Manolos in Manhattan by Katie Oliver Read Free Book Online

one where I meet the store owner’s beautiful daughter, but I can’t get past her initial bad impression of me?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t seen that one.”
    “It’s a good one, actually, one of my best. Except–” he leaned forward once again, and reached out to tilt her chin gently up to his “–I don’t know how it ends, yet.”
    Then he was kissing her, and his lips were warm and persuasive, and all of her resolve...dissolved. A kiss was just a kiss...unless it was Ciaran Duncan doing the kissing. Just as she almost lost herself completely in Ciaran’s arms and the heated dazzle of his lips, reveling in the scent and taste and feel of him, she pulled away.
    “We have to stop,” she said, her voice shaky. “I can’t do this, I’m engaged. And this isn’t a date.”
    His expression was contrite. “You’re right, and I apologize. It’s just that you’ve bewitched me, Holly,” he said huskily. “But I promise I’ll be on my very best behavior for the rest of the day.”
    And he lived up to his promise. The day passed in a whirl of shopping, walking, and laughter. Everywhere they went they were photographed – whether riding a carriage through Central Park, ducking into Prada and FAO Schwarz on Fifth Avenue, or sharing a late-afternoon slice and a pretzel from a street vendor. Ciaran good-naturedly signed his autograph on bits of paper, menus, street maps, and even inked his name on one insistent woman’s bra strap.
    “The perils of being an actor,” he sighed as they returned, their feet aching, to the waiting Town Car and climbed in.
    “You poor man.” Holly regarded him in bemusement. “Is it always like this? So crazy, I mean, with women throwing themselves at you and offering up their bra straps for autographs?”
    “They’ve offered up more than their bra straps, believe me,” he replied. “And yes, it’s always like this. I usually wear sunglasses and a cap to avoid notice. But I threw myself onto the altar of rabid fandom for you. And your father,” he added.
    “Very self-sacrificing of you, I’m sure.”
    Ten minutes later, with dusk beginning to fall, the Town Car drew to a stop in front of 30 Rockefeller Center.
    “Rock Center?” Holly said, surprised. “Why are we here? Isn’t this where they film a lot of television shows?”
    “It is,” he confirmed. “And my new talk show will soon be one of them.”
    “Your own talk show? That’s great, congratulations!” She kissed him in excitement. As she drew back, she noticed a lipstick smear on the corner of his mouth. She reached out to wipe it away with her finger. “Oops. Sorry about that.”
    Ciaran caught her finger in his and raised it to his lips. “No apologies. I’ve had a wonderful time tonight, Holly,” he said, all teasing gone. “I’ll be back soon to start taping the show. I hope you’ll help me find a suitable apartment when I return.”
    Holly looked at him, all too aware of his lips against her fingers and the green-brown enticement of his eyes. She was torn between the negative things Mr Darcy had said – he wasn’t to be trusted, he was no good – and her own overwhelming attraction to him. She knew he was a player, in every sense of the word; he was an
actor
, after all, one who pretended to feel things on-screen that he really didn’t...and he was paid very handsomely to do so.
    And she was
engaged
.
    “Of course I’ll help you find a place,” she found herself saying. “I’d love to.”
    “Excellent. Now let’s go see my new dressing room. Then – as much as I hate the idea – I’ll return you to your fiancé.”
    “Thank you, Ciaran,” she said. “For all of this. Today’s been...magical. Fantastic.”
    He smiled. “Good. I hope the publicity helps the store.”
    “How could it not? You’re world famous, after all,” Holly pointed out. “I’m just a nobody, along for the ride.” She glanced at the interior of the Town Car. “Literally.”
    “Oh, bollocks.