the Dunleigh’s co-op board. In fact,” he added with a conspiratorial wink, “he owns the building.”
Natalie blinked. “Oh. I’d no idea.”
No wonder he looked amused when I asked if he lived here, Natalie thought, embarrassed. He not only lives here – he owns the bloody building
She thanked the clerk and sat down in the lobby to wait for her taxi.
“So – tell me,” Natalie said as she and Holly followed the waiter to a table at Nico’s, “how are you and Jamie getting on? Another restaurant...you must be so proud.”
“I am. He’s worked hard for this. He never stops.” She hung her handbag over the back of a chair and sat down.
“He stopped long enough to ask you to marry him.”
Holly reached for a menu and pretended to study it. She remembered the night Jamie had proposed, at a charity ball at Mansfield Hall, under a starry sky on the terrace. She’d recently broken up with Alex Barrington, a member of Parliament and her first interview assignment for BritTEEN magazine, and Jamie had been there to put the pieces of her broken heart back together.
“The truth is,” she admitted as she looked up from the menu, “Jamie’s so busy with the restaurant that we hardly see each other. He spends more time with his sous chef than he does with me. And she’s gorgeous,” she added glumly. “I barely know Catherine and I’m jealous already.”
“Well, not to worry. Jamie would never fall for someone else. He loves you, Holly. Speaking of which – have you set a date?”
She shook her head. “We agreed to wait until the new restaurant’s established.”
“And how long will that take?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A couple of months.” She paused as the waiter arrived to take their orders.
“Well, you’re far more patient than I am,” Natalie said. “At least he put a ring on your finger. Speaking of which – let me see it.”
Obediently, Holly complied and held out her hand. A cushion-cut diamond sparkled on her ring finger.
“Ooh, it’s gorgeous. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Nat. I just...” she sighed, and Ciaran’s face flashed across her mind. “I wish we could see more of each other while we’re here, that’s all.”
“Believe me, I understand. Rhys has been constantly busy with the launch, and most nights he doesn’t get home until late. Speaking of the launch, how’s it going?”
“It’s not bad, really, except for Coco Welch.”
“The promotions manager,” Natalie said, and made a face. “I don’t like her, either.”
“Yesterday she sent me up to the attic to inventory all the junk – in my brand-new skirt – and while I was up there, I found a portrait hidden in the eaves. A painting of a 1920s flapper.”
“Ooh, how intriguing,” Nat exclaimed, and paused as the waiter brought their drinks. After he left, she leaned forward. “Give me details, please – who is she?”
“That’s just it – I don’t know. I’m trying to find out, but there’s not much to go on. Mr Darcy’s having the painting evaluated tomorrow.”
“Mr Darcy? Isn’t he Alastair’s lawyer?”
Holly nodded. “He studied Art History at Oxford, and he knows someone who might be able to tell us a bit more about it.”
“You know, when we were in the drawing room at the pre-launch the other night,” Natalie confessed, “I couldn’t get warm, despite the fire...and I felt a breeze. Like someone walking past me – but there was no one there.”
Holly stared at her. “You felt it too?”
She nodded. “Rhys said I was imagining things. Just like he said I imagined our intruder,” she said, and frowned.
“Intruder? What intruder? What happened?”
And as Natalie filled her in on the events at the Dunleigh the night of the pre-launch party, Holly’s eyes grew wide. “You saw someone in your apartment?”
“I’m quite sure I did. Oh, I admit it was dark, and I couldn’t make out details – but I saw someone, Holly. And whoever it was had a gun.”
“And Rhys didn’t believe you?”
“Not really, no. He searched the apartment, and checked to see if someone had tried to break in, but there was nothing.”
“So he thinks you imagined it.”
“Yes. And maybe I did...but–” She leaned forward. “–there really is a cat burglar on the loose in Manhattan. So it might very well have been him.”
Holly’s mobile phone buzzed from the recesses of her handbag, and she reached behind her chair to grab it. “Speaking of Jamie,” she said in apology to Natalie as she glanced at the screen, “he’s calling. Hello?”
“Crikey, Hols, where’ve you been?” he asked testily. “I’ve called three times, and every time I get your voicemail.”
“Sorry, I’ve been busy. I’m having lunch with Nat.” She paused. “Why, what’s up?”
“I wanted to say sorry I couldn’t meet you for lunch. And to let you know I’ll try to get home a bit earlier tonight. Catherine wants to go over the food orders again before we leave to be sure we haven’t forgotten anything.”
“Of course she does.” A world of sarcasm undercut her words.
“Look, Hols – I know we’ve not seen each other much, and I’m sorry, but it’s a lot of work getting the restaurant ready to open. I’m all over the place at the moment. I thought you understood that.”
“I do,” she sighed, instantly regretting her criticism. “I know it’s not your fault.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t for Catherine,” he added. “She’s been a real lifesaver through all of this.”
Any vestiges of sympathy Holly felt for Jamie dried up on the spot and morphed into irritation. “Well, hurrah for her. So glad she’s there to save the day once again. Sorry, Jamie, but we have a bad connection. I have to go,” she said abruptly. “Talk to you later. Bye.” She rang off.
Their plates arrived, and she and Natalie tucked into their respective entrees. Nat made no mention of Holly’s brief but semi-heated conversation with Jamie. Of course she wouldn’t, Holly thought; she was far too polite.
She scowled as she took a roll from the basket and buttered it with savage motions. Catherine spent far more time with her fiancé than she did, and it wasn’t
