Manolos in Manhattan (35 page)

“I did.” She pushed back her chair, ignoring Chaz’s upraised brow, and threaded her way past the tables and out the door. “Thank you, by the way,” she murmured as she emerged onto the sidewalk. “The flowers were incredible. And the bracelet...” she paused and added firmly, “It’s lovely, but I can’t possibly keep it.”

“Why on earth not?” he asked, puzzled. “Did you not like it? I can get another style, if you prefer—”

“No, of course I liked it! I
loved
it. But it’s far too expensive, Ciaran. It wouldn’t be proper of me to accept such an extravagant gift.”

“I promised you dinner at Le Cirque, and I didn’t come through. I owe you much more than a trinket and a vase full of flowers.”

“A bracelet from Tiffany is hardly a ‘trinket,’ Ciaran!” she admonished him. “And I know those flowers cost you a small fortune. It’s okay, really.”

“No, it isn’t.” His words were firm. “That’s why I’m calling, actually. I’m sorry for the short notice, but I’d very much like to take you out to dinner tonight. I need to do a bit more groveling.” He added softly, “And I need to see you again. I really miss you, Holly.”

Holly hesitated. “I miss you too, Ciaran. But I don’t know...”

“Please, say you’ll go. I’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to orchestrate a special evening. I’ve been on the phone all morning making the arrangements.”

“Oh?” she said, and found she was intrigued despite herself. “What kind of arrangements?”

“That, I can’t say. You’ll have to trust me.” He paused and said quietly, “You
do
trust me, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Holly admitted. “I
want
to. I know you’ve been in L.A., and I know you’ve been busy; but I still don’t understand why you didn’t call, or text me, at least once.”

He sighed. “Everything happened so bloody fast. I was headed for the airport twenty minutes after I dropped you off. There were wardrobe fittings, script read-throughs, meetings with Mike and the producer, interviews – God, so many interviews! – that by the time I got back to my hotel room every night, I barely had the energy to shower and fall into bed.”

Holly was silent.

“I’m truly sorry,” he finished, his words sincere. “I never meant to hurt you, Holly, or give you the impression that I didn’t care. I do care, very much.”

“Oh, Ciaran,” she sighed, “I care about you, too. Of course I’ll go out with you tonight. Should I dress up?”

“To the nines,” he replied. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Well?” Chaz asked as she returned to their table and resumed her seat. “Is he back in your good graces, princess?”

“Yes,” Holly said, “he is. And that’s all I have to say on the subject, if you don’t mind.”

He shrugged. “Okay, message received loud and clear. Now hurry up and finish that pastrami. We’ve got packing to do.”

When Ciaran arrived to pick Holly up that evening, Chaz tactfully remained in his room with the door shut. If Ciaran noticed her roommate’s absence, he gave no sign.

“You look gorgeous, as always,” he approved as Holly twirled in front of him in her spangly silver dress. “But they’ve left the back out. Did they run out of fabric?”

“I guess that’s why it was on sale.” She retrieved her clutch from the hall table and slid her hand through the crook of his arm.

When they were settled inside the limo, Ciaran reached into his pocket and withdrew a red silk scarf. “I want you to put this on, if you don’t object. Our destination tonight is a surprise. You can take it off when we get there.”

Holly stared at him, surprised. “Ooh, how very ‘Fifty Shades’ of you, Ciaran,” she said, and giggled. “Except, I think you’re supposed to use your tie, aren’t you?”

He smiled roguishly. “I’m saving that for later.” He met her eyes as his smile faded and added, “Do you trust me, Holly?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I do.”

“Good. Now hold still and lean forward.”

Obediently, her breath quickening, Holly did as he asked. The silk scarf slid into place over her eyes, and she waited as he tied it securely behind her head.

“There. Now sit back, relax, and‒” he took her hand and brought it to his lips “‒enjoy the ride.”

Chapter Sixty-One

“We’re here,” Ciaran announced as the car glided to a stop twenty minutes later.

Holly leaned forward, her fingers clutching the edge of the seat. “That didn’t take long. Where are we? Can I take off the scarf now?”

“Not just yet. Here, let me help you out.”

She took his hand and slid out of the car after him, her heart skipping. The air smelled...briny, and she heard the sound of water, slapping against something. Pilings?

“We’re on a pier, aren’t we?” she guessed.

