Page 23 of Once upon a Summer Night
She shrugged. “It’s not failure if you didn’t start it. And not all failure is bad, Mr. O’Rourke.”
“I think we’re past the formalities, Ellie. And the word ‘fail’ isn’t in my vocabulary. I’ve yet to leave a client unmatched…and now that you’re a client, you’ll be happy too, just like the rest of them.” He practically spat the last words.
“You make it sound so appealing,” she deadpanned.
“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting…”
“Me?” she supplied.
He nodded. “I also wasn’t expecting to give any lessons. I haven’t done those in years.”
“I. Don’t. Need. Lessons,” she ground out.
He glanced at the still-unsigned contract in front of her. “I’ll be honest with you. Your aunt’s article did a lot of damage to us here. Matching you would go a long way towards undoing that damage. But it’s not Celtic Connections that is at stake, Ellie. This business does just fine stateside.”
“Then what’s at stake?”
“Happiness.”
“I am happy,” she insisted.
Colin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the smooth table. He steepled his fingers and rested his lip on the tips for a moment, regarding her with a look she couldn’t decipher, before using one hand to pull a newspaper out from one of the manila folders spread before them.
The British Tea Times.Her aunt’s paper.
Finally, he spoke. “You might be. But I wasn’t talking about you.”
Her aunt’s picture smiled back at her, and Ellie was effectively chastened. She took a deep breath and signed the contract in front of her.
“Excellent. If you don’t want any lessons, we can make your first match tomorrow night. I have just the person in mind.”
As Ellie staredin abject horror at the stunningly beautiful man in front of her, she made the very sensible decision to be done with men.
“Eleanor, don’t look at me like that. I can see the back of your teeth, and it’s not your best look.” Bruce Hereford, heirapparent to the Lyttelton viscountcy, sighed in frustration. “Listen, all I’m asking is that you drop a stone or so before our next date. I’m not paying for that dessert,” he added.
She risked a silent glance down at the chocolate sformato (with whipped amaretto cream) in front of her, then raised her eyes back to her date for the evening. He was sipping his low-calorie cabernet (Ellie was shocked such a thing existed—it seemed sowrong), and she wondered how this man made it through Colin’s “stringent” interview process.
The silence stretched.
“Who said there will be another date?” Ellie asked, finally finding her voice.
He smiled, a slow, seductive lifting of his lips, fully practiced. She narrowed her eyes.
“Oh, Eleanor…” He raised a corner of his mouth a bit more.
It was the same smile she’d seen in the file Colin gave her at the office, when he had insisted Bruce checked all the boxes on her list. “Plus,” Colin had added, “he’s smart, good looking, and single. There’s a couple other things, but I’ll let you discover them on your own.”
Ellie narrowed her gaze even further. One of those things was that Bruce was in line for a title. And he wasn’t above mentioning it six or seven times.
“Eleanor, Eleanor, Eleanor,” he said on a sigh.
Ellie briefly wondered if he repeated her name to help him remember it.
Bruce sighedagain. “Your weight troubles aside, you are easily the most beautiful woman I’ve been out with since Gina What’s-Her-Name.” He pretended to ponder her last name for a moment before shrugging. “You know, the duchess’s second cousin. Only once removed.”
She tried not to roll her eyes. Truly, she did. “Perhaps we should discuss what made you interested in becoming a part of the Celtic Connections database?”
“Of course. My mother’s encouraging me to branch out some. She has an idea that new blood will reinvigorate our lineage. So, we’re looking at wealthy commoners with strong potential for breeding the next heirs to the viscountcy.”
