The Wedding Wish. Ally Blake
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Link? As in Lincoln Holdings Lincoln?’
Ben flinched. ‘Ah, yes. He’s one and the same.’
‘What on earth is he doing here? You told me he lived in…New Orleans or some such place.’ And he was supposed to be balding, with a paunch and liver spots. Not…well, not so manifestly the opposite.
‘He did,’ Ben said. ‘Then without telling a soul he moved back to Melbourne a couple of days ago.’
That first morning, standing on the corner, armfuls of luggage, faint accent. Holly dropped her face into her palms.
‘That means I told him how little I thought of his boxing idea, not at the time realising that it was his idea, then accused him of going to the wrong bathroom, not at the time realising it was his bathroom. He’s really Jacob Lincoln?’ she repeated.
Ben shrugged and grinned contritely.
Holly’s voice hissed as she turned on Ben, her pent-up mortification whirling into a terrible rage. ‘And knowing all of this you set up this dinner, told him that I was “husband hunting”, and that he was my number one contender?’
Beth also turned on her husband. ‘Did you really do all of those things?’
Ben held his hands up in submission. ‘Hey, you guys dragged me into this ridiculous plan of yours. So, I took you to a gathering teeming with numerous available red-blooded men and you hid in the bathroom all night. And then I ask the most eligible of all red-blooded men I know to dinner and you attack me.’
Holly was having none of it. ‘But you told him—’
‘The truth, Holly. But to tell you the truth I really did wonder if my two best friends in the whole world might not hit it off.’
Beth’s face softened easily. ‘That’s so sweet. Holly, forgive Ben.’
Holly sat back, all angered out. Her face was heated from her strained whispers and her head spun with the maze of words and deeds they had created for themselves.
Beth giggled. ‘Now poor Jacob thinks Holly’s hot for him. No wonder he has been acting so strangely.’
‘Ah, well, actually,’ Ben said, ‘he knows the whole deal and has been pulling your legs all night.’
‘Ha!’ Beth said, clapping her hands together. ‘Now that’s more like the Jacob Lincoln of old.’
But Holly was not so amused. She was thinking. And planning. ‘He knows the whole deal and he thinks I’m now sweating it.’
‘Well, gorgeous, you have pretty much been sweating it all night,’ Ben said.
‘But I’m not now.’ Now she knew the glimmer in Jacob’s eyes had indicated he was enjoying an elaborate joke, not that he was sizing her up for a wedding dress.
Well, if it was fun and games he liked…
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN Jacob re-entered the room Holly was standing by her empty chair, eyes closed, rocking her head side to side. He suppressed a grin as he settled back in his chair. He shouldn’t have been worried; he still had the upper hand. He had the poor woman in knots.
As he watched she ran a hand up her side, and then back and forth across her shoulder, eyes still closed, head tossed back, leisurely massaging out those very knots. Her mouth dropped open and a blissful groan escaped her lips.
Whoa.
Jacob shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling mighty uncomfortable. He set his teeth and tore his eyes away before he would be forced to make another hasty exit to recollect his wits.
‘What did I miss?’ he asked, purposely not including Holly in his question.
But Holly had ceased her rub-down, and Jacob’s gaze was magnetically drawn to the movement. He did not miss a single curve as her hand made its unhurried journey back down her side to rest provocatively on her hip.
‘Nothing significant, Jacob,’ Holly purred. ‘I was just saying how much I was hankering for something sweet.’
Her lashes batted heavily against her cheeks, then her gaze fluttered and drifted to his lips.
The words ‘then come and get it’ sat precariously close to the tip of Jacob’s tongue. Get a hold of yourself, he told himself. You’re imagining things. You’re just tired. It’s not been a week; can you still blame the jet lag?
‘Time for dessert, then, I think,’ Beth said, her voice cheerful. Jacob flicked his glance to his other dinner companions. He had momentarily forgotten they were even there.
It took all of Jacob’s concentration to focus on Beth, chatting to her about her nursery plans, resolutely ignoring Holly as she moved around the table clearing the dinner plates. His resolve weakened as he sensed her reach the back of his chair and it shattered when she bent to retrieve his plate and fanned a warm breath of air against his ear. It was all he could do to keep a straight face as a violent shiver racked his body.
Then, before disappearing into the kitchen, Holly turned and threw him a sultry wink.
Jacob stared at the closed kitchen door. She had assured him nothing significant had happened in his absence. She had fibbed.
In five mystery minutes, she had transformed from an overwhelmed young woman into a raging siren. And despite himself he was enthralled. Under that haughty façade lurked a hell-cat just waiting to claw her way out. It could be a lot of fun unlocking the door to that particular cage.
Jacob blinked his eyes back into focus to find Ben red-faced and shaking with laughter and Beth wiping tears of mirth from her cheeks.
And the truth dawned on him.
‘She knows.’ Jacob threw his napkin on the table in defeat.
‘She knows,’ Ben admitted. ‘Shouting and hitting from you is nothing compared with the combined wrath of those two.’
‘So,’ Beth asked, her voice playful, ‘are you going to propose to her now or after dessert?’
From the kitchen, Holly was glad to hear laughter.
She was about to return to the dining room to retrieve the cutlery when the kitchen door flapped open and Jacob joined her, cutlery in hand.
‘Oh.’ She took a step back, swamped by the man’s considerable presence in the small kitchen. He leant past her to place the silverware in the sink, the sleeve of his dark grey suit jacket brushing against her arm. The sensation of the roughened wool against smooth bare skin was electric.
‘I’m happy to clear. Go sit back down.’ She waved him away with a flourish, and took two steps back leaving her flush against the kitchen cupboards. She desperately hoped he would leave her alone. But hoping did not make it so.
‘Actually, I’m here to talk. The cutlery was just an excuse.’
‘Oh,’ she murmured again.
‘That was some act you put on in there.’
Her blush was back. ‘Your performance wasn’t so bad either.’
He lowered his voice so that it washed over her as a soft rumble. ‘Though I don’t know that I can outdo your last turn—not with an audience, anyway.’
Gulp.
‘So how about we call it even?’ He held out his hand. ‘Truce?’
Holly stared for several moments before reaching out and clasping it. His hand was soft and strong and she was thankful his palm was as warm as hers. When she let go she ran a nervous finger around the neckline of her dress.
‘And I also wanted to apologise for that morning on the street.’
Holly’s finger stopped, mid tug.
‘That