Manolos In Manhattan. Katie Oliver

be right there.” Holly turned away and moved to follow him.

      “Wait.” Ciaran caught up with her. “What time shall I pick you up tomorrow?”

      “Eleven, I suppose. I’m catatonic before noon.” She paused. “Do you know where I live?”

      “Yes, I got your address from Ms. Welch earlier. She’s much more accommodating than you.” His eyes twinkled.

      Twinkled!

      “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he added with a grimace, “I really do need the loo.”

      She smiled. “Right. You know where it is. Goodbye.”

      “Goodbye, Miss James. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at eleven.”

      “Not a minute sooner,” she warned.

      “No sooner, I promise. I look forward to it.” He winked one of those sexy green-brown eyes at her and made his way back downstairs.

      And so it was settled. Holly would spend tomorrow with Ciaran Duncan, internationally famous film actor, British heartthrob, and ex-boyfriend of Sienna, Keira, Olivia, and Jennifer...

      ...and a man with more hands than one of those multi-armed Hindu statues.

      As she drifted back downstairs, tugging absently at the upwardly creeping hem of her dress, Holly alternated between elation and dismay. What had she just got herself into? Ciaran Duncan was out of her league. She frowned. Jamie wouldn’t want her spending a minute with the handsome film star, much less an entire day.

      And how would she tell Chaz that she’d snared a date...with his dream man?

      He’d never speak to her again.

      “...perhaps you should set your sights on Alastair’s daughter. You could do worse, you know. She stands to inherit twenty-five percent of Dashwood and James one day.”

      Holly came to an abrupt stop halfway down the stairs. Thankfully, they couldn’t see her up here in the shadows, but she could see their legs in the entrance hall below. Coco Welch, the promotions manager her father had relocated to New York from the London flagship store, was talking to that self-important solicitor, Mr Darcy.

      “No thank you.” Hugh Darcy spoke quietly but firmly. “I’ve no interest in getting married, at any rate. I’m here to assist Mr James, and to work...not to romance his daughter.”

      “Just as well…she’s engaged already, to a chef,” Coco remarked. Her voice warmed. “Although I must say, Jamie Gordon is ‒ pardon the pun ‒ quite dishy.” She added, “Still, you could do far worse than marrying an heiress like Holly. You can’t deny that she’d make an excellent match.”

      “I doubt that. I’ve encountered puddles with more depth than that girl.”

      Holly’s mouth sagged open. Was he saying she was shallow? How dare he?

      “She’s young,” Coco agreed, “and a bit superficial. But she is pretty,” she added grudgingly, “if you like tall, coltish girls with blonde hair and no sense of style, that is.”

      “Unfortunately, I don’t. I prefer women with style. And I prefer brunettes.”

      Humiliation, followed closely by anger, swept over Holly. So Hugh Darcy thought she was (1) shallow (2) unstylish and (3) unattractive? Who on earth did he think he was? Had he looked in a mirror lately? Oh, he was handsome enough, in a dark-and-broody, Heathcliff sort of way; but let’s face it ‒ he had all the personality of a law book.

      She waited on the stairs until they left, then made her way quietly down the last few steps. As she hurried towards the baize door that led to the kitchen, blinking back tears of anger and wounded pride, she collided with Hugh Darcy, who’d just come back into the entrance hall to fetch his coat.

      He reached out a hand to steady her, and the touch of his skin on her bare arm and the immovable wall of his chest against hers sent an unexpected frisson down Holly’s spine. He really was attractive, she realized belatedly. If only he wasn’t such a snobby, arrogant, opinionated knob...

      “I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “That was careless of me. Are you all right, Miss James?”

      “I’m fine.” She drew away and added coolly, “I should watch where I’m going.”

      They stared at each other, and it seemed that in just thirty seconds, they’d exhausted all avenues of conversation.

      He cleared his throat. “I meant to say...you look a bit upset. I hope you survived your encounter with Mr Duncan earlier. I trust he did nothing...untoward.”

      “Untoward?” Crikey, he talked like he was straight out of Downton Abbey. “No, of course he didn’t. Ciaran was a perfect gentleman,” she lied.

      “Good. I must say I’m surprised. But then, you’re not his usual sort of woman, after all.”

      His words – and his condescension – sent a renewed flicker of anger through her.

      “And what – or who – is his ‘usual sort of woman,’ Mr Darcy?”

      He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I only meant that you’re a bit young for him, that’s all.”

      “Really? Well,” Holly said, tilting her head back to meet his gaze, with a defiant gleam in her eye, “he doesn’t think so. In fact, he’s asked me to spend the day with him tomorrow – as publicity for the store. And I’ve said yes.”

      “I see.”

      Again they stared at one another, and again there seemed to be nothing more to say.

      He looked as if he might venture another comment, but thought the better of it. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss James,” he said tightly.

      “Thank you. I will.”

      She moved to walk around him, to find Jamie and tell him about her plans with Ciaran, and was just about to push through the baize door to the kitchen when he spoke again.

      “It’s not a good idea, you know. He’s not worth your time. He’s no good.”

      Holly whirled around. “Excuse me? And how would you know that?”

      He lifted one shoulder. “It’s common knowledge. He’s not known for sticking around...or keeping promises. He’s not a marrying sort of man.”

      “Who says I want to get married?” Holly said, and let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m already engaged, thank you very much. It’s just a publicity thing, Mr Darcy, not a – a lifetime commitment. At any rate,” she couldn’t help adding, “I’m just a silly, shallow girl with no style and no more depth than a puddle. Isn’t that right?”

      He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and dismay. “You heard me talking to Ms. Welch.”

      “Yes, I did. But you needn’t worry. I’m not interested in you in the least, so you can rest easy. Besides, I have my day with Ciaran tomorrow to look forward to. Unlike you, he knows how to have fun, and flirt, and make a girl feel special.” She tilted her chin up. “You should try it sometime. Having fun, I mean.”

      His dark eyes met hers, and in their depths she thought she glimpsed, very briefly, pain.

      As quickly as it came, it was gone.

      “Perhaps I should,” he agreed stiffly, and turned away to get his coat. He shrugged his arms into the sleeves – it was an excellent quality coat, Holly noted irrelevantly – and brushed past her with a curt nod, vanishing through the front doors, and out into the night.

       Chapter Four

      “Oh, thank you, Alastair,” Natalie said as her father-in-law returned to