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“Nothing you need to be involved with. But I prefer it if the only ones who know I’m here are you, your boss, and my clansman. ”

She glanced over at the man standing by the door. “Him?”

“Aye.”

“Okay,” she replied slowly. “So, if you’re not going to bid in this auction, why are you here?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to be a bidder.” He drained his whiskey glass. “I said I wasn’t going to be bidding myself. ”

Her eyes widened. “You can’t mean for me to do so in your place?”

He nodded wordlessly, his expression determined.

Emma swallowed hard. “I…” she trailed off, unable to formulate her jumbled thoughts. “This isn’t…”

He tipped his glass toward her. “Either you accept the contract or you don’t.”

She carefully—regretfully—pushed the binder away. “I don’t think I can sign this after all.”

Aidan merely lifted a brow.

“You’ve put me between a rock and a hard place, Mr. MacWilliam.” She felt a keen disappointment; she really liked him, and working with him would’ve been a welcome breath of fresh air from her normal sort of client.

He gently nudged the binder back toward her.

“I realize that and I’m sorry for it. But you’re the most qualified to help me.

And I’ve taken provisions within this agreement against any ramifications to your career, plus the additional offer to pay ten thousand dollars immediately, deposited directly into your bank before the auction tomorrow night. ”

What he was offering was insanity, pure and simple, but what she said was, “This is all very strange. Price would never accept a client paying me directly.”

“If Price wants his commission, he’ll do as I say,” Aidan replied mildly.

“Mr. MacWilliam, a very large percentage of Mr. Price’s clientele plan to attend this auction. Some are flying in at the last moment, others are using proxy bidders. If I act as your proxy bidder, as you stipulate in this contract, and I outbid another Price client on an item—”

“All items.”

She choked. “What?”

He topped off her wineglass. “All items, Ms. Perkins. We’re obtaining the whole lot.”

“That’s millions of dollars!” she burst out.

“I estimate about three, maybe up to five, million,” he replied without inflection.

Five million dollars? Emma couldn’t imagine having that much money to spend on dusty artifacts, no matter how amazing the history.

“Mr. MacWilliam, I can help you find a proxy bidder—”

“There isn’t any time, Ms. Perkins,” he interrupted. “It’s you or me. And I am paying your firm a hefty sum to ensure that it’s not me.”

He folded his arms and leveled a stare at her.

“All right, Ms. Perkins. You want honesty?”

She nodded cautiously.

“I believe you hold a rather expensive degree in medieval studies.”

“Medieval thought,” she corrected as the color rose to her cheeks. He must know about her articles—but how?

He dismissed the difference with a wave of his hand. “Your knowledge of the time period is exactly why I wanted you as my publicity manager. Your thesis was on medieval Ireland from the early 1400s through the 1600s. I read it, and enjoyed it.”

“You read it?” she replied incredulously. The piece—which was over a hundred pages of meticulous research, images, historical documents, and interviews on the actual interclan politics of the time versus what was passed through storytelling—was her pride and joy.

And she was certain that not even her master’s committee read it all the way through .

“I’m not an antiquities dealer,” she clarified quickly. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and an idea struck. “I can, however, put you in touch with a very well-known one here in the States.”

He smiled as if amused. “Only you, Ms. Perkins. Your knowledge of medieval artifacts is impressive, and I need someone to bid for me tomorrow night. This will allow me to see how you work under pressure, if I’m to hire you on an extended contract.”

She tamped down the urge to scream. “I don’t have what you say you need.

You must realize that I am successful in PR because my clients know I’m invisible.

That means I don’t make the news, and I don’t make a spectacle of myself.

Publicly bidding for a client of Mr. Price’s would probably get me fired. I can’t afford that.”

Aidan sat back and braced his hands on the table. Large, calloused hands that seemed more suited to a hard day’s labor than signing business documents. His voice rumbled in his chest. “I would make it more than worth your while.”

Emma’s mouth went dry. How did he make that statement sound so alluring and sexy?

