The Wedding Wish

Dear Reader,

We’re constantly striving to bring you the best romance fiction by the most exciting authors…and in Harlequin Romance® we’re especially keen to feature fresh, sparkling, warmly emotional novels. Modern love stories to suit your every mood: poignant, deeply moving stories; lively, upbeat romances with sparks flying; or sophisticated, edgy novels with an international flavor.

All our authors are special, and we hope you continue to enjoy each month’s new selection of Harlequin Romance books. This month we’re delighted to feature a novel with extra fizz! New Australian author sparkles with a fresh, vivid and lively writing style, and The Wedding Wish simply effervesces with vibrant, witty, lovable characters such as Holly and Jake—but also their friends Beth, Ben and Lydia. It’s fresh, flirty and feel-good!

We hope you enjoy this book by Ally Blake—and look out for future sparkling stories in Harlequin Romance. If you’d like to share your thoughts and comments with us, do please write to:

The Harlequin Romance® Editors

Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd.

Eton House

18-24 Paradise Road

Richmond

Surrey TW9 1SR, U.K.

or e-mail: www.Tango@hmb.co.uk

Happy reading!

The Editors

Ally Blake worked in retail, danced on television and acted in friends’ short films until the writing bug could no longer be ignored. And as her mother had read romance novels ever since Ally was a baby, the aspiration to write Harlequin novels had been almost bred into her. Ally married her gorgeous husband, Mark, in Las Vegas (no Elvis in sight, thank you very much) and they live in beautiful Melbourne, Australia. Her husband cooks, he cleans and he’s the love of her life. How’s that for a hero?

This is Ally Blake’s first book!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my angel, Mark, who looked after me, brought me M&M’s and made me feel as if I had it in me all the time.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘I’M GETTING married,’ Holly announced as she slammed her briefcase on the desk in her office at Cloud Nine Event Management, fifteen minutes later than her usual start time.

‘You’re doing what?’ Beth’s voice rang metallic and loud from Holly’s speakerphone.

Holly sat down, crossed her legs, noticed a run in her stockings, and her mood went from bad to worse. She grabbed a new pair of stockings from the neat pile stocked in her bottom desk drawer, before moving into her private bathroom to change from frayed to fresh. She had to raise her voice for it to reach the speakerphone, but in her current temper that was not a problem.

‘I said I’m getting married.’

‘But I can’t remember you dating any man more than once in the last six months, much less becoming familiar enough to want to marry one of them.’

Holly’s assistant Lydia chose that moment to enter the office. She stopped in her tracks, the coffee she carried all but sloshing over the sides, and stared at the speakerphone as though it had produced an offensive noise. Holly came back into the room, new stockings in place, and waved a ‘hurry up’ hand at Lydia who placed the cup down without spilling a drop.

With no apology, Lydia joined the private conversation. ‘Did I hear you guys right? In the time it took for me to make Holly a cuppa, she’s hooked herself a fiancé? That’s saying something for instant coffee.’

‘Is that you, Lydia?’ Beth asked.

Lydia leaned towards the speakerphone, articulating her words as though speaking to someone hard of hearing. ‘How are you, Beth? When is the baby due?’

‘I’m fantastic. Baby Jeffries should be here in a month or so—’

‘Ah, guys,’ Holly interrupted, ‘major life decision being made here.’

Lydia mimed buttoning her lips shut tight.

‘Sorry, sweetie,’ Beth said. ‘Blame Lydia. You know if anyone asks about the bubby, I gush. Do go on.’

‘Thank you.’ Holly took a deep breath and launched into her story. ‘This morning, as I walked the last block along Lonsdale Street, this…man all but barrelled me over. Everything I was carrying went flying. My briefcase ended up in the gutter, pens rolled down the road and all my precious papers scattered across the footpath. And as I was on my hands and knees crawling around collecting my materials he had the nerve to tell me to watch where I was going.’

‘Was he cute?’ was Lydia’s instant response.

