Читать книгу Blind Dates and Other Disasters: The Wedding Wish - Элли Блейк, Ally Blake - Страница 11

HOLLY waited until in between races to make her way from the big white marquee on the oval in the centre of the track where the Hidden Valley Greyhound Course fundraiser was being held. She stepped carefully, lifting her feet high as she made her way across the muddy dirt track.

Colonel Charles Lyneham, a long-retired Steward of the Course and her guest of honour, had gone for a walk around an hour before and had not returned, so Holly had set out to find him.

She ducked through a spot in the fence where the wire had broken away years before and headed up the old wooden steps to the grandstand. She checked in the clerk’s offices, the betting areas and even in the car park. But the colonel was nowhere to be seen. She headed for the public bar, hoping she would not find him there.

As she rounded the corner the scene hit her like déjà vu. The smell of beer, mud and sweat. She, standing on the outside looking in, searching for someone she had lost. The only difference was years before her view had been from a couple of feet closer to the ground. At least now she was the right height to have a chance at finding a familiar silver-topped head standing tall above the pack.

She lifted on tiptoe but instead of finding said familiar silver-topped head, she recognised a pair of stunning, laughing hazel eyes looking her way.

Her heels dropped straight to the ground, her mind turning to the last time she had seen those eyes; midnight in a fog-shrouded street, after an exquisite kiss that had confused her exceedingly.

Suddenly a man reached out from the throng and grabbed her by the elbow, drawing her within the swelling crowd and giving her a big brotherly kiss on the cheek.

‘Ben! What are you doing here?’ Holly said, looking behind him half expecting Jacob to be hot on his trail.

‘The company has a corporate box and Link sequestered it for the day. All the management guys are here for a welcome home bash. Come join us.’

‘I can’t, Ben. I’m here on a mission not a play date.’ She tried to step back outside the bar but the crowd had long since swallowed them whole. ‘Have you seen Charles Lyneham? He’s with my party and seems to have gone walkabout.’

‘The colonel? He’s with us.’

Ben held her fast by the arm and dragged her through the crush. Bumped and jostled from all sides, she had no choice but to hug Ben’s arm with both hands and hang on tight.

‘Link found him wandering around outside after the first race,’ Ben said. ‘He coaxed him in for a tipple and he’s been with us ever since. Now you’ll have to come say hello.’

‘Great,’ Holly said. ‘He’s due to make a thank-you speech at our fundraiser in little under half an hour, and, the thing is, Charlie does not merely tipple. Now, thanks to your friend, if he’s been in the bar tippling for an hour, it’s very likely he will be there all day.’

Ben shrugged but had the good grace to look sheepish. ‘Sorry, gorgeous.’

Jacob’s hearty laughter rang out above their conversation and, despite her deliberate disapproval, she enjoyed every second of the delightful sound, an unwitting smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth. He certainly cut a compelling picture, standing taller than most of the others, one hand wrapped around a frosty glass of beer, the other tucked into the pocket of his suit trousers, and one foot casually resting on the bottom rung of a bar stool.

He was just ten feet away. The room was airless and muggy. Her face was hot and her palms sweating. And with each step nearer her heartbeat quickened.

She tottered after Ben, still holding tight so she wouldn’t tumble and be crushed underfoot. She ventured a furtive glance around. No sign of Charlie, but she had no doubt he would not be far away.

Five feet. She felt eager and sick to the stomach all at once.

Come on, look up, see me. Let’s just get it over with. Let’s see if that kiss meant as little to you as it did to me.

‘Link,’ Ben called out over the noise.

Jacob looked their way. His ready smile brightened, and he winked as he caught sight of Ben. Then his glance shifted sideways to Holly and the smile changed.

His bright eyes darkened, clouded, his thick lashes descended mere millimetres until he was watching her from beneath them. The corners of his mouth fell. The warmth in his expression was more than a match for the heat pulsing through her body at that moment.

