Page 15 of Once upon a Summer Night

“I’m a columnist, Mr. O’Rourke. If you didn’t bare your teeth at me today, I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

“I didn’t realize matching your niece was your job,” Colin shot back, thoroughly done with the circles she tried to run around him. “Miss Emsworth, thank you for your time. If your niece agrees to this, I ask that she present herself to meat my London office before the news conference I’m holding this week.”

Miss Emsworth pursed her lips. “What will you do if she doesn’t appear?”

He smiled grimly. “Damage control. Because as certain as you seem to be of the Brits’ love for you, I’m equally certain that I have the best PR team in the world, and the best product to back up their words.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and Colin sat back, feeling as though he may have won at least one of these roundabout verbal battles. She looked at him fully for a moment, then a small smile curved her lips. “Oh,yes. I believe you’ll do perfectly, Mr. O’Rourke.”

“Beg your pardon?” Colin asked, cautious.

“You’re a very strapping and handsome man.”

Colin choked. “Are you always this blunt with people you’re blackmailing?”

“Blackmailing. How ridiculous and vulgar. I’m not blackmailing anyone,” Miss Emsworth replied loftily. “I’ve merely written an article that resonates with the people of the United Kingdom. And wealllook forward to the results of your first client.”

Finally, we get to the point, Colin thought with exasperation. The woman was a master at the art of mental exhaustion.

“My requirements for you, in regards to my niece, are simple. You will be the one to match her.”

Colin merely raised an eyebrow. Though he’d already determined that he would handle this assignment, he was surprised this woman was confident enough to demand that the owner personally match her niece.

“Her match will be from Ireland or the UK only.”

He sat forward suddenly, his eyes narrowed. “Is that her requirement, or yours?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It absolutely does,” he shot back. “You can give me a listof requirements, but it will be hers that I adhere to. And if I find her perfect match, and he lives outsideyourspecified area, that’s on your niece, not me.”

“Passionate about that, Mr. O’Rourke?” she replied, her expression bland. “Well, we’ll see what kind of candidates you come up with.”

He remained silent.

Her tone changed to a warning. “But do know this. I want my niece to experience love. Real love. The kind that sweeps a girl off her feet and never puts her down. However, if your match ultimately removes her from the UK or Ireland, I will do all in my power to ensure your business fails most spectacularly. Selfish of me, absolutely. But there are plenty of eligible men here. Are we clear?”

“And I thought you believed blackmail to be vulgar,” he retorted.

“One more requirement. She is not one to open up to those she does not know. So I’ll fund thirty days of time where you can both get to know each other. It will most likely have to be in London, as she is a very busy shop owner, but I expect the two of you to have contact at least once per day.”

“No.”

Miss Emsworth blinked owlishly. “I beg your pardon?”

Colin shrugged and sat back. “No. I do not accept your demand. I have a business to run, Miss Emsworth, and a life to lead. Putting both on hold because your niece isn’t easy toget to knowis non-negotiable.”

“Those are the terms, Mr. O’Rourke. And they stay between you and me, or this entire deal is off.” She opened a drawer in the side table next to her and withdrew two sets of papers. “I wrote this for publication if you succeed.” She handed it to him, and gave him a wave. “Go on, read it.”

He skimmed the article, noting her adept retraction and humble apology to the people of Britain for her error in judgment. His company was painted in a glorious light, andgave a glowing review with blank spaces for what he assumed would be examples of said success.

He handed it back to her. “Let me guess. The other article is the one you’ll publish if we are not successful?”

She wordlessly handed it to him, and he began to read. And by the end of the third paragraph, he was seeing red at the slander and outright lies.

“If you publish this, I will sue,” he threatened.

“People sue the paparazzi every day,” she remarked. “Yet somehow, the story always lives on.”

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