Not cute, Holly remembered. She pictured early morning sunlight glinting off light flecks in hazel eyes. Tired dark smudges underneath those eyes. Sympathy she had felt at his exhausted expression. His scowl as he had realised she had dropped everything she was carrying. The same scowl that had extinguished her sympathy. The rich, deep voice with a hint of a foreign accent as he had said his piece. No, cute was not the word.

‘Tall,’ Holly eventually established, ‘dark mussed hair. Matching dimples. Smelled nice. But that’s irrelevant.’

‘Irrelevant?’ Beth said. ‘He sounds perfect.’

‘I reckon,’ Lydia agreed.

‘Just when you stop looking where you are going, he finds you. It’s kismet.’

Holly rolled her eyes, picturing Beth reaching for one of her New Age books to justify the incident.

‘He did not find me, Beth, he berated and bruised me. See.’ Holly pointed out a light scrape on her knee to Lydia, who pouted in appreciation.

‘And this is the guy you’re going to marry?’ Lydia asked.

‘No! You’ve both missed the point.’

‘Which is?’

‘The point is, the whole horrible episode brought about an epiphany. My social life consists exclusively of attending parties we coordinate. But instead of meeting men, I meet male party personalities. They mislead me with an attractive, charming, confident disguise but there is never anything more going on behind the eye-catching masks they wear. The gentleman this morning was very attractive, uncompromising, and uncaring and was therefore the embodiment of all that is wrong with the men I meet. It’s a foolproof theory.’

‘I’m confused,’ Lydia said. ‘If not this guy, who on earth are you marrying?’

‘That’s the thing—I’ve decided Ben is going to find him for me.’

‘My Ben?’ Beth asked after a couple of seconds of bewildered silence.

‘Of course. Can’t you see it’s the only way? Ben works in a big company, he’s got plenty of staff under him, mostly young men he has hand-picked, and he knows me better than anyone apart from you guys. He’s the perfect objective observer and if he can find me someone he likes then we can all be friends for ever. You know, live next door to one another, have neighbourhood BBQs, go on camping trips…’

‘You hate camping—’

‘I’m not joking, Beth. Come on, you have to see how flawless a plan it is.’

‘And all of this came from banging into some very attractive, dimpled, nice smelling guy on the street?’ Beth asked.

‘It was like when we collided he smacked some sense into me.’

‘Gave you concussion, more like it,’ Lydia muttered.

Holly shot Lydia an unimpressed look.

‘This guy must have been something to get you of all people talking marriage,’ Beth said.

‘Why me of all people?’

‘Come on, Holly. You are the most controlled, independent woman I know. You keep a colour range of spare pairs of stockings in your office drawer, for goodness’ sake.’

Catching sight of those very packets, Holly casually closed the drawer shut with her foot.

‘And here you are,’ Beth continued, ‘wanting to put your future happiness in someone else’s hands.’

‘Ben is not just someone else and you know that. I trust him to make a good choice.’

‘I can’t believe you are making some sort of sense,’ Beth admitted. ‘All right, come over for dinner tonight so that we can ambush my poor, unknowing husband.’

‘Thanks, Beth. You are the best friend in the whole wide world.’

‘And don’t you forget it.’

After Beth rang off Lydia peeled her lanky form from the chair and loped to Holly’s office door where she turned back to ask, ‘Did he help pick the stuff up?’

Holly dragged her attention away from the beckoning projects on her desk. ‘Mmm, he dropped his bags and bent down to help almost instantly. But he was telling me off at the time so that’s irrelevant too.’

‘And you were walking with your head down, immersed in thoughts of what you had to do today, not looking where you were going, weren’t you?’

‘Sure…’

‘But that’s irrelevant, right?’

Holly narrowed her eyes, willing Lydia not to continue, but her mocking look was to no avail.

‘A tall, dark, handsome stranger bowls you over and then gets down on his hands and knees to help. And you have decided this is a bad thing. I, on the other hand, would spend the rest of the day looking dreamily out the window if that happened to me. But no such luck. My morning consisted of being rubbed up against by a schoolboy on the train.’

Lydia sighed spectacularly and Holly could not help but grin at her amateur dramatics. ‘You do realise that since I am your boss your job is to ooh and aah and say, “poor Holly”, don’t you?’

