Read Manolos in Manhattan Online
Authors: Katie Oliver
How odd. Why would Daisy write these letters, pouring out her heart and soul to Bix, and never post them?
She glanced at her wristwatch. It was nearly four o’clock, time to start getting ready for dinner with Jamie. Reluctantly she put the letters back on the shelf and shut the closet door.
Daisy and Bix, and the mystery of what happened between them, would just have to wait.
At half-past five, Holly stepped out of the shower and realized that she and Jamie hadn’t decided where to meet up for dinner.
She wrapped herself in a towel and padded over to the bedside table to grab her phone and sent him a text.
“Where r we meeting 4 dinner 2nite?” she typed.
Then she turned back to rummage in the lingerie drawer – it was a messy tangle of silk and satin – and pulled out a pair of pink lace knickers and a matching bra. Her text message dinged.
“Iz & Cath want pizza. Meet us at Aldo’s? xx”
Irritation flickered on her face. “We had plans,” she texted. “Dinner, u & me. 2gether.”
Holly tossed the phone down and stepped into her knickers. So much for a romantic dinner and an evening of wine-fuelled sex, she fumed as she reached around to hook her bra. Instead, he’d be spending the evening with Catherine.
Part of her knew she was overreacting; he’d spent time with Catherine and Izzy today because she’d asked him to, after all.
But I didn’t ask him to spend the
evening
with them, too,
Holly fumed,
or to spend it with Catherine
.
Her phone dinged again; she had a new message. No doubt Jamie had told Catherine and her niece that he was sorry, but he had plans on tonight...with Holly. With a smug expression, she retrieved her mobile.
“Sorry, babe,” his text read, “don’t want 2 let Izzy down. I know u understand. Luv xx”
Holly flung the mobile on the bed. She couldn’t believe it. Jamie couldn’t let Catherine’s niece down, oh no, but he had no qualms about letting
her
down?
Well, Holly decided defiantly, she wasn’t about to sit home alone and wait for him to turn up, reeking of pizza and wine and...and Catherine’s perfume.
She sank onto the bed and picked up her phone once again. It took only a moment to scroll down and find the number.
For some reason, she hadn’t deleted it after he’d programmed it in.
Without thinking about why that was or reconsidering her actions, Holly pressed ‘call’ and waited as the phone rang at the other end.
After three rings, there was a click. “Hello,” Ciaran said guardedly.
“It’s me. Holly.”
“Holly? I’m surprised to hear from you. Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I’m just at a loose end and I wondered if you’d like to grab dinner somewhere.”
There was a longish pause. “Dinner? But...what about Jamie? As you constantly remind me, you’re
engaged
, Holly.”
“Just because I’m engaged,” she retorted, “doesn’t mean I can’t have dinner with a friend. I’m not his property.”
“No, of course you’re not. But I don’t think Jamie would like the two of us having dinner together.”
“I don’t care if he likes it or not. He’s out with his gorgeous sous chef Catherine and her niece right now, having pizza and chianti.”
“It’s not a date, is it?”
“No, of course not. I asked him to spend the afternoon with Catherine’s niece, Izzy,” she explained. “It’s a long story...but it was nice of him to do it, and I was okay with it. Until they decided to go out for pizza afterwards.”
“And you’re obviously
not
okay with that. And so you want to get back at him by using me.”
“No,” she protested. “That’s not it at all!”
“It’s a pizza place, Holly. It’s probably a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with dusty chianti bottles stuck with melted candles on every table, beer on tap, and ‘That’s Amore’ playing nonstop on a bad sound system.”
Holly was silent. Ciaran’s description sounded pretty damned romantic to her.
“I’m sure you’re overreacting,” he added.
“Maybe,” she agreed, “but I’d still like to grab a bite to eat. I’m starving. I skipped lunch because I knew – I
thought
,” she corrected herself, “that Jamie and I were having a romantic dinner alone together.”
“I’m a bit hungry myself,” he admitted. “I’ve been going over my new contract and I never actually did eat lunch.”
“You shouldn’t skip meals.”
“Says the girl who just admitted
she
skipped lunch,” he reminded her. “How does room service in my hotel room sound? And before you object, and accuse me of ulterior motives, I’m not up to going out,” he added. “I’m too knackered to deal with being mobbed by fans.”
