Manolos in Manhattan (5 page)

Although she hadn’t yet met her properly, she suspected that Catherine was attracted to her fiancé. And it bothered her.

Not that she worried that Jamie would stray; no, it was just that Catherine was so gorgeous she made Holly feel like a dog’s dinner. With her long black hair and a slim but curvy build, the sous chef was a stunner.

And, of course, she could cook like a dream.

“Well, Catherine’s wrong,” she said firmly, and drew back to meet his eyes. “We were talking about the publicity thing.”

“Oh, yes. Your father told me. Tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Ciaran’s sending a car to pick me up at eleven.”

Jamie studied her, his expression unreadable. “Should I be worried?”

“Don’t be silly,” she assured him, and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I only have eyes for you.”

“Prove it, then,” he murmured, a challenge in his eyes.

And she proceeded to do just that.

Chapter Seven

At eight-thirty the next morning, a knock on the door echoed through Apartment 1010.

“Hellooo? Mr Gordon? Anyone here?”

Natalie looked up from her seat on the sofa in mild alarm. It was Sunday morning, and she and Rhys were in the living room, having just arrived at the Dunleigh with their luggage a short time earlier. Rhys was hanging her father’s portrait over the fireplace.

“Who’s that?” she hissed. “And what’s he doing in our apartment?”

Before Rhys could answer, a dark-haired young man with a pair of sunglasses thrust atop his head strode into the living room, his hands holding bright-orange carrier bags. He wore jeans, a Ramones t-shirt, and a pale-pink blazer with the sleeves rolled up.

As he saw Rhys, he came to a stop. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were here. I thought I had time to sneak in and leave this stuff before you officially moved in.”

“Quite all right,” Rhys said, and turned away from the mantel. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, I have lots of fab stuff,” he said. “I went to Zabar’s yesterday afternoon and got pesto, brie, a couple of pasta salads –
so
delish ‒ a bottle of Blanc de Blanc, and—” he broke off as he caught sight of Natalie. “Oh, sorry. You must be Mrs Gordon. I saw you last night but we haven’t been formally introduced.”

“Natalie, this is Charles Williams,” Rhys said by way of explanation, “my new personal assistant.”

She nodded and said politely, “It’s very nice to meet you, Charles.”

“Chaz, please.” He smiled in apology. “I’d offer my hand, Mrs Gordon, but they’re full at the moment. Gorgeous outfit, by the way,” he observed as he studied her yellow and black figured tunic and fitted beige skirt. “Marni, last season?”

She nodded, impressed. “You’re good. And please, call me Natalie.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Gordon – I mean, Natalie,” he corrected himself as Rhys took one of the bags from him. “The front desk sent me up – I hope that’s okay? Alastair put me on the list.”

“The list?” Rhys echoed.

He nodded. “The guest list. I’m on it, and Alastair, and Sir Richard...and you two, of course. Alastair gave me a key so I could deliver your groceries.”

“No, that’s fine.” Rhys glanced down at the bags. “Thank you for all of this, by the way. It’s unexpected, although very welcome. But you needn’t have gone to the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I knew you wouldn’t have time to go grocery shopping, so I thought I’d stock the kitchen with a few essentials. I can’t stay,” he added as he headed towards the kitchen. “I’m helping Holly choose an outfit for her big date with – wait for it – Ciaran Duncan today.”

“Holly has a date with Ciaran Duncan?” Natalie echoed, surprised. “I saw them talking last night at the party, but...” her voice trailed off. “But Holly’s
engaged
.”

“It’s not really a date, it’s a publicity thing for the store,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s a ‘film-star-and-retail-heiress-do-New-York’ thing, to be exact.”

“I see,” Natalie said, although she didn’t, really. She couldn’t imagine Jamie agreeing to such a thing...or Holly’s father either, for that matter. He hadn’t seemed very impressed with the actor.

“It was Ciaran’s idea,” he explained as she rose and followed him into the kitchen. “But Alastair was totally on board, since the store needs all the publicity it can get...”

“...so Holly’s spending the day with Ciaran to help her father, and to help the store,” Natalie finished.

“Exactly.” He set the carrier bags on the counter. “Well, folks, I’m off. Enjoy your gourmet goodies and welcome to the Dunleigh.”

And before Natalie or Rhys could do more than thank him, Chaz waved, whipped out his mobile phone, and left.

“So
these
are our options for your date with Ciaran?” Chaz asked doubtfully as he eyed the three dresses on hangers that Holly held up a half-hour later.

“Yes. And it’s not a date.” She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like them?”

He cupped his elbow in one hand and rested his chin on the other. “Sorry, no. The black wrap dress is too plain; and that purple jersey – where’d you buy it, Forever 21? As for the bubble skirt–” he grimaced “–it looks like someone threw up Christian LA Croix.”