Ciaran’s hand rested lightly on her back. “Yes, Sherlock, we are. Now,” he said as he reached around her and untied the scarf with a flourish “have a look for yourself. I hope you approve.”

Holly took in her surroundings. A yacht was tied to the pier. And what a yacht it was. As her eyes roamed over the varnished teak decks and the white trim and the sleek, stylish lines of the boat, Holly caught her breath. “Oh, Ciaran...it’s beautiful! And ginormous! Is it yours?”

“No,” he replied, “but I chartered her for the evening. She’s sixty-two feet long, accommodates six, and travels at a top speed of thirty knots an hour. We’ll remain at the dock until after dinner; then we’ll be cruising New York harbor.”

Holly clasped her hands together and spun around to face him, her eyes shining. “This is fantastic! I can’t believe you arranged this for me. It’s almost like an episode of
The Bachelorette
.”

He winced. “Don’t say that. The couples on that show never stay together.”

“No, they don’t, do they?”

He eyed the choppy water with misgivings. “The water looks a bit rough tonight. I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“You haven’t? I went on my girlfriend’s destination wedding cruise to Cozumel last year. It’s fun. It’s like being on a floating party ship.”

“Well, if you say so,” he said doubtfully as he linked his arm through hers. “Come along, Miss James. Dinner awaits.”

“I want to know about
you
,” Holly told Ciaran later, her expression curious as she picked up a crab-stuffed cherry tomato from the appetizer tray. “Where did you grow up? Where’d you go to school? Oxford, or Cambridge?”

“Oxford. I studied drama there. Among other things.” He poured her a small glass of wine. “Not too much alcohol for you – we know what happened last time.”

She smiled. “Right. So tell me ‒ what ‘other things’ did you study? Breaking Hearts 101? How to be a Heartthrob? Speaking with a Posh British Accent, Part I?”

“Certainly not,” he replied, feigning affront. “Those just come naturally. And I majored in Economics, if you can believe it.”

“Hugh went to Oxford, too.”

“Ah, yes. Darcy. The well-dressed, oh-so-proper, legally-minded-stick-in-the-mud,” Ciaran said, an edge to his voice.

She glanced at him quizzically. “Did the two of you know each other?”

“Not well. We studied drama together. He’s a good actor,” he admitted grudgingly. “Good skill for a lawyer to have, I suppose. And it’s served him well in other ways.”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated. “I don’t like to speak of ill of anyone, of course, but Hugh...he was involved with my younger sister, Jane, while the two of us were at Oxford. It didn’t end well.”

Holly paused, glass halfway to her lips. “What happened?”

“Jane got pregnant,” Ciaran said evenly, “and there was no question that Darcy was the father. He was furious. He made it clear a baby didn’t fit into his career plans. He insisted she...get rid of it. Then he broke up with her. Jane was devastated.”

Holly was stunned. “But that’s awful! Your poor sister. I can hardly believe that Hugh would behave so despicably.”

Yet she almost
could
believe it. Darcy, with his brooding manner and dark good looks, would be catnip to a young woman. Unfortunately, while he was unquestionably handsome, he could also be cold and imperious and single-minded.

“Darcy springs from old money,” Ciaran went on. “He grew up in Yorkshire, in a house that rivals Highclere for grandiosity and pomp.”

“Highclere? Isn’t that the castle in
Downton Abbey
?” Holly’s eyes grew round. “Do you mean to say that Hugh’s family’s home is as big as
that
?”

“Perhaps I exaggerate,” Ciaran amended. “But not by much. The Darcy family is very wealthy, and titled. Hugh comes into an earldom when his old man pops his clogs.”

“I had no idea.” Holly chewed her Chateaubriand thoughtfully. “He seems so unassuming.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Ciaran remarked as he cut into his Dover sole. “It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch.”

After dinner, they adjourned to the saloon and settled themselves on the blue velvet sofa. A few moments later, the engines purred to life, and the yacht left the slip to begin its cruise of New York harbor. Ciaran slid his arm around Holly’s shoulders and drew her close.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Holly?”

“I am.”

“Good. You look absolutely ravishing, by the way.”

“Thanks. You don’t look half bad yourself.”

And it was true. Ciaran wore a dark-navy suit and a maroon silk necktie, and he looked good enough to… Holly blushed at the direction of her thoughts ‒ well, to...ravish.

