IrishAllure by Louisa Masters Page A

crossed off. After some extensive online research, those had
been deemed either too small or too isolated to cater to so many people.
    “Okay,” Jillian said, eyeing the list. “Here’s what we do.
You start calling the castles. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll have some
availability. If not, ask for the names and contact details of the bride and
groom booked for that day. If none of the castles can help, we call the happy
couples and start offering them money.”
    “Got it.” Kate sounded less than confident. “Thank God
Ireland is ahead of us, time wise, or we’d lose part of the day sitting on our
hands.”
    “Yeah. In the meantime, I’m going to call the florist, the
photographer, the videographer, the caterer, the baker—everyone, basically, and
see what it’ll take to get this done.”
    “Don’t forget the travel agent,” Kate reminded her. Jillian
groaned, and the phone rang. Both women stared at it warily. “We don’t really
have to answer it,” Kate suggested tentatively. “It’s still outside business
hours.”
    “Knowing our luck, it’ll be Marianna wanting to have her
wedding on the moon.” Jillian picked up the phone. “Jillian Baxter Events, this
is Jillian.”
    “Jillian.” A smooth voice with a marked Irish lilt came down
the line. “Michael Dunne here. How are you?”
    Jillian blinked. She’d met Michael Dunne, Marianna’s fiancé,
once, and that was it. “Ah, hello, Michael. I’m fine, thanks, and you?” Kate
raised a brow at her, and Jillian grabbed a notepad and scrawled Michael
Dunne on it, and then watched Kate’s surprise.
    “I’m very well. Forgive me for calling outside of hours, but
I thought you may have started early today.” His tone didn’t change, but the
reference to Marianna’s demands was clear. “I thought you might need someone on
the ground, so to speak, so I spoke with my brother. He’s offered his assistant
to help you until you can get over to Ireland yourself.”
    Jillian closed her eyes for a moment. Bless you, Michael
Dunne. “That’s very generous of him, Michael. Normally I’d decline, but
we’re working to a very tight schedule, so I’m going to accept gratefully.”
    “Excellent. I’ll give you Fintan’s number and you can give
him a ring.” Give him a ring? What the hell would I… “Oh, call him, yes.
That would be wonderful.” She took down Fintan Dunne’s phone number and thanked
Michael again before hanging up.
    “Well?” Kate leaned forward. “What did he want?”
    “He’s an angel, and Marianna doesn’t deserve him.” Jillian
looked at the number on the pad in front of her. “His brother’s assistant in
Ireland is going to help us out.” She punched in the number while Kate cheered
and slumped back in her chair.
    “Fin Dunne.” The voice was very similar to Michael’s except
this time shivers ran down Jillian’s spine. It was deep and husky with that
gorgeous Irish accent. “Hello?” A voice that was beginning to sound impatient.
    “Mr. Dunne.” Jillian pulled herself together. “I’m Jillian
Baxter, your brother’s wedding planner. He gave me your number…” she trailed
off, feeling ridiculously self-conscious.
    “Ah, you’re the one who has to deal with the bitch.”
Clearly, Fintan Dunne did not hold his future sister-in-law in high regard, but
what exactly was the appropriate response to a statement like that? “Uh, I
don’t—”
    “Never mind, I shouldn’t have said that. You’ll be wanting
some help with this wedding thing, then.”
    “Normally, I would never ask,” she hastened to assure him,
“but the wedding is three weeks away and I need to find a castle.”
    “A castle?” The incredulous tone told her that this was news
to him. “God almighty, the woman’s deranged. Okay then, let me give you my
assistant’s number. She’s expecting your call.” He rattled off a number. “Her
name’s Lynne, and she’ll help with whatever you need.”
    “Thank you so much, Mr.