Holly hesitated. “All right. But
no
funny stuff. I mean it, Ciaran.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he assured her, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “At any rate, I’m too tired to ravish anyone at the moment.” He gave her his room number and added, “I’m registered under William Thacker.”
“The Hugh Grant character from
Notting Hill
,” she said immediately. The film, with Julia Roberts, was one of her favorites.
“Clever girl. I’ll see you soon.”
When she arrived at Ciaran’s suite, Holly caught her breath as she preceded him inside. Lamplight cast a soft, romantic glow on the elegant furnishings, and a table set for two waited in front of the fireplace.
“It’s lovely,” she said as she wandered over to the crackling fire and held her hands out to its warmth.
“Does madam approve?” he inquired as he removed a bottle of Perrier-Jouët from the ice bucket and opened it with an expert pop of the cork.
“Madam does,” she said, and smiled as he handed her a flute of bubbly. She took a tentative sip and raised her brow. “But how did you arrange all this…” She waved a hand at the linen-draped table, the china, the bucket of champagne. “So quickly?”
“It’s one of the many perks of being an international film star.”
“Of course it is. Just remember,” she warned him, “behave, or I’m out of here.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “I hear you, loud and clear. No monkey business,” he promised solemnly. “No kissing,” he murmured as he lifted her hand to his lips, “no touching, absolutely no physical contact of any sort…”
“Ciaran,” Holly warned, and pulled her hand away. She glared at him. “I mean it.”
“Sorry.” He indicated the table. “Shall we dine?”
After sharing a delicious dinner of roasted Cornish game hens with spring vegetables, white wine, and a slice of bitter-chocolate gateau, the bellboy came in and removed the table, and the two of them settled themselves on the sofa in front of the fire to talk about the upcoming film première...
...and somehow, Holly found herself succumbing to a single, head-spinning kiss from Ciaran. She gathered what was left of her wine-fuzzed wits and pushed him away.
“What time is it?” she asked as she stood and went to stare out at the city lights.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “Nearly ten.”
“Oh no.” She turned back and eyed him in dismay. “I have to call Jamie.” She hadn’t let him know she’d be out. “He’ll be worried.” Guiltily, she dug in her handbag for her mobile phone.
It wasn’t there.
“What’s wrong?” Ciaran asked as he stood up.
“My mobile. I didn’t bring it.” Holly drew her brows together. “I must’ve left it on the bed. I need to text Jamie and let him know I’m on my way back.”
He indicated the hotel phone. “You can call him from here, if you like.”
She hesitated. “He won’t know the number, he probably won’t pick up.”
“Leave a message.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be back in twenty minutes. He’s probably not there yet, anyway.” At least, she hoped he wasn’t.
“All right.” He made a quick call of his own, then rang off and turned back to her. “I’ve had the car sent round. If you’re ready, I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” she said quickly, imagining Jamie’s reaction if he saw her getting out of the Town Car with Ciaran Duncan. “I can hail a taxi.”
“I won’t hear of it,” he said firmly, and grabbed up his keys. “Let’s get you home.”
As Ciaran and Holly crossed the Midtown Hotel lobby to wait for the lift, she smiled over at him, feeling self-conscious. “Thanks for dinner. It was much better than lukewarm
moo goo gai pan
from Madame Wu’s.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Goodnight, Holly.”
“Goodnight.”
The lift arrived and Ciaran waited as she stepped inside.
“Hang on! Hold that lift, mate.”
Holly blinked.
Jamie appeared, slightly out of breath from running across the lobby, a mixed bouquet of cellophane-wrapped flowers and a box of chocolates in hand.
“Holly?” he said, glancing from her to Ciaran with one quick, damning glance.
“Jamie!”
Ciaran, wisely, said nothing.
“We just got back,” Holly blurted. “Just now.”
“Yes. I can see that.”
“We had dinner,” she stammered, “that’s all. Since you were with Catherine and Izzy,” she added.
“Well, I hope you both enjoyed it,” Jamie said, his words flat. He shoved the bouquet and the box of chocolates at Holly. “These are for you.” He turned to go.