She couldn’t allow his charm to work its magic on her, though; she wasn’t going to go all doe-eyed and simpering, which was no doubt what the man was used to.

“I’ve worked very hard to get to where I am in this company, and I can’t throw it away for five months’ rent. ”

Aidan shrugged. “I’m not asking you to, but if you must think on it, please do. You have until the auction, after all. But might I draw your attention to the amendment?” He gestured to the binder again. “Read it carefully, lass.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned to where they’d left off.

She read aloud: “In addition to the fees set forth by Price Public Relations, Ltd, the Client ( Aidan MacWilliam ) does hereby agree to the additional sum of $38,453.67, paid directly to the Undersigned ( Emmaline Perkins ) with the sole purpose of relieving debt incurred through student loans for the knowledge sought by the Client. The Client also agrees to pay one (1) year of royalties to Price Public Relations, Ltd, for any clientele lost from the direct result of this agreement, providing the Undersigned is fully employed for at least one (1) year following any incurred clientele losses.”

Emma couldn’t believe what she was reading. How did he get a copy of her thesis? Furthermore, how the hell did he know her loan balance?

And why wasn’t she more freaked out by it?

She tried to calm her racing thoughts, but one pushed in front of all the others: Instinctively, she trusted him.

And look where instincts got you , she reminded herself sternly. A death threat from a man you thought you knew better than you knew yourself.

She met his eyes, but couldn’t form any words.

He flashed his secret smile at her again. “I make it my business to know everything about someone as important as you, Ms. Perkins. If you decide not to sign, I have a backup plan. But I really, really hope I don’t have to use it. You’re my Plan A, and I like you a lot more than my Plan B.”

“I can’t help you.” She had never before told her clients no.

And she knew Price would be livid when she told him that she failed to secure MacWilliam as a client.

She took a deep breath, then looked him straight in the eyes.

“If you want honesty…I’m not willing to give up my career for a fat payout. ”

“Admirable,” he murmured. “I can respect that.”

Emma resisted the urge to reply, and instead took a long drink of wine.

“However.”

Damn. There was always a “however” from clients.

“I give you permission to speak to Price about this. If he signs off on it, will you do it?”

She blinked .

He waited another heartbeat, then leaned forward. “Ms. Perkins.”

“You want me to tell him what, exactly?” She waved at the binder.

“That contract is for me to join you at a social event, presumably to help you navigate the American auction world. While it’s not exactly common practice, it isn’t anything that requires this level of secrecy.

” She paused. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me. ”

He stroked his chin, silently watching her with keen eyes.

She sat back with a whoosh . “This is all a test, isn’t it? You want to see how far I’ll go to give you what you want before you tell me the real reason why you selected me to be your rep.”

She saw the smile form on his face before he schooled his features. “As you refuse to sign any contract with me, I’m afraid I can’t answer that. You have until the auction, Ms. Perkins. My offer stands until then. But before you join me, you’ll have to sign the papers.”

“I’m sorry this can’t work out.” She placed her napkin on the table.

“I rarely make mistakes, and I know you wouldn’t be a mistake.

I suggest you sleep on it. Let’s meet tomorrow at your office in the morning to discuss it further.

” He handed her a business card, and she tucked it into her purse.

He continued, “For now, let’s enjoy our dinner.

I’d love to hear what you think of it. I’ve had Paddy prepare the house special. Have you ever had colcannon?”

She stared at him a moment, unsure if he was serious. After all that discussion, and all he did to get to her, he was willing to let her walk? She frowned. She shouldn’t worry about him; Mr. MacWilliam seemed more than capable. And he mentioned a Plan B. Surely he had things in hand.

Glancing down at the plate in front of her, her inner history geek barked out a laugh. Colcannon was a staple of the late medieval Irish diet—boiled potatoes and cabbage mashed together and flavored with shallots and cream or butter.

“Technically, this is not medieval dish,” she replied. “Why would you create a 1400s medieval atmosphere, then name the restaurant after a dish that doesn’t even show up until the late 1600s?”

