The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

thought, straight out.”
    “All right.” Nigel replied. “Once in a while, in my profession, you stumble across a jewel, a diamond—no, in your case we’ll use sapphire because it goes with your eyes. A rare, brilliant, undiscovered jewel. That’s what I heard at Gallagher’s last night. I’d love to put that jewel in the proper setting.”
    “I’ll leave it to you to explain what that setting might be. I have to get to the site. I’m already late.” Trevor picked up his keys from the counter where Nigel had tossed them the night before. “I’ll leave the car for you.”
    She could only stare blindly at the keys. “Thanks, but I’ll just walk back. It’ll clear my head, and I’d prefer it.”
    “Suit yourself.” But he leaned down, rested his hands on her shoulders. “I have to go.”
    “It’s not a problem. Come have lunch at the pub, since you had to make do with such a skimpy breakfast.”
    “If there’s time.” He kissed her lightly before turning to Nigel. “Come down and have a look at the site later. The walk will do your city legs good.”
    “Thanks very much.” As Trevor left, Nigel rose to top off his coffee. “Sure you won’t have a cup, Darcy?”
    “No, I’m fine, thanks.”
    He poured out, sat again, smiled. “So—”
    He stopped when Darcy held up a hand. “Please, I have a question. Would you have said what you did just now if I wasn’t sleeping with Trevor? Be honest,” she continued as his eyes flickered. “I won’t tell him your answer, you have my word on that, but the truth here is important to me.”
    “The truth, then. It would have been easier, and suited me more comfortably, to be able to tell you what I just did if you weren’t sleeping with Trevor.”
    “I’d have preferred it as well, but here we are. I hope you’ll take this as truth as well. I’m not sleeping with Trevor so he’ll offer me a big contract.”
    “Understood.” Nigel paused, considered. “Is having a personal relationship with him what’s stopping you from agreeing to a professional one?”
    “I don’t know. He wouldn’t make a habit of having a personal relationship with his artists, would he? It’s not his style.”
    “No, it’s not.” Interesting, Nigel mused. No, fascinating. Unless he missed his guess, this was a woman in love. “But I’ve never known him to be involved with anyone he hoped to sign for the label. I’d have to say all bets are off in this case.”
    No, she thought, it was a wager still. The biggest of her life. “If I signed with Celtic, what would be expected of me?”
    Nigel’s grin was all charm. “Oh, Trevor, he expects everything. And he gets it.”
    She relaxed enough to chuckle. “Give me the high points then, and the lows as well.”
    “You’ll deal with directors, producers, musicians, marketing, consultants, assistants. It’s not just your voice we want, but the package, and everyone will have ideas or demands for presenting that package. However, my impression is that you’re a smart woman, and self-aware, so you’d know the package is already as perfect as it can get.”
    “Meaning if I was toad ugly or couldn’t string two coherent sentences together you’d find ways to remake the package.”
    “Or use the flaws. You’d be amazed at what a clever publicity campaign can do with flaws. Regardless, the work you’ll do will be hard, the hours long, and not all the choices will go your way. You’ll be tired, annoyed, frustrated, baffled, stressed, and . . . are you temperamental?”
    “Me?” She deliberately fluttered her lashes. “Of course I am.”
    “Add blowups, sulks, and rages, then—and that’s just in the first recording session.”
    Darcy rested her chin on her fist. “I like you, Nigel.”
    “That’s mutual, so I’m going to tell you this—which if I didn’t like you, I’d leave out. If you and Trevor continue as you are, people will talk. Not all of them kindly. Some will snipe and scratch and mutter that the only reason you got a contract is because you’re
shagging the boss. They’ll make sure you feel that in dozens of nasty, petty ways. It won’t be easy on you.”
    “Or him.”
    “They won’t let him know, unless they’re very, very stupid. And the petty and jealous are rarely stupid. You can cry on his shoulder, of course.”
    Her head snapped up, her eyes kindled. “I don’t cry on any man’s shoulder.”
    “I bet you don’t,” he said quietly. “But if it comes down to it,