Blind Dates and Other Disasters: The Wedding Wish

‘That’s okay by me. You don’t drink?’

‘Not when I’m working, no.’

He had forgotten for a moment she was working. Foolishly, he had been lulled into feeling as if they were just out for a drink. He and Holly, together.

Mistake.

Holly played with one of her dangly turquoise earrings as she turned to chat to the head beverage waiter, making sure the guests had so far been happy on the drinks front.

Jacob used the quiet moment to focus, to get back to the real reason he had come. The fact that she was on the lookout for a husband was not proving to be a big enough barrier to his temptation any more. So he took a good look at her, with every intention of finding as many faults as it would take to render her unappealing.

Her customary fringe was slicked from a dramatic side parting across her forehead, and hair was drawn into a low heavy bun at her nape, leaving her creamy shoulders bare. He wished she would wear her hair down for once. There, that was a fault. Wasn’t it?

With a critical eye his gaze moved lower, meandering down the delectable curves enhanced by her stunning, sleek, psychedelic dress. The lustrous fabric fell to the top of her feet, thus hiding her lovely legs. She covered them too often. He knew he was stretching to find a fault with that, but a fault it had to be.

And then, as though she sensed the direction of his gaze, Holly’s hand left her earring and ran down her leg to her foot, unconsciously rubbing the insole. Watching, enthralled, Jacob caught a glimpse of a simple gold toe ring on one sandalled foot and it surprised him. A touch of the gypsy amidst her cool glamour. He let out a deep breath, the simple frivolity of that one piece of jewellery promising so much more. So much hidden. So much waiting to be discovered.

Through her entire conversation Holly had been sure Jacob’s eyes had not left her and as such she had barely been able to concentrate on the poor waiter, having to ask him to repeat himself on more than one occasion.

But when she looked up Jacob’s wide eyes were on the waiter, who was dipping a teaspoon in and out of their drinks.

‘Is that honey?’ he asked.

Holly merely raised her eyebrows as if to say, You asked for it. She took her drink and sipped at it happily.

Jacob took his, sniffed at it, stared at it, and shook the glass. And even put his ear close to listen to it.

‘Why don’t you just try drinking it?’ Holly said, her voice full of laughter.

‘And why don’t you sit down for a second?’

‘Fair enough.’ Holly slid onto the bar stool next to his. She groaned in gratification as she eased the weight off her sore feet. ‘So, why did you come back from overseas?’

‘The time was right.’

She nodded, though she wanted more information. More background. Just more.

‘And with your sister’s impending marriage, I bet she’s happy.’

‘She is.’ For a brief second he let down his guard and Holly saw the genuine affection he held for his sister. His face glowed with it. And it was lethally charming.

Now that was a definite chink in her theory. This guy was meant to have no attachments. He could be devoted to his business. Or even passionate about his car. But he was not meant to radiate such tenderness when talking of another person.

Hang on. The theory could still hold true; she would just have to make another slight modification. Blood relatives were an exception to the ‘no attachments’ rule. That seemed only fair.

‘And the company?’ she continued. ‘Were your employees pleased to see you? Though it does mean they will have to start actually working, stop the three-hour lunches, and fire the in-house masseuse that Ben always raves about.’

‘Are you kidding? That’s the main reason I’m back.’ He touched his hand to the back of his neck. ‘I’ve had this dull ache in my third vertebra.’

‘Sure you have.’

Feeling cosy and safe in the conversation, she could not stop herself from asking the question that had been foremost in her mind for the last few days.

‘So are you here to stay?’

The sparkle left Jacob’s eyes as he considered her for a long, agonising moment. Her heart seemed to stop beating as she awaited the answer.

‘For now.’

She nodded, though her inappropriate angst had not been assuaged one little bit.

As though sensing the sudden weight of the subject at hand, Jacob turned the conversation to more ordinary issues. They talked about the gallery, and surprisingly Jacob knew a lot about the resident artist. He even had one of ‘the superb St John’s ace lithographs’ in his apartment.

Her feet lightly aching, Holly once more ran a massaging palm over the arch of her foot.

‘Long day?’ Jacob asked.

‘Long week.’

‘Too many nights out, I think.’

She stopped rubbing and sat up, slowly, not looking his way. ‘And I’d have to agree with you.’ ‘Maybe you should cut back?’ ‘Maybe I should.’

Holly’s pulse was racing. The swirl of meaning behind their innocuous conversation reverberated in the air around them. Was he asking her not to see other men? Was she agreeing? Was she mad?

‘What if …?’ Jacob said, his voice trailing off.

What if, what? Holly thought, her nerves screaming in anticipation. She felt like a bell still resonating long after it had been struck.

‘Dinner. Tomorrow night. Just you and me.’ Jacob turned on his seat, his left hand coming down to rest upon hers. ‘No strings. Just dinner.’

His little finger was stroking, playing, tantalising, sending hot, jolting shivers from her sensitive fingertips up her bare arms, melting the length of her suddenly rigid body. And then he smiled. Strength, Holly. A smile is teeth and lips and muscles. Nothing more.

‘I won’t demand any feet-washing at the end of the night. Unless of course you feel the urge …’

She pulled her hand away. She wanted strings. That was the whole point. Holly stood up behind the bar stool, putting herself a safe distance from his potent magnetism.

‘It’s never just dinner, Jacob. And neither should it be.’

‘But—’

‘But, you know my long-term plans. I want a husband. And you can’t even tell me if you’re still going to be in the country in a week, so I’m guessing marriage is not an option in your foreseeable future.’

All colour drained from Jacob’s face and there was her answer. So he loves his sister, so he supports charities, so he has a smile that liquefies all common sense. He is and always will be the indisputable anti-husband. There never was a safer bet.

‘I didn’t think so. So there’s really no point in having dinner, is there?’

For the sake of her own disobedient feelings she simply had to hit the point home as far as she could. So she lied. ‘Besides which, you’re simply not my type.’