifts.”

“She fell for that?” Lizzie asked, unable to hold back a smile.

“Only for a couple of days, but enough time for her to be so scared of being on the naughty list that she did everything we asked—including giving up her dessert at dinner.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Lizzie said.

Silence ticked by for a few seconds and Lizzie felt her skin growing warm. She didn’t want to push him for information—but what did he intend to do about catching her snooping through Mrs. Wright’s stuff?

Dante took a step toward her, then another.

Lizzie’s fingers strummed against her thighs with nervous energy. What was he doing?

He took another step, only a foot away from her, then another so they were nose to nose. He smelled good—like summer. Her heart was skittering in her chest, she swore it raced through her body. She automatically wet her lips, not sure what to expect, not sure what he wanted.

Dante took another step and brushed past her.

Lizzie felt the cold stun of disappointment, although she didn’t know why. What had she been expecting? What had she been thinking? That he was going to kiss her? Why would he do that when he didn’t even like her? Why would she even want him to kiss her?