The scenery that drifted by the saloon windows was breathtaking. As they passed the Statue of Liberty, Holly rested her head on Ciaran’s shoulder. “This is amazing,” she said. “I never want to leave this yacht.”

“And I never want to leave you.” Ciaran cupped her chin in his hand and gently lifted her lips to his. His mouth was warm and his kiss was languorous and thorough.

For several head-spinning moments, Holly was aware of nothing but the sensations he aroused in her with his lips and mouth and tongue. “Oh, Ciaran,” she sighed as she drew away, “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I think – no, I’m certain – that I’m falling for you.”

Ciaran’s green-brown eyes searched hers. “Good. Because I want to ask you a question, darling...a very important question.”

She looked at him, breathless. “You do? What is it?”

Was this it? Was Ciaran actually going to ask her to
‒
oh my God?
‒
to marry him?

“I...” he began, and paused as the vessel hit a patch of particularly rough water. It shuddered ever so slightly, then smoothed back out. But the action left Ciaran looking faintly bilious. “I need to know...

Holly frowned. “Ciaran, are you all right? You look sort of...green, all of a sudden.”

“Fine,” he assured her, “I’m fine.” A light sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

“You don’t look fine,” she said doubtfully. His skin looked clammy and pale. “What did you want to ask me?”

“I need to know…” he began, then turned an even greener shade of green. “I need to know where the loo is,” he gasped as he surged to his feet. “I think I’m going to be sick!”

Holly helped him to the head – that’s what they called the bathroom on ships, wasn’t it? – just in time. She winced in sympathy as she heard the sound of retching coming from behind the closed door.

“Are you all right, Ciaran?” she asked anxiously through the door. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You can get me off this bloody boat!” he rasped, then retched some more. “Or barring that, get me some Dramamine.”

“Oh? Are you seasick? But we’re not even at sea. I thought perhaps the Dover sole didn’t agree with you…”

He retched again. “Oh, God, I want to die,” he moaned.

“Don’t worry,” Holly reassured him. “I have some anti-nausea pills in my purse. I saved them from the Cozumel cruise.” She didn’t add that she’d worn the same dress on the wedding cruise, or used the same clutch. Lucky thing she had, too. “I’ll just get you some water and come right back—”

“No, don’t come in here!” he said quickly. “I don’t want you to see me like this. Just – just slide the pills under the door, please.”

Holly left to get her clutch and returned to slide the Dramamine under the bathroom door. “Here you go. I’ll tell the captain to turn us around,” she offered.

“Yes, please do,” he croaked. “Tell him to get me off this ghastly ship straightaway, or I’ll sue!”

Chaz looked up from a rerun of
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
when Holly returned to the apartment two hours later. “What are you doing home so early?” he demanded, and glanced at his watch. “It’s not even ten-thirty yet!”

She threw her clutch aside and shrugged off her wrap. “Well, things were going great. Ciaran chartered a private yacht. We had dinner at the dock – amazing, by the way ‒ then we cruised through the harbor. It was fantastic. And Ciaran was just about to ask me ‘a very important question,’” Holly added morosely.

“No,” Chaz gasped. “You mean he was gonna ask you the ‘M’ question? So what happened?”

“What happened? He got seasick halfway past the Statue of Liberty, that’s what happened.”

His eyebrow rose skyward. “Seasick? But you were only in the harbor, for crying out loud.”

“Tell me about it.” Holly flopped down next to him on sofa. “He’d never been on a boat before. And I’m guessing that after tonight, he never will be again.”

Chaz began to laugh. “So Ciaran’s big seduction was once again ruined...and this time, by nausea. I know, I know, it’s not funny – but it is! I mean,
you
can’t handle alcohol, and pass out after one drink;
he
can’t handle boats and spends the evening puking in the head. Oh, girl, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear the gods were conspiring against you two.”

Chapter Sixty-Two

“The flyers for the store launch just came back from the printer’s,” Coco announced after lunch on Monday. She dumped a box in the middle of Holly’s desk. “Here you go. Proof them. Then you can start handing them out.”

Holly looked up from her spreadsheet entry – only 5,652 more entries to go ‒ in dismay. “Start handing them out – where, exactly?”

“Oh, you know,” Coco said over her shoulder as she strode away, “on the street, in the shops, in Starbucks. Pop a few in the local store windows. It’s Marketing 101, Holly,” she added witheringly, “not rocket science.”