Holly tossed them down on her bed in irritation. “Well, what do you suggest, then, Mr Mizrahi?”

“Hey, you asked for my help,” he reminded her. “I could be at home watching
The Princess Diaries
, thank you very much.”

“No need to throw a hissy. Just take a look in the closet and pick something out. I’ll need accessories, too. And hurry. I have to start getting ready soon.”

“You don’t want much, do you?” he retorted, but threw the door to the hotel closet open and began rummaging through the contents, his face set in concentration. Choosing an outfit was a very serious business.

Five minutes later, he emerged. “I’ve found it,” he announced, triumphant. “I’ve found the perfect outfit for your date with Ciaran.”

“It’s not a date,” she told him again. Holly rose from her perch on the end of the bed, anxious to see what he’d chosen. He held out a beige sheath dress overlaid with lace, nude heels, and a leopard-print clutch.

“That?” she said uncertainly. “I don’t know. It’s so...beige. It looks like something Mum would wear.”

“It’s classic,” he informed her, “but sexy, in a ladylike way. Very
Mad Men
. You don’t want to look like a hootchie, do you?”

“No...”

“Then shut up and try it on.”

Dutifully she did as he asked, thrusting her feet into the heels and smoothing the silk dress over her hips as she stood before the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. And as she studied her reflection, she had to admit that, once again, Chaz was right.

The nude heels elongated her legs; the dress was fitted and flattering, emphasizing her small waist and slim build; and the leopard clutch provided the perfect pop of contrast.

“We’ll put your hair up in a chignon,” Chaz decided. “Like Tippi Hedrin. It’ll give you that sixties chic.”

“Put my hair up? I don’t know...”

“Sit,” he commanded, and motioned to her dressing table. “I’ll do your hair before I go. All you need,” he mused as he began to brush her hair, “is one of those big, black cartwheel hats, like the one Audrey wore in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.”

“Sorry,” Holly said firmly, “I love this outfit, but I draw the line at cartwheel hats.” She looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. “You’re right...it’s absolutely, perfectly…perfect.”

An hour later, bathed and perfumed and dressed in the beige sheath, Holly was almost ready. Jamie had left, off to get his new restaurant ready to open its doors; so Chaz had agreed to stay and let Ciaran in while she got ready.

“Keep him waiting,” he informed her. “It’s never good to appear too soon. Take your time.”

“Right,” she agreed, and lifted her brow. “Leaving you to chat – alone ‒ with the object of your affection in the meantime.”

“Whatever. Go get ready.”

Ten minutes after Ciaran arrived, Holly took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. The sound of Chaz’s voice drifted down the hall from the tiny hotel sitting room.

“‒
so
pleased to meet you last night,” he gushed. “Like I said, I’ve seen all your movies, except that last one about the veterinarian. It didn’t do so well at the box office, did it?”

“No,” Ciaran said a trifle stiffly, “but it earned me a BAFTA nomination. Rather proud of that.”

“As well you should be.”

“Listen, I don’t mean to pry, but...do you and Holly live together?” the actor asked, puzzled.

Chaz let out a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh. “God, no! I just offered to stick around and let you in while she gets ready. Her fiancé’s normally here,” he added, pointedly, “but he’s working.”

Chaz glanced up as Holly appeared in the doorway. “Holly – there you are. Mr Duncan’s been waiting, and very patiently, I might add.”

Ciaran stood up, and his eyes swept over Holly from her ladylike heels to her upswept blonde hair. He blinked. “You look stunning, Miss James. And very grown-up.”

“Thank you,” Holly said. She could barely form a coherent sentence at the sight of Ciaran, so handsome in his impeccably tailored suit. “Shall we go?”

“By all means,” he agreed, and held out his arm. “First, we’re off to have lunch at The Russian Tea Room.”

“Excellent choice,” Chaz approved, “if a bit...touristy. But that’s the point, isn’t it?” he added hastily as Ciaran cast him a flinty look. “Have a blini for me. And enjoy yourselves!”

“Thank you,” Ciaran replied. “I solemnly promise to have her back before midnight, Mr Williams.”

Chaz shook a finger playfully. “See that you do.”

They emerged from the Midtown Hotel and onto the busy sidewalk five minutes later. “What’s this?” Holly asked as Ciaran drew her towards a black Lincoln Town Car waiting at the curb. A chauffer in a peaked cap and gloves slid out from behind the wheel and held the rear door open for Holly.

“Our limo,” he replied. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

“And generating the most publicity possible at the same time,” Holly couldn’t help adding. She glanced at the gleaming black vehicle and back at Ciaran, who was already attracting a knot of onlookers. “This should definitely do it.”

Without another word, she slid onto the back seat and made room for Ciaran, and they were off.

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.”