Katie Oliver - Manolos In Manhattan

“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” Holly said, wishing to change the subject to anything but Ciaran, “but I wondered – are you seeing anyone? Back in London, I mean?”

His expression – already forbidding – tightened. “I fail to see how my personal life is any of your concern, Miss James.”

“Oh, never mind.” Holly turned away. “I don’t really care, anyway.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I wondered if there’s a real person under that perfectly tailored suit.” She glared at him. “I guess I have my answer.”

His tense expression relaxed. “No. I haven’t the time, apart from anything else. Your father keeps me very busy with legal matters.”

“Well then, why don’t you ask Coco out, Mr Darcy? She’s right here at the store, and she’s single. I’m sure she’d love to go out with you.”

A look of distaste crossed his face. “I can assure you, I’d rather eat rocks than go out with Ms. Welch.”

She stared at him. “Why? Coco’s quite attractive. She’s stylish. And brunette ,” she couldn’t help adding.

“Yes, I suppose she’s attractive,” he agreed, ignoring the dig, “but there’s the small matter of a personality.” He paused. “She doesn’t have one.”

Holly blinked. Then she laughed. “Good point, Mr Darcy. At least we can agree on that.”

He glanced at her, and for the first time, his lips relaxed into a slight smile. “Shall we go back downstairs, Miss James? I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling rather hungry. I wouldn’t mind a pastrami on rye, or perhaps a Reuben, from that deli on the corner. Join me?”

“That,” Holly said with satisfaction, “sounds absolutely perfect, Mr Darcy.”

They went to Shatz’s deli and placed their orders at the counter. When their sandwiches were ready, they found a table by the window and sat down. As Hugh bit into his pastrami on rye with extra mustard, and she took a bite of her ham and Swiss on wheat, hold the mayo, Holly basked in the sun streaming in through the window, her sandwich...even Darcy’s somewhat formal company.

He was amusing; he was clever; and when he relaxed a bit, he was almost...fun.

“How long have you worked for my father?” Holly asked as she reached for a crisp.

“Eight years, nearly nine. I went to work for him straight out of Oxford. I never intended to stay so long,” he admitted as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, “but I like the work, and I admire Alastair. He’s a good man.”

“Is he?” When Hugh looked at her oddly, Holly hastened to add, “Of course he is. I just mean, I don’t know him in the same way you do.”

“Alastair is one of the few men I know who actually has principles,” Hugh said, “and strong convictions. And he stands by them. But he’s compassionate, as well. He and Sir Richard do a great deal of charitable work on behalf of the store.”

“Really?” Holly chewed her ham sandwich thoughtfully. “I didn’t know that.”

“It seems there’s a lot you don’t know, Miss James.” He raised his brow and took a large bite of his pastrami on rye.

“Is that right?” she retorted. “Well, I do know one thing you don’t,” she added.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

She grinned and reached out to touch her finger to a bit of mustard on the corner of his mouth. “That extra mustard you asked for? It’s not only on your sandwich.”

He sat still and allowed her to dab it away. “Can’t take me anywhere, I’m afraid.”

Holly met his eyes. Her smile faded as she realized her finger was practically in his mouth. It was a nice mouth, too...firm, and chiseled, like a Greek statue’s. She blinked and drew her finger hastily away, and blushed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“On the contrary,” he said, “I’m glad you did.” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t like to go about conducting Dashwood and James’s legal affairs with a mustard smear on my mouth.”

As they finished their lunch and gathered up their waxed paper and crisp bags, Holly turned to him. “You needn’t worry, you know.”

“Worry?” He looked at her in surprise. “About what?”

“About Ciaran Duncan,” she replied. “You said he could be charming, and persuasive. And he can. He is. But you’re not bad yourself, when you make half an effort.” And with an insouciant smile, Holly picked up her tray and made her way to the door, leaving Mr Darcy to follow after her.

Chapter Thirteen

“So how was it?” Chaz demanded on the phone late Monday afternoon. “I want all the details. Where’d you and Ciaran go? What did you eat? Did he try anything? Ooh, please tell me he did.” He paused. “No, on second thought, don’t. I don’t want to know. Did he like your outfit?”

Holly, sprawled across her bed, said, “If you’d let me get a word in, I’ll tell you all about it.” And she did, except for the part where Ciaran kissed her in the limo and she kissed him back.

Some things were probably best kept to herself.

“So he took you to The Russian Tea Room, a carriage ride through Central Park, shopping on Fifth Avenue, and you had a drink at the Café Carlyle,” Chaz repeated, unimpressed. “Romantic, yes; but it’s a textbook ‘New York day out.’”

“Oh, quit being so snarky. That was the idea, if you recall. Not everyone thinks a burger at Rudy’s Bar and Grill followed by body shots at a drag club is the ideal evening out,” she retorted.

“It sounds pretty perfect to me.” He paused. “Speaking of ideal evenings out – I have news, too.”

“Really? Is it news of a romantic nature?” Holly asked.

“It could be,” he said mysteriously. “Guess who asked me out to dinner?”

“I don’t know, and I hate guessing games. Just tell me.”

“Karl von Karle, that’s who,” he trilled.

She stared at her phone. “You mean the same Karl von Karle who designs shoes and carries the tiny little dog everywhere he goes, like a furry accessory?”

“Maximilian,” Chaz told her, and nodded. “I went to your desk to see if you were free for lunch – you were nowhere to be found, by the way – and Karl was talking to Alastair, and he introduced us, and one thing led to another, and...well, he asked me out.”

“Well, um, congratulations. Wow.”

“You don’t sound very happy for me,” Chaz accused her.

“Of course I am.” Holly hesitated. “It’s just – well, he’s famous, Chaz. I don’t want to see you get hurt. And he’s a lot older than you. Besides, he’s been with that Belgian fashion designer forever—”

“They broke up. Jean-Paul was too possessive. And so what if he’s famous? You’re dating a famous guy.”

“We’re not dating. We’re friends.” She paused. “I’m happy for you, Chaz, truly.” She glanced down at her watch. “But I have to go.”

“Oh? Where?” he demanded. “I thought Ciaran was flying back to London today. Has he asked you out again? And where’s Jamie?”

“He has, he’s flying back on Sunday. Jamie’s working.” As usual , she thought. “Ciaran asked me to come with him and look at apartments.”

Chaz let out a soft whistle. “Wow...he’s a fast mover. He’s known you exactly one day and he already wants to look at apartments together?”

“It’s not like that,” she said, annoyed. “He starts filming soon, and he needs a place to live. He wants my input.”

“More like he wants to put it into you,” Chaz muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. What are you doing tomorrow? Isn’t Tuesday your day off?”

“No, I’m working full time until the launch ends. But I don’t mind – I’m hoping to learn more about the flapper.”