IrishAllure by Louisa Masters Page B

Dunne. I really appreciate this.”
Jillian tried not to let her pathetic gratitude sound in her voice.
    “It’s Fin, and you’re very welcome. Good luck.”

Chapter Two
     
    Jillian stood in front of Tullamore Castle and studied it
carefully. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d gotten. The place was
perfect—absolutely perfect.
    “Miss?”
    Jerking herself back to reality, she smiled at the young,
American-accented bellboy—or porter, or whatever they called them in Ireland.
He took her suitcase, and she followed him into the foyer.
    God, the place was perfect.
    After she’d spoken to Fintan Dunne, things had just fallen
into place. Lynne was a treasure, and within half an hour of their first
conversation, she’d found a castle that had just had a wedding cancelled for
the weekend they needed. They therefore had available reception rooms, a
gorgeous ballroom, and suitable accommodation for almost all the guests. The
wonderful staff had also stepped up and found places nearby for the overflow of
guests.
    Now she crossed the lobby slowly, examining her surroundings
in detail. This was clearly the older part of the castle, which she’d been told
dated from the mid-thirteenth century. The owners had been very sensitive to
the building’s origins when they turned it into a hotel, so the lobby, while
elegant and fitted with the necessary furniture, looked more like a medieval
hall than a modern hotel lobby.
    Approaching the reception desk, she smiled at the girl
standing there. “Hi. My name is Jillian Baxter. I’m—”
    “Miss Baxter, of course. If you’ll just wait here, I’ll get
Aine for you.” She hustled through a door marked Private, and Jillian waited,
pleased. Never having used the facilities at Tullamore before, she hadn’t been
sure what to expect from the staff. It boded well that the receptionists had
been expecting her.
    “Miss Baxter?” A pretty, graying redhead approached. “I’m
Aine Byrne. It’s nice to meet you.”
    “And you.” Jillian shook her hand warmly. “Please call me
Jillian.” Aine, the owner and general manager of Tullamore, was currently one
of Jillian’s favorite people.
    “We have your suite all ready.” Aine took an envelope from
the desk and led Jillian through an opening at the back of the lobby and into a
wide corridor. A low, cushioned bench sat across from a wall of three lifts.
“There’s plenty of room for you to work, and a nice comfortable lounge area.
There have been some messages from the local wedding vendors for you, and we’ve
put those on the desk. From what I understand, everything is under control, but
I imagine you’ll want to confirm that for yourself.” She pressed the call
button for the elevator and smiled. Jillian smiled back.
    “Definitely. This wedding could make or break me. I’m so
thankful to have found this place.”
    Aine snorted softly as the lift doors opened. They entered
and she pressed the button for the third floor. “The bride sounds very…interesting.
It’s not many people who have the gall to move a wedding across the Atlantic at
a moment’s notice. Her future brother-in-law isn’t exactly reticent about his
opinion of her either.”
    Jillian flicked Aine a quick glance. “You’ve spoken with
Fintan Dunne?” The elevator doors opened and they stepped out.
    “Yes, Mr. Dunne checked in yesterday. He asked to be
informed when you arrived. I believe he’s here to help.”
    Oh crap. That was the last thing she needed—a
relative hovering while she frantically got everything ready to go. She had
only five days before the wedding, and zero time to placate anyone.
    “Oh.” She followed Aine down the hall. The Irishwoman
glanced back over her shoulder and laughed.
    “Don’t worry, Jillian, I got the impression that he’s not
fussed about the wedding itself. I think he’s here to run interference between
you and his family.” She stopped in front of a door and opened the envelope
she’d taken from reception.