CHAPTER TWO

      SO, THE next night Holly meandered through the outer bar of the Fun and Games sports nightclub on the arm of her best friend’s husband. She was dressed to kill in a black silk dress: fitted, strapless and split to the thigh.

      ‘Do you have anyone in particular lined up for me tonight?’ Holly shouted in Ben’s ear to be heard over the loud, pumping music.

      ‘Actually, I stuck your photo on the wall in the men’s washroom at work along with a note saying you would be here tonight. That way they can just come to you.’

      ‘Not funny.’ Holly punched Ben inelegantly in the arm. ‘Why is the function here?’

      ‘It’s one of ours. It’s Link’s idea. We hold all of our functions in various clubs we own so we are constantly reinvesting in ourselves.’

      Holly nodded, impressed. ‘Ingenious. Pity all Lincoln Holdings events are managed internally. I could have a lot of fun with the budget you guys must have.’ She huddled closer. ‘Will the boss be here tonight?’

      ‘Link? Sorry, Holly, you can cross him off your list. He’s been running the international operations from New Orleans for the last few years.’

      ‘I bet he’s tall, dark, and handsome to boot.’ Holly pouted, bringing a smile to Ben’s face. The smile probably meant his boss was a married workaholic with three whining kids, a pot-belly and high blood pressure.

      He took her hand and led her single file through the swelling crowd, into the private function room hidden at the rear of the club. The room had been converted into a sort of theatre in the round. The high ceiling housed an elaborate lighting rig so bright it was almost blinding.

      A cheerful murmur of voices and clinking drinking glasses echoing in the lofty space had replaced the raucous club music, soundproof walls thankfully shutting out the thumping beat from the previous room.

      Holly excused herself several times as they edged past people sitting in their row. The numerous men in dinner suits sent a thrill of excitement running up and down her spine. She sat and turned to Ben, ready to ask what was behind the velvet floor-to-ceiling drapes in the centre of the room but her query froze on her lips. The curtains slowly rose into the rafters to reveal—A boxing ring!

      Ben chatted to a couple of male colleagues in the row in front. Their eyes all gleamed like little boys in a pet store as they launched into a detailed discussion of the two men who were about to belt it out before them.

      Holly tugged on Ben’s sleeve. ‘There’s a boxing ring.’

      He smiled. ‘That’s so that the boxers keep to themselves and don’t spill out into the crowd.’

      ‘But, I thought…I thought this was a business function. I thought we’d be sitting down, having dinner, and there would be refined and elegant men for you to introduce to me.’

      ‘We’re sitting. We’re eating,’ Ben said with a mouthful of mixed nuts he had picked up from a nattily dressed wandering waiter. ‘And this is Mark and Jeremy.’

      The mundane middle-aged guys from the row in front smiled politely.

      Ben’s twinkling eyes fast lost their twinkle when Holly grabbed him gracelessly by the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and through clenched teeth said, ‘But this was not what I had in mind.’

      ‘Just relax. You’ll enjoy it.’

      Holly raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips and crossed her arms, demonstrating exactly how much she was enjoying the night so far. ‘I am surprised that Lincoln Holdings would associate itself with such a primitive and politically incorrect enterprise.’

      ‘All of Lincoln Holdings’ staff from the managing directors to the custodial staff come together for these nights. It makes inter-office difficulties seem so small and petty when compared with what these guys go through to earn a living. You should know more than anyone that if a gimmick works, stick with it.’

      ‘It’s not just a gimmick, Ben, it’s encouraging people to use their fists to sort out their differences. Whose idea was this in the first place?’

      ‘Link’s, of course,’ Ben said, grinning. ‘Forever inspirational.’

      ‘Sounds like a thug to me,’ Holly muttered.

      ‘You thought he was ingenious ten minutes ago.’

      ‘Ten minutes ago I was mistaken.’

      Holly was suddenly glad that Ben’s boss would not be at the function. If he were, she would have no problems letting him know what she thought of his little soirée, high blood pressure or no high blood pressure.

      And she just knew that sitting quietly at home in her ‘magic’ briefcase—as Lydia called it—she would have a dozen more appropriate and inspirational function ideas and it frustrated her to distraction.

      The white noise of the murmuring crowd rose to a crescendo when an announcer in black tie bounded into the ring and a microphone descended from the rafters. The crowd rose to its collective feet and Holly rose with it, shuffling her way back out of their row in search of a refuge.

      Once inside the ladies’ room, she slumped down on a very large round pink velvet ottoman, which sat alone in the middle of the vast space.

      Her eyes were closed and she was plotting ways she could take revenge on Ben when the doors swung open. She opened her eyes, hoping to find solace with another woman in the same predicament as herself, but instead locked eyes with the least feminine person she had ever seen.

      In walked a man well over six feet tall, his tuxedo precisely tailored to fit his athletic frame. He was so stunning it took her breath away. Maybe this night would not be a complete waste after all.

      And then something about the furrowed brow and deep hazel eyes clicked in her memory. His neat, freshly cut hair framing his handsome, relaxed face had momentarily blinded her to the fact that she knew him.

      He was the same brute who