He laughed. “That knowledge. That is why I sought you. Don’t devalue it,” he demanded when she started shaking her head. “It’s why only you will do. I’ll settle for only the best. Very few people in the world would notice a mere two hundred years’ difference, Ms. Perkins.”

She rubbed her temples. She had never met anyone as forthright, yet enigmatic, as Aidan MacWilliam. She could usually read people very well, but the things that came out of his mouth were beyond unpredictable.

“I let Paddy name the restaurant, and he loves that dish,” he explained. “The medieval decor is a nod to my past.”

“You can trace your family to medieval Ireland?” she exclaimed, amazed and slightly jealous all at once.

His expression darkened. “You could say that, aye.”

His voice was so deep, and she couldn’t break eye contact even if she wanted to. She was in way over her head with him, and damn the man if he didn’t know it, too.

Suddenly, his phone rang, and he held it up apologetically. “I have to take this. Excuse me?”

“Of course,” she replied automatically, relieved at the interruption. Whatever was going on, she had to get a grip on herself.

Determination etched on his face, Aidan ignored the call and walked through the kitchen, onto the street behind the restaurant.

After a quick sweep of the area, he pulled his phone from his jacket and stared at it, weighing his decision.

He hit “call” on the number he’d just missed, and the person on the other end picked up immediately.

“So?”

Aidan barked out a laugh. “You’re a right bastard, you know that?”

He could hear Colin’s smile as he replied, “I do. So is she as perfect for the job as I expected her to be?”

“Even more so. She is properly annoyed at me right now,” Aidan responded. “But she’s brilliant, has strong ethics, and would do the job admirably.”

“What do you have to do to close the deal?” Colin asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Aidan admitted. “I’m still working that out. By the way, who is the client that referred you to Ms. Perkins? Maybe name-dropping would aid here.”

Colin cleared his throat. “Client?”

Aidan went on alert at Colin’s tone. “Aye, cousin. You told me the lass was referred to you by one of Celtic Connections’ clients.”

“You must have misheard me,” Colin said matter-of-factly.

“And I wonder what you said that I so misheard?” Aidan leaned against the brick wall, giving a nod to a man who blew by him on a bicycle, the scent of Chinese takeout following him.

“I said I found her in the Celtic Connections database.”

Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “No, you didn’t.”

Colin’s voice became downright jovial. “Oh, I’m sure I did. She popped up in my database while I was searching for potential matches for a client, and I thought she’d be a perfect match. You know. For the client.”

Aidan snorted in disbelief. “I know your game, Colin. You think to match me? You really are a right bastard.”

“I would never match without consent,” Colin declared. He ruined it with a chuckle. “But if she’s as amazing as you think she is, get her to sign on with you, then introduce us and I’ll do the rest as far as getting her on my team. You’ll be on your own when it comes to wooing her.”

“No one will be wooing anyone,” Aidan countered.

“Hey, that’s your decision to make. But get her to sign on.

I really do need a PR manager, and none of the folks I’ve interviewed have given me a good reason to hire them.

I’m in over my head with all these press releases, trying to get the London office set up.

” Colin paused. “I need someone who I can trust. Do you think she could be that person?”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “Damn you.”

Sounding relieved, Colin laughed. “Then finish the job, lad, and get the woman to my office already.”

Aidan tucked the phone back into his pocket and gritted his teeth.

He should’ve known that Colin wouldn’t have sent him to New York City just to scope out a potential hire. But then again, he’d been so disconnected from everything for a while—his world had seemed rather gray and boring lately, and he’d welcomed the opportunity for a change of scene.

And heading back into the restaurant, Aidan privately acknowledged that Ms. Emmaline Perkins was the brightest spot he’d seen in longer than he cared to admit.

He cursed Colin’s matchmaking tendencies again. He would pay for this—but right now, Aidan had bigger issues to work out.

Such as not allowing the lovely, feisty woman currently waiting for him at their table to walk out of his life quite yet.