‘I thought my job was to get you coffee and stand on chairs so that you can drape fabrics over me and hold all incoming calls from any men you may have had uninspiring dates with the night before.’

‘Sure,’ Holly agreed after a moment’s thought, ‘that too.’

Lydia left the room and headed back to her desk to prepare herself for a day of imagining walking up Lonsdale Street and banging into tall, dark, handsome strangers.

Jacob helped the driver haul the last of his luggage into the waiting taxi. As the car pulled away he ran a hand through his mussed hair, leant back onto the headrest, and was surprised to catch such a world-weary reflection peering back at him from the window.

Jacob’s focus shifted and he watched the familiar home-town buildings flick past. He was not yet sure how he felt about being home. So far, so good. And a hot shower and a sleep in his own bed would only make it better. But how long would it be this time before he yearned to move on?

Either way Jacob knew Melbourne was a magnificent city. Take that enchanting woman he had just had an exchange with on the street. Now there was a real Melbourne woman. Pale smooth skin suited to the temperate clime, stylish to a fault, a compelling face, and subtle, easy confidence. You didn’t find women quite like that anywhere else in the world. In any case he hadn’t yet. During the drive home, his thoughts kept coming back to the brunette with the fiery blue eyes who had somehow roused his ordinarily controlled temper.

Jet lag. It had to have been jet lag.

‘Babe?’ Ben’s voice called out from the front hallway.

Holly’s hand leapt to her throat. She had not even heard the front door.

‘In here, darling,’ Beth called, sitting on an armchair they’d dragged into the kitchen to ease her aching back.

Holly understood Beth’s raised eyebrows and tight mouth. This is your last chance to change your mind, her expression said. But Holly was not to be deterred. ‘Just follow the delicious aroma of grilled chicken à la Holly wafting from the kitchen.’

Ben popped his head around the door. He leaned down and kissed his wife, not even asking why their lounge chair was in the kitchen. Holly offered her cheek for a kiss, which she duly received.

‘To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, gorgeous?’ Ben leant over Holly to have a good look at dinner. She slapped his hand as he tried to grab a piece of potato.

Holly glanced once more at Beth, who gave her a discreet thumbs up. ‘I want you to set me up with someone from your work.’

Holly clenched her face waiting for the inevitable ‘no’.

‘Sure,’ Ben answered.

Holly was too stunned to stop him spooning a baby potato into his mouth. ‘Really?’

‘Of course. It’s Derek from Payroll, isn’t it? He’s always had a thing for you, you know.’

‘For starters it’s not Derek. I mean, yuck.’

‘Come on, Ben,’ Beth said in support, ‘you know she likes tall, dark and handsome. Derek’s a weed.’

‘Then who?’

Holly proceeded to explain her inspired theory and the mechanics of her plan with endlessly increasing enthusiasm until Ben could have no doubt of her sincerity.

‘You two are serious, aren’t you?’

‘Deadly serious,’ Beth agreed. ‘I have mapped out her stars, and Holly is primed.’

Ben did a Groucho Marx with his eyebrows. Beth slapped his thigh playfully. ‘Primed for a big change, you idiot. This is serious, Ben. She is getting on in years.’

‘She’s twenty-seven.’

‘And I want to be her matron of honour while I’m still young enough and pretty enough to at least have a shot at outshining the bride.’

‘You’re nuts, the both of you. I shouldn’t let the two of you alone in a room together. It bodes badly for the future of mankind.’

‘But you will do it, won’t you, darling?’

Faced with their excited united front, there was nothing Ben could do but agree.

CHAPTER TWO

SO, THE next night Holly meandered through the outer bar of the Fun and Games sports nightclub on the arm of her best friend’s husband. She was dressed to kill in a black silk dress: fitted, strapless and split to the thigh.

‘Do you have anyone in particular lined up for me tonight?’ Holly shouted in Ben’s ear to be heard over the loud, pumping music.

‘Actually, I stuck your photo on the wall in the men’s washroom at work along with a note saying you would be here tonight. That way they can just come to you.’

‘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.

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.’