Then his gaze left her face to glance down to where she was hugging Ben’s left arm tight to her chest.

She let go. Quickly. Hating the fact she must have seemed so helpless, in her neat dress, her prim hair, clinging to Ben for protection against the unruly crowd.

Ben did not seem to notice, he just turned and smiled and placed a protective arm behind her back as he drew her into the group.

When Jacob looked back to Holly’s face his smile was gone, and his once warm eyes were now cool and unreadable. He brought his glass up, and tilted it in her direction in an abrupt salute before drinking in a substantial mouthful and turning back to his men.

Holly’s face burned. Sure, she had been the one to insist they pretend they had never met, but, still, she had not expected it to be so easy for him. In his company she could feel her pulse throbbing all the way to her toes. Yet this guy obviously felt nothing. He was too cool.

Ugh! Why had she expected it to be any different? She knew she had him pegged but for a moment had foolishly expected him to prove her wrong. Well, it looked as if her theory still stood the test. So be it.

She deliberately turned away from Jacob and assumed her most brilliant smile.

‘I heard you gentlemen had waylaid a friend of mine.’

The men stopped talking as one.

‘Sorry, Holly,’ Ben said, ‘it slipped my mind. Holly is in charge of the fundraiser under the big marquee and it seems we have stolen away her guest of honour.’ He looked around, his hand never leaving Holly’s back. ‘Where has the young colonel gone?’

‘It’s his round, I’m afraid,’ one young, good-looking member of the group said, his eyes on Holly, full of invitation. ‘No way we could let him go until he’d paid his debt. So, you’ll just have to wait with us until he gets back. And since this great lug won’t introduce us, I’m Matt Riley. The new Accounts guy.’

‘Nice to meet you Matt. I’m Holly Denison.’ She shook his hand. It held hers for a fraction longer than necessary.

‘I know,’ he said.

Ben’s joke came swimming back to her and Holly had visions of her photograph and phone number in the men’s room at his work—

‘I saw you at the fight.’

This guy was at the fight? He was one of the men she’d had the possibility of meeting that night? She took a closer look at the very real option before her. Tall, athletic, nice smile. Very cute.

Then from behind her Jacob openly scoffed. Holly spun on her heel and turned narrowed eyes his way, but to little avail. His distant expression was unaltered.

‘You must have good eyesight, Riley. She was there for all of ten seconds.’

His gaze held hers without a hint of remorse. She glared back, her infuriated eyes daring him to go on and at the same time demanding he say not another word.

He turned to face Matt and shrugged. ‘From what Benny boy told me, anyway.’

‘Well, obviously ten seconds was enough to make an impression on me. But you did your runner before I had the chance to say hi.’

Holly spun back to face her new suitor and beamed, before flicking a smug grin over her shoulder at Jacob.

‘You don’t say.’

Go, Matt, she thought, you’re definitely younger, possibly cuter, and certainly more of a gentleman than the loud mouth behind me. Fair where Jacob is dark. Candid where Jacob is confusing. Yes, very cute indeed. But I think you know it too. Highly likely another party personality at work.

Suddenly disinclined to play favourites, she broke away from Matt’s concentrated attention and introduced herself to several other young men, most of them her age, a couple of them uncommonly good-looking. These guys were in the inner sanctum so they were obviously smart, successful and hand picked by Ben to work at Lincoln Holdings. This was exactly who Ben should have been setting her up with.

She was able to enjoy the possibilities for several moments until she once more locked eyes with Jacob. He wasn’t smiling at her as the other men were; he was practically smirking. Sitting back, arms crossed, like an omniscient little devil watching over her. Evidently, he knew exactly what was going on in her mind.

Holly plastered the smile to her face and shrugged. Why deny it? What was it to him anyway?

‘Holly, my sweet. How good of you to join us.’ It was the colonel, back with a round of drinks. ‘I would have invited you to come up here with me but it’s been years since I have seen you step foot in this ancient inn.’

