Katie Oliver - Manolos In Manhattan

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 the drawing room and draped a pashmina around her bare shoulders. “These evening gowns don’t do much to keep a girl warm.”

“That’s what you have me for, darling.” Her husband Rhys rested a proprietary hand at the small of her back and leaned forward to brush his lips against her cheek.

“And I’m very glad of it,” she said, and squeezed his arm.

“Congratulations on your pregnancy,” Alastair’s wife Cherie offered. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you since you found out. How far along are you now?”

“Four months and a bit.” Natalie laid a hand atop the noticeable bulge of her stomach.

“How very exciting. I’m thrilled for you and Rhys, I can’t tell you. We must throw you an extravagant baby shower, and soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me‒” she touched Natalie’s arm “‒I see Mr Duncan. I need to speak to him before he leaves.”

“Of course.” Natalie eyed the film star, standing across the room deep in conversation with one of the store’s investors. “He’s charming, isn’t he? Alastair introduced us.”

“Charming, yes.” Cherie’s smile remained fixed in place as she turned to go. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Good to see you again, Rhys.”

And she sailed off to speak to Ciaran Duncan.

Natalie shivered and drew the pashmina closer around her shoulders. “Doesn’t anyone else feel the chill in this room?”

“It’s perfectly comfortable in here.” Rhys glanced at the fire burning in the ornate fireplace. He took a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray and handed it to his wife. “You must admit, you’ve got very little coverage in that evening gown.” His gazed drifted down to her not inconsiderable pregnancy décolletage, and he smiled. “And I must admit,” he added in her ear, “I like it.”

She blushed. “Rhys, do stop. Oh, look – it’s my father’s portrait,” Natalie exclaimed. She went to stand before a painting hanging over the fireplace. “It used to hang in Grandfather’s office. It’s a William Tennant, you know.”

“A Tennant? No, I didn’t know. Interesting.” He came up and stood beside her. “The movers hung it in our apartment – I’m glad we can finally move in tomorrow, and leave that blasted hotel suite – but I had it brought here for the pre-launch. It lends a certain panache, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” she agreed doubtfully. “Was Grandfather tired of looking at it?”

“No. He’s redecorating his office and thought you might like to have it. He asked your mother first,” he added dryly, “but she declined.”

Natalie studied the three-quarter-length portrait. Her father wore a stylish suit and tie and lounged back in an armchair, his expression at once smug and amused.

“He was a handsome devil,” Rhys observed. “Knew it, too, judging from his expression.”

“Oh, yes, he did. He was a wonderful father but a crap husband. He cheated on Mum, and more than once. I don’t think he knew how to be faithful.” She frowned. “That painting must be worth a fortune now.”

“I’m sure it is. Since Tennant’s death, the prices on his works have skyrocketed. Shall I have it valued?”

“Yes, perhaps,” Natalie said vaguely, her interest already waning. “One of these days. Will you leave it here?”

“No, it’s far too valuable. I’ll have it returned to the apartment first thing tomorrow.” He frowned. “Now that I know it’s a Tennant, I don’t like to leave it unattended overnight.”

She turned her eyes up to his. “I have an idea. Why don’t we leave a bit early and take it with us? We could drop it off at the apartment on our way back to the hotel. What do you think?”

“I think,” Rhys agreed as he took her arm and drew her towards the door, “that’s an excellent idea.”

After the party, Holly accompanied Chaz to his third-floor walkup in Brooklyn. She sat next to him on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, watching “The Voice” on TiVo. Before she’d left the party, Jamie told her that he’d be late getting home and to have fun with Chaz, and he’d see her later.

If , Holly brooded, she was still awake by the time he returned after clearing up after the pre-launch party.

She set the bowl aside with a sigh. It wasn’t Jamie who troubled her right now. Guilt gnawed at her, and had done since she’d accepted Ciaran’s invitation to spend the day with him.

“Chaz,” she said now, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh? What’s that?” His eyes were riveted on Christina Aguilera’s dress as he munched on popcorn. “Never mind, I know what it is – you’re in love with me, so much so that you’re willing to settle for a sham marriage to a gay man.”

“No. Although that’s not a bad idea,” she mused. “At least it’d get Mum off my back. I told her no one gets married before thirty anymore. I don’t know why she’s always pushing me about the wedding, anyway.”

“Christina should so stick to the vintage look,” Chaz murmured, and thrust another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “The Rita Hayworth thing really works for her.”

Holly frowned. “Chaz, are you even listening to me? I’m trying to talk to you here.”