Page 1 of Once upon a Summer Night

Chapter 1

Compressing his lips into a thin line, Colin O’Rourke just barely resisted the urge to put his fist through his wall. The only things holding him back were that he rather liked his walls, being as he had put them up himself, and that he’d probably knock something of importance off his desk.

A glance around his messy office confirmed that should something fall, it was unlikely to ever be seen again.

“Col, I know you’re upset. But we can spin this.” Emmaline MacWilliam, his publicist and relatively new cousin-in-law, kept her voice even and her countenance placid. She sat directly opposite him, holding the offending newspaper out to him. “I’ve spoken with Miss Emsworth—”

“What a stodgy name,” he muttered, taking it from her. He flipped it open to the marked page, his movements tightly controlled.

Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’ve spoken with her directly, and she’s agreed to retract her words…if we can prove we do what we say we do.”

“We’ve proven it over many years and many matches,” Colin snapped, searching for the article in question.

In Colin’s opinion, Miss Winifred Emsworth could take her “article” and shove it into the deepest, darkest recesses of herself. His company, Celtic Connections, was the most successful matchmaking company of its kind in the United States, and it catered to elite clientele. Clients were usually wealthy people who needed some help in finding a forever partner, and Celtic Connections had a highly respected pool of potential matches. With the company’s recent expansion into the UK and Ireland, some of the stringent requirements for potential matches, such as required income and education levels, were lessened slightly. But easing the restrictions, it seemed, only incited the wrath of a woman who wrote for one of the trashiest magazines in Britain. Unfortunately, she was insanely popular, and new member sign-ups weren’t where Colin needed them to be to stay afloat overseas.

They weren’tanything, actually.

He gritted his teeth. A single article from one out-of-touch, uninformed, pseudo-journalist had the power to crush his business before he signed its first overseas client. He would never understand the Brits’ love of their paparazzi.

“This seems like blackmail,” Colin finally replied. He rested his elbows on his desk, carelessly knocking over a stack of papers. He watched them flutter to the floor. “What did she propose we do to ‘prove’ ourselves? Which,” he added darkly, “we don’t need to do. Our reputation speaks for itself.”

Emma absently twirled a lock of her blonde hair and cleared her throat. “Well…she claims that it’s a class thing. Celtic Connections caters to the upper classes, and therefore is something to be suspicious about.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, we’re not going after nobility!” Colin exploded.

“No,” Emma agreed, rescuing another stack of papers in danger of toppling over, “but wedidkeep the income levelrequirement higher than the average salary in Great Britain. And that’s her sticking point.”

He clasped his hands tightly in an effort to regain control of his emotions. “Spit it all out, Emma. What, exactly, does she want from us in order to retract her words?”

Emma neatened the small stack of stuff in front of her. “You really need a file cabinet, Colin.”

“Emmaline…” he warned.

“Don’t blame my wife for your lack of organization.” Aidan MacWilliam entered the room, a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. “Else you’ll wear this instead of drink it.” He handed one to Colin.

Emma gratefully accepted the other one. “Thanks, love. I’ve needed something to hide my smile behind for the last half hour. This Miss Emsworth has gotten under Colin’s skin.”

“Tease me all you want, but this isn’t a joking matter.” Colin looked for a place to put his own cup, but there wasn’t any surface available. “You know, I do have a housekeeper. Why won’t she do her job?”

“You don’t provide her a hazard suit, so she can’t enter here,” Aidan snorted. Papers of various sizes and colors littered the desk and surrounding floor. A large, outdated monitor sat in the middle of the desk, sticky notes covering the edges, and the keyboard was partially covered with envelopes and notecards from various clients. “You need to go digital, my friend.”

Colin raised a brow. “Considering your upbringing, I would think you’d appreciate the tradition of paper.”

“Okay, boys, enough,” Emma cut in. She created a space amongst the papers and put her cup down, then pulled her tablet out of her purse. “Back to Miss Emsworth.”

Colin rolled his eyes and took a surly sip of his coffee.

“Miss Emsworth wants us to find a match for her niece. A match that ends with a marriage.”

Colin barked out a laugh. “Oh, right. Because that doesn’t havesetupwritten all over it.”

“You’re not supposed to be interrupting,” Aidan chided.

Emma swiped something on her tablet. “There’s a bit more to this, Col. Her niece isn’t exactly a willing participant yet.”

Setup.Colin physically bit his lip to stop himself from speaking. Or roaring.

He wasn’t sure which, yet.

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