‘Charlie,’ Holly said, her antagonism subsiding in the company of the darling old man, ‘you know I would go anywhere you asked me to. But we do have another arrangement today. Remember the fundraiser?’

Charlie nodded.

‘The big marquee? Your thank-you speech?’

He stopped nodding. ‘Oh.’

She studied him carefully for signs he had been drinking. He was sweating a little, but so was she in the hot, confined space. He was upright and his speech was not slurred. Shy of sniffing the drink in his hand she had no idea if he had been ‘tippling’ as Ben had suggested.

‘I suggest we let Charlie finish his lemonade,’ Jacob said, ‘then we can all head down and listen to this great speech of his. What do you say, Ms Denison?’

Lemonade? Holly looked up into Jacob’s face in amazement. Gone was the smirk. In its stead was a raised eyebrow, an easy smile. How had he known?

‘Sounds fair to me,’ Holly said, sending Jacob a terse nod of thanks.

The colonel downed the remainder of his lemonade with one swift, practised flick of his wrist. ‘Off we go then.’

Holly turned towards the front of the bar and found she was confronted once more by a seething mass of white shirts and ties. She physically dreaded forcing her way through the hot, sweaty throng. But then Jacob’s voice bellowed from just behind her.

‘Clear the way, gentlemen! The colonel is coming through.’

All of the men nearby acquiesced, and once the Chinese whispers spread through the place a clear, snaking path, an amazing sort of honour guard, formed from their table to the door. The colonel smoothed down his suit and with head held high traversed the way.

Holly felt a warm hand land softly in the small of her back. She turned to find Jacob bowing gallantly towards her, his face mere inches from her own.

‘Shall we, Ms Denison?’ He removed his warm hand and offered his elbow. She looked into his quixotic hazel eyes searching for a trap. Unfortunately they were as inscrutable as he chose them to be.

Ahead of her the extraordinary meandering path was threatening to collapse back in on itself. For once Jacob’s company seemed the lesser of two evils, so she took his arm and walked at his side.

The back of Holly’s hand rubbed against Jacob’s shirt-covered bicep, the sensation heated, intoxicating, reprehensible. Thankfully the awareness of that tantalising touch was shortlived, as soon the peripheral heat was all that registered.

The room was stifling, her view filled with sweaty, leering faces. Somebody trod on her foot and spinning around to apologise, they spilt drink down her side. She leapt back, clutching onto Jacob’s arm with both hands. He immediately wrapped a protective hand over the top of hers, its warmth and tenderness calming her a little.

Feeling claustrophobic, she closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be led the rest of the way blind. Only once bright sunlight lit the inside of her eyelids blood red did she open them.

Finding they were now in the big open space at the top of the grandstand, she hungrily inhaled the fresh, cool winter air, her breath releasing on a shudder.

She turned to thank Jacob but he was in conversation with two of his men, pointing towards the track where Race Three had just begun. And Holly knew she would not get any sense from any of them until the event was over.

The first two races had been won by the favourites and Holly expected no different ending to this one. She remained silent, unmoved as the dogs rounded the final bend.

The sparse crowd in the grandstand rose to its collective feet and the men in her own party jumped up and down, yelling and screaming, and clutching their betting slips in tight, agitated fists. The favourite, Sir Pete, was a nose behind, and the possibility of an upset electrified the air.

‘I don’t know why they get so excited,’ Holly muttered under her breath, ‘Sir Pete will win.’

‘Don’t bet on it,’ Jacob said equally quietly, his eyes bright.

‘I never would.’

Then, in the last twenty metres, Sir Pete put on a phenomenal burst of speed and finished two body lengths ahead of his nearest competitor.

‘I hate to lose,’ Jacob said through comically clenched teeth as he ceremoniously tore up his losing bet. ‘So pick the favourite.’

A huge grin broke out over his face, its effortless brilliance surprising her, catching her unawares and sending a blissful rush from her neck to her toes.

‘You are one surprising woman, Holly Denison.’

Definitely time to go back to her party.