Читать книгу Manolos In Manhattan - Katie Oliver - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“What are you talking about?” Holly wrenched herself from his grasp and stared at him in astonishment.

“Well,” he explained, his brow lifted in amusement, “a quickie is when two people are instantly, madly attracted to one another, and so they decide on the spur of the moment to get together for a very nice, very quick—”

“I know what a quickie is,” she interrupted. “And I’m most definitely not having one with you.”

“You’re not?” Surprise mingled with confusion crossed his face. “But why? I’m Ciaran Duncan, after all.”

“Because I’m engaged, for starters.”

“Then why,” he asked reasonably, “did you kiss me just now?”

Good question. Why did she kiss him just now? “I was...swept up in the moment. You caught me off guard.”

“Ah.” He smiled.

God, he was smug. “Oh, you think because you’re a film star, I’ll have sex with you, right here, right now? Because you’re famous?” she sputtered.

“Well...yes,” he said mildly. “Most women do.”

“Sorry, but I’m not ‘most women.’ God ‒ you’re an egotistical, oversexed jerk. I don’t even know you! We haven’t been on a date, or had a coffee together, or...or anything.”

“We could consider this a sort of date, couldn’t we?” he suggested, and lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ll buy you a coffee afterwards, if you like. I might even spring for one of those overpriced cookies.”

She snatched her hand away. “No thanks. I don’t sleep with strangers. Or self-important twits.”

“Well, that’s easily remedied.” He pulled out a cell phone from his breast pocket, opened the calendar, and began scrolling through it. “Let’s see...are you free tomorrow night? I’m not headed back to London until next Sunday. We can have an early dinner.” He eyed her expectantly. “And if you’ll let me, I can prove to you that I’m not an egotistical, oversexed jerk. Or a self-important twit.”

“What part of ‘I’m engaged’ don’t you get?”

“You’re not in love with your fiancé, whoever he is. If you were, you wouldn’t be here now.”

She gasped. “What? How dare you. You don’t know anything about my fiancé. Or me.”

“Interesting. I didn’t know women still said ‘how dare you,’” he replied, unperturbed. “And you’re right, I don’t know you. But I’d like to.”

Holly stared at him, too furious – and okay, too flattered by his interest, no matter how unwanted – to speak.

“One date. One dinner. That’s all I ask.” He smiled roguishly. “Think of it this way ‒ it’ll be good publicity for the store,” he pointed out. “And if, after dinner, you decide you still don’t like me, I’ll be winging my way to the other side of the Atlantic the very next day, and you’ll never see me again. Unless, of course, you go to see my new movie, Charmed, coming to theaters everywhere on first August.”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “You really do take the cake. Thanks, but the answer’s still no.”

Surprise flickered over his face, gone as quickly as it came, and his expression smoothed back into its customary amusement. “Well ‒ one can’t blame a chap for trying.”

He turned away to open the door.

“Maybe if I wasn’t engaged...” Holly blurted, and froze. Had this man – this actor – put her under some kind of a movie star spell, or something?

Thankfully, he didn’t hear her as he’d already stepped out into the hall. “I apologise if I misread the situation. Goodnight, Miss James.”

“Goodnight.”

As she followed him into the hall, she heard footsteps, and glanced up to see her father Alastair coming towards them. “Dad?” Oh, shit. She hoped he hadn’t seen her come out of the bathroom with Ciaran.

“Holly? What are you doing up here?” His glance flitted from his daughter to Ciaran and back to Holly again.

She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Mr Duncan needed the loo, and the downstairs ones were all occupied.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Actually,” Ciaran said, “I was just telling Holly that she and I should do a bit of publicity while I’m in town. Drum up some attention for the store.”

Alastair eyed him doubtfully. “Publicity? What sort of publicity did you have in mind?”

“I thought Holly and I might spend a day doing typical New York things – take the Staten Island ferry to the Statue of Liberty, ride a carriage round Central Park, dine at the Russian Tea Room or Tavern on the Green...and visit Dashwood and James’s new store before it officially opens, while the paparazzi snap pictures and proceed to plaster them all over the New York newspapers.”

Holly, impressed despite herself, regarded him in admiration. He was good.

Alastair was silent. “Well...I don’t know. I suppose it would generate a lot of interest…”

Ciaran smiled, his eyes still on Holly. “You have no idea.”

“What about me?” Holly turned back to her father. “Has anyone bothered to ask me how I feel about this crazy idea?”

“Actually,” Alastair mused, “I think it’s rather a good idea.”

“You can’t be serious.” She stared at him. “You are serious. There’s just one problem, or have you forgotten? I’m engaged.”

He sighed. “Oh, yes. There is that.”

It was no secret that her father, although he liked Jamie Gordon, Rhys’s adopted brother, well enough, didn’t completely approve of their engagement. He avowed that Jamie, with his long hours and ambitions to become a Michelin-starred chef, would never make proper time for a wife or family.

Which, Holly knew, was patently ridiculous.

“I shall speak to Jamie myself,” Alastair said, “and explain that you and Ciaran are doing a publicity junket for the store on‒” he paused “‒what day are we talking about, Mr Duncan?”

“Let’s see.” He studied the calendar app on his phone once again. “I have tomorrow free.”

“Tomorrow it is.”

Outrage swept over Holly. Now she knew how all of those unmarried, Jane Austen-y women must have felt, standing helplessly by as their fathers discussed their future with another man and left them completely out of the loop.

Well, she thought with gathering anger, she wasn’t helpless and she wasn’t about to stand by as her future – even if it were only tomorrow – was decided for her. She opened her mouth to refuse, to tell them both unequivocally that there was no way in hell she was spending one minute, much less her entire Sunday, with Ciaran Duncan – not even in the name of publicity.

But she hesitated. She knew how important the store’s upcoming launch was to her father. Dashwood and James was still on somewhat shaky ground, financially speaking; the New York store, if it did well, would go a long way to shoring up the family’s depleted coffers.

And after all, she mused as she studied Ciaran doubtfully from beneath lowered lashes, it was only for one day.

She could endure anything for one day. Even Ciaran Duncan.