Blind Dates and Other Disasters: The Wedding Wish

‘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 had knocked her down in the street the day before!

Her senses surged to full alert. He radiated 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.