Читать книгу Manolos In Manhattan - Katie Oliver - Страница 17

Chapter Eight

“I thought we’d go for a carriage ride around Central Park. After we have lunch,” he added firmly. “I’m really hungry.”

She looked over at him and smiled. “I’m impressed. The Russian Tea Room...a chauffeured car...”

“And the pleasure of my company,” he finished as he grinned at her. “What more could a girl want?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Holly said as she settled back and the car glided into the stream of traffic headed towards West 57th Street. “A little humility, maybe?”

“Humility is vastly overrated, Miss James. Spend enough time with me, and you’ll soon agree.”

Well, Holly couldn’t help thinking, if this is a typical day out with a film star...I could certainly get used to it.

The Russian Tea Room was as rich and opulent as the inside of a Fabergé egg. They were escorted to a quiet table in the back, where Ciaran ordered appetizers of caviar and salmon gravlax; for their main course they had the most amazing Chicken Kiev. Dessert was a shared plate of cheese and cherry blinis topped with vanilla ice cream.

“That was incredible, Ciaran,” Holly said with a sigh as she pushed her plate away. “Thank you.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” he assured her as he stood up and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

New Yorkers – being New Yorkers – noticed the famous British actor and his date, but pretended they didn’t. Holly saw the covert glances cast their way as they left, and the excited whispers behind hands. She suppressed a smile. Thank goodness she’d listened to Chaz and worn this outfit. As always, he was right – otherwise, she would’ve looked like an over-dressed teenager in the publicity photos their outing would generate.

“Where will we go after our carriage ride?” Ciaran inquired as he slid in next to her on the back seat. “We’ve all of Manhattan at our disposal.” He nodded imperceptibly at the driver, and the car glided forward.

“Well,” Holly said, studying the colorful blur of taxis as they flashed past the Town Car’s tinted windows, “we could take a walk through Times Square.”

“We could,” he agreed. “But I’d be mobbed. Perhaps instead,” he added as he leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers as he took her hand, “we could go back to my hotel room, and get to know each another better.”

Holly stared at him, her lips parted in outrage. “Mr Duncan!”

“Kidding,” he said, and laughed as he let go of her hand and relaxed back against the seat. “Your expression was priceless, Miss James. What would you have done,” he added as he glanced at her in amusement, “if I’d been serious? Would I have lived up – or should I say, down – to your already low expectations?”

She glared at him. “You would’ve ensured that I’d never watch another one of your silly rom-coms again. Especially not the one about the English veterinarian,” she added.

“Indeed?” He wore a hurt expression. “What about the one where I meet the store owner’s beautiful daughter, but I can’t get past her initial bad impression of me?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen that one.”

“It’s a good one, actually, one of my best. Except–” he leaned forward once again, and reached out to tilt her chin gently up to his “–I don’t know how it ends, yet.”

Then he was kissing her, and his lips were warm and persuasive, and all of her resolve...dissolved. A kiss was just a kiss...unless it was Ciaran Duncan doing the kissing. Just as she almost lost herself completely in Ciaran’s arms and the heated dazzle of his lips, reveling in the scent and taste and feel of him, she pulled away.

“We have to stop,” she said, her voice shaky. “I can’t do this, I’m engaged. And this isn’t a date.”

His expression was contrite. “You’re right, and I apologize. It’s just that you’ve bewitched me, Holly,” he said huskily. “But I promise I’ll be on my very best behavior for the rest of the day.”

And he lived up to his promise. The day passed in a whirl of shopping, walking, and laughter. Everywhere they went they were photographed – whether riding a carriage through Central Park, ducking into Prada and FAO Schwarz on Fifth Avenue, or sharing a late-afternoon slice and a pretzel from a street vendor. Ciaran good-naturedly signed his autograph on bits of paper, menus, street maps, and even inked his name on one insistent woman’s bra strap.

“The perils of being an actor,” he sighed as they returned, their feet aching, to the waiting Town Car and climbed in.

“You poor man.” Holly regarded him in bemusement. “Is it always like this? So crazy, I mean, with women throwing themselves at you and offering up their bra straps for autographs?”

“They’ve offered up more than their bra straps, believe me,” he replied. “And yes, it’s always like this. I usually wear sunglasses and a cap to avoid notice. But I threw myself onto the altar of rabid fandom for you. And your father,” he added.

“Very self-sacrificing of you, I’m sure.”

Ten minutes later, with dusk beginning to fall, the Town Car drew to a stop in front of 30 Rockefeller Center.

“Rock Center?” Holly said, surprised. “Why are we here? Isn’t this where they film a lot of television shows?”

“It is,” he confirmed. “And my new talk show will soon be one of them.”

“Your own talk show? That’s great, congratulations!” She kissed him in excitement. As she drew back, she noticed a lipstick smear on the corner of his mouth. She reached out to wipe it away with her finger. “Oops. Sorry about that.”

Ciaran caught her finger in his and raised it to his lips. “No apologies. I’ve had a wonderful time tonight, Holly,” he said, all teasing gone. “I’ll be back soon to start taping the show. I hope you’ll help me find a suitable apartment when I return.”

Holly looked at him, all too aware of his lips against her fingers and the green-brown enticement of his eyes. She was torn between the negative things Mr Darcy had said – he wasn’t to be trusted, he was no good – and her own overwhelming attraction to him. She knew he was a player, in every sense of the word; he was an actor, after all, one who pretended to feel things on-screen that he really didn’t...and he was paid very handsomely to do so.

And she was engaged.

“Of course I’ll help you find a place,” she found herself saying. “I’d love to.”

“Excellent. Now let’s go see my new dressing room. Then – as much as I hate the idea – I’ll return you to your fiancé.”

“Thank you, Ciaran,” she said. “For all of this. Today’s been...magical. Fantastic.”

He smiled. “Good. I hope the publicity helps the store.”

“How could it not? You’re world famous, after all,” Holly pointed out. “I’m just a nobody, along for the ride.” She glanced at the interior of the Town Car. “Literally.”

“Oh, bollocks. You’re smart, and funny, and beautiful, whereas I’m merely famous. Now,” he added as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, “let’s go inside, so I can show you off just a bit more.”

It was dark when Ciaran returned Holly to the Midtown Hotel. He walked with her across the lobby to the lift and pressed the button.

“I don’t want this day to end,” he admitted as she stepped inside the car.

“Me, either. It was really fun. Thanks.” Holly smiled. “I had an amazing time. “Goodnight, Ciaran,” she called out as the doors began to close.

“Goodnight, Miss James. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

With a smile and a wink, he turned away, and left.