“Jamie, wait,” Holly called out, panicked. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking the stairs. Don’t want to crash your party.” He glared at Ciaran and strode off across the lobby.
“Jamie!” Holly cried.
But he didn’t look back.
When Holly returned to their room after giving Ciaran a hurried goodbye, Jamie was sitting on the edge of the sofa with the television remote in his hands. He surfed through the channels with a grim expression on his face.
She dumped everything on a chair and turned to him. “Jamie, look, please don’t be angry. We were both at a loose end and we decided to grab dinner together, that’s all.”
He said nothing.
“It was my idea,” she went on, “not Ciaran’s. I was starving, and you couldn’t meet me for dinner, so—”
“So you decided to call that film star knob and set up something better,” he finished, and turned the TV off with an angry jab and tossed the remote aside.
“That’s not true. I was hungry,” Holly said in her defense, “and I didn’t want to eat takeaway Chinese by myself. So I called Ciaran and asked if he was free to grab a bite. That’s all.”
“Leaving aside for the moment that you must have his number programmed into your phone,” Jamie pointed out tightly, “what really pisses me off is that you
asked
me to spend the day with Izzy and Catherine, Holly. And I did, for you. I gave up my only day off to throw a ball around in Central Park with Catherine’s niece.”
“Yes, I asked you to spend the day with Izzy,” she flung back. “But I didn’t think you’d spend the evening, too. And how convenient that Catherine was part of the deal.”
“Oh, for...” He shoved a hand through his hair. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re jealous of Catherine, so you’re trying to make me jealous with Ciaran.”
“No.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “And I’m not jealous.”
“You are! You’re jealous because we work together, and because we spend time together. And you’re jealous because Catherine’s attractive.”
Holly stared at him. “Oh, so you think she’s attractive? You’ve noticed that, have you? And let’s not forget that she’s organized, capable, clever, and an
amazing
sous chef, while we’re at it—”
“Yes. Yes, I do think she’s attractive. She’s all of those things. And you can’t stand it.”
The fact that he was right – about all of it – was beside the point.
He thought Catherine was attractive.
Holly was swamped by a welter of emotions. Fury, jealousy, disbelief, hurt – mostly hurt – swirled inside her in an ugly mix.
“You’d rather be with
her
,” she accused him, as tears leaked out and spilled down her face. “You think I’m stupid, and irresponsible, and a l-loser, because
BritTEEN
folded and I’m working for my father. You’re
ashamed
of me.”
He lifted his face to her in surprise. “What? No. Of course I’m not ashamed of you. That’s ridiculous. It’s not your fault the magazine went under.”
“But I don’t have a proper job anymore. I don’t have a career, like Catherine. I’m almost twenty-four years old and I’m still asking my f-father to b-borrow money,” she choked out.
Jamie stood up and took her into his arms. “You’ve suffered a reversal, Holly, that’s all. You’ll bounce back.” He stroked her hair. “You always do.”
She hitched in a couple of shaky breaths and met his eyes. “I feel like a c-complete f-failure.”
“Bollocks. You got your job back after Sasha had you sacked – and when she left, Valery gave you Sasha’s job. That’s down to you, because she knew you were good –
are
good,” he corrected himself, “at what you do.”
“I can’t cook,” she sniffled.
“Catherine can’t write articles.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “And she isn’t you.”
Holly glanced up at him through tear-matted lashes. “I might as well tell you now,” she sighed, “before you find out from someone else, and we have another row...I’ve told Ciaran I’ll go with him tomorrow to look at two more apartments. He can’t decide between the Dunleigh or the Dakota.”
Jamie’s jaw tightened. “I don’t get it. He can choose between dozens of film projects worth millions of pounds, but he can’t choose an apartment on his own?”
“I’ll cancel,” she assured him. “I don’t really want to go, anyway. He’s just...lost, when it comes to stuff like that.”
“No.” He let out a short breath. “No, go. I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind telling him no. And I don’t want to upset you.”
He studied her. “Are you happy, Hols? With us, I mean?”
Her heart gave a lurch. “Yes! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re spending more and more time with Ciaran Duncan. Should I be worried? Is something going on between you two?”
“No. He’s just a friend, that’s all.” She attempted a smile. “A friend who happens to be internationally famous.”