The Wedding Wish. Ally Blake
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charisma, confidence and composure. Any other girl would find it near impossible to stand firm against that killer combination of attributes.
But Holly was not just any other girl. Holly had protection. Holly had a foolproof theory and Holly had Ben to keep just this sort of guy beneath her radar.
So where was Ben now she really needed him? Hmm. No Ben. She and her theory would have to fend for themselves. And her foremost plan was to make the brute leave the room before he recognised her.
She shot to her feet, holding her clutch purse in front of her chest as a shield and said, ‘Excuse me, this is the ladies’ room.’
The man stopped short at her words.
‘Actually it’s not,’ he said, the hint of an accent evident once more in his deep, rich voice. He pointed to doors on the other side of the room that Holly had not even noticed. ‘That’s the way to the bathrooms. This is a communal lounge.’
‘Oh.’ She sat back down.
All is fine. He will continue through to the men’s room. Then I can make a run for it.
But he did not leave.
After several uncomfortable moments, she glanced up to find him leaning casually against the far wall, blocking the way to the outer door, watching her.
His amused gaze scanned her dark hair piled high in a mass of controlled curls, past her face, which burned under his intent look, down her exposed neck and shoulders, making her wish she had a wrap to cover them.
As his regard skimmed lower she followed its direction and noticed that the length of her crossed legs was fully exposed through the split in her skirt. Sheathed in shimmering stockings, they glittered from toe to thigh, and the light scrape she had received from their scuffle on the footpath showed red through the filmy fabric. She uncrossed her legs, quickly swishing the soft cloth over them, hiding the wound.
The gesture was not lost on him and a fleeting, and utterly knee-melting, smile washed across his mouth, for a brief moment revealing overlapping front teeth and those unforgettable dimples.
Strength, Holly. Strength.
Her only glimmer of hope was that there had not been one hint of recognition in those laughing hazel eyes.
It was her. It had to be. She was the woman with the briefcase and the temper.
She was dressed so differently and not yelling at him—Jacob ought not to have recognised her. But her gleaming dark hair, compelling blue eyes and natural elegance had meandered unbidden in and out of his mind so many times over the last day he had begun to think she had been no more than a jet-lag-induced delusion.
But she was real. And what a kick to walk through the door in search of a moment’s peace and quiet only to find her, arranged before him like a delectable gift in such dazzling wrapping.
Jacob went to introduce himself. After all, they had met. Somewhat. And more to the point she could very well prove to be a delightful diversion during his hiatus here. Then he stopped himself.
She had recognised him too; it was splashed across her face, but she did not seem at all happy about it.
Sure, they had clashed rather than met, but that just made her all the more memorable. Yet instead of laughing it off or accusing him anew, she fussed and fidgeted and endeavoured to fade into the furniture. And despite her best efforts, that very bashfulness made her stand out like a luminous gem on her velvet cushion.
So maybe now was not the time to introduce himself. Maybe now was the time to enjoy watching her fuss and fidget some more.
‘I know your face, but I can’t seem to place you,’ he said, staring at her as though sifting through his memory.
Help!
‘Do you work for the company?’ he asked.
Phew.
‘No, thank heavens,’ she said.
‘You have something against Lincoln Holdings?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m not a big fan of beer and boxing. So I guess that makes me not a big fan of Lincoln Holdings.’
He made no response, and seemed perfectly content in the long silence. On the contrary, Holly’s right leg jiggled and her ears buzzed with every beat of her thudding heart.
‘Are you planning on staying in here all night?’ he finally asked.
‘I hadn’t really thought that far. I came with someone so I need the lift home.’ She kept her eyes averted and her face turned as far away as was polite.
‘I could organise a cab for you, if you wish.’
‘No, thanks.’ Now off you go.
‘The least I can do is tell your companion you are in here,’ the man said. ‘I’m sure he would not want you out of his sight for too long.’ And then he smiled again.
Holly felt like a whole family of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. It was unfair to have a debilitating smile like that in your arsenal. If he smiled at her like that one more time she would be reduced to a pile of quivering mush upon the fuzzy pink ottoman. It was maddening but she was drawn to him despite herself. So if he wasn’t going to leave then she would have to.
‘Maybe I should take a cab. Make Ben worry. He deserves it.’
‘Ben?’
‘I’m here with Ben Jeffries. One of the VPs.’
The man’s attitude cooled so suddenly, it surprised Holly, then she remembered why she had embarked on her husband hunt in the first place. Her theory about the men she attracted. At parties.
He was no enigma, standing there seeming so cool and elegant. He had been wearing his party personality, he had been acting the part, just as they all did. He was good-looking enough to send a girl’s stomach into a whole series of flips with one brief smile, and she had almost fallen for it.
The clang of a bell sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a loud cheer. Holly winced as she imagined the fighters coming together in a violent clash.
Her companion’s attention focussed on her for one fleeting, intense moment, before he nodded, then headed back out into the throng.
The muffled sounds of the enthusiastic crowd outside infiltrated her conflicting thoughts. As she settled herself in for the duration it occurred to her that if it were not for that man’s unpleasant behaviour at their first meeting, she would not have been sitting in a bathroom, dressed up, hungry and alone.
Smiling to herself, she felt much more comfortable thinking nothing but ill of him once more.
CHAPTER THREE
JACOB LINCOLN walked into his second-in-charge’s office first thing Monday morning. He had been able to catch up for a brief hello and welcome home Saturday night but one subject had been bothering him since.
Without hesitation, Ben rounded his desk and hugged his old friend. He patted him on the back once more, as though making sure he was really there.
‘I still can’t believe you’re back. And what an entrance. You sashayed into the match the other night, calm as you please, as if you’d never been away. Over the jet lag yet?’
‘Pretty much. I had forgotten how cold and dry the air is in Melbourne. It hits you as soon as you get off the plane. I don’t mind, though—I never could get used to the humidity in New Orleans.’
‘Good. It means you’re a Melbournian at heart.’
Jacob shrugged. ‘Or maybe it means I should try San Francisco next.’ Jacob sat down on the leather lounge chair on the near side of Ben’s desk. His fingers unconsciously played with his bottom lip as he broached the subject that had been worrying him.
‘At