Blind Dates and Other Disasters

CHAPTER SEVEN

ONLY when Holly made to follow her departing group did she find herself still attached to Jacob’s arm. Flicking him an apologetic smile, she released her steel grip. But he pulled her back until she was flush against him.

‘Not just yet, Ms Denison. Before I let you go, I have a question I simply must have answered.’

His voice was low and husky. His face was in shadow, and his dark hair in a halo of sunlight as he stood with his back to the sun.

‘Ask away,’ she said, her voice reedy.

‘What on earth are you wearing on your feet?’

Holly blinked. Looked at her feet. And grinned. In all the confusion, she had plum forgotten.

‘Haven’t you even seen a pair of galoshes before, Mr Lincoln?’

‘Of course. I have even seen ones that yellow before. But not, I must admit, on a grown woman, otherwise dressed to the hilt as you are. Is this some kind of fashion statement?’

‘Hmm. You have been away too long, haven’t you? Bright yellow galoshes are Melbourne’s must-have fashion item this winter.’

‘Throw out the little black dress?’ he asked.

Holly brought her spare hand to her heart and gasped in mock shock. ‘Gosh, no. Never. But wear with the little black dress? Of course.’

Jacob nodded, his expression deadly serious, as though impressed by her wealth of fashion knowledge. He eased her into a slow ramble towards the grandstand steps.

‘Now you’ve answered the what, do I get to hear thewhy?’

Holly paused a moment for effect. ‘So my feet don’t get wet.’

Jacob glanced at her sideways and raised one unconvinced eyebrow.

‘Okay. After last night’s downpour, I arrived this morning to find the ground below my marquee ankle-deep in mud. Rather than have guests whose only memory of the day would be their wet feet, and without having to move the whole shebang up to a dreary old conference room with no view of the track, I brought in enough galoshes and warm socks to shoe my entire guest list.’

As her tale unfurled Jacob stopped watching the group ahead of him, and concentrated fully on her, his eyes growing bright with delight.

‘And besides you, did anybody actually dare to wear them?’

‘Sure. Everybody.’

Holly pulled Jacob up short as they had reached the fence line that separated the crowd from the track. Jacob looked about for the rest of their group and finding them heaving themselves awkwardly over the fence several metres away, he tried tugging her in their direction.

But Holly tugged him back.

She beamed at him proudly, then slipped effortlessly through the concealed hole in the fence that the others did not know was there. Jacob watched in amazement before following her through.

They trudged across the muddy dirt track, nearing the huge white marquee, which glowed brightly in the midday sun, the canvas roof flapping softly in the light breeze. The sounds of clinking glasses and happy chatter wafted across the way.

Holly smiled inwardly. Jacob looked so dubious. His expression was like a child’s on Christmas Day, just before opening his present from Grandma. Would it be the monster truck he had been promised or would it be tartan hankies again?

Jacob’s doubt was written so clearly across his face that Holly’s inward smile twisted with sadness. She had the feeling that he probably always doubted good things could happen until he saw them with his own two eyes. This was a man who knew disappointment.

The men ahead of them lifted the flap and headed inside. Holly and Jacob came close on their heels. Enjoying the moment intensely, Holly made sure she got there first. She grabbed a hold of the big flap and feeling like a ringmaster, opened it with a flourish.

Jacob was astounded.

Inside the marquee were glass-topped tables, candlelight shimmered from every spare surface and even from makeshift chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling. Heaters were scattered discreetly throughout the tent. The walls crawled with ivy interweaved with daisies and daffodils. The effect was like a mirage, a dash of springtime in the middle of the gloomy, muddy oval outside.

He scanned the faces of the people in the room. Many familiar, several famous. All laughing and drinking and obviously having a ball. And all were wearing bright yellow galoshes.

He turned to Holly, who was watching him with a satisfied grin splashed across her lovely face. ‘I am impressed.’ ‘And your feet?’ she asked.

Jacob lifted one foot and saw the kid leather was wet through and through. ‘Ruined. Even my socks are soaked.’

Holly gave a quick nod to someone outside Jacob’s field of view and within a couple of seconds a waiter arrived, the tray in his arms laden with a pair of brand new galoshes and a pair of thick cotton socks, both in size extra large.

‘Do I have to?’ he asked.

‘What do you think?’

In answer Jacob grabbed the galoshes and pulled up a spare garden chair. He held up his wet leather lace-ups and the waiter swapped the ruined shoes for a cloakroom ticket and disappeared to look after other guests.

‘There,’ Holly said. ‘Now you fit in. Now you’re one ofus.’

She turned away to give instructions to an earnest young man with a clipboard. She was efficient. She liked being in control.

And then he realised: she was happy because he had done what she wanted him to do. He bristled, hating the feeling of being constrained, of being dared to make a choice not his own.

He was a free man with nothing and no one holding him down. He had lived that other life, being beholden to someone else’s needs and wishes. And he never wanted to go that way again. Then he stopped himself.

Relax. It’s a pair of shoes. This is one afternoon. You can give over to someone else’s wishes for one afternoon. It’s not like you will be giving over the decision-making to the woman for a lifetime.

A lifetime. And he remembered. She was on the hunt for a husband and had convinced Ben to help her.

Why? She was gorgeous. Slim, with curves in all the right places and the sort of lush dark hair any man would love to run his fingers through. And he knew those legs of hers were long, lithe, and smooth, though right now half hidden beneath those ridiculous rubber boots.

She had been attracting plenty of interested looks since she had walked in, and earlier his men had practically tripped over each other for the sake of one of her smiles.

Jacob observed a couple of well-dressed sorts on the other side of the tent obviously talking about her. And he felt an unexpected urge to go to her. To shield her from their view. To defend her against their scrutiny.

She must have caught him watching her as she raised her eyebrows in question. She held up a finger to tell him she would only be a moment.

Her face was so open. She smiled, she frowned, and every thought was out there for all to see. And as he watched her face became more familiar and comfortable every second. It was not long before he felt as if he knew every expression her lovely face could generate.

Finally, she came over and slumped into a chair beside him and at once in such close proximity, away from the beer and the sweaty men, a sudden sweet scent drifted his way. It was heady and rich, like jasmine. It was her. And it rocked him.

Trouble. The word rang unbidden in his head. Without even trying, this one could prove to be a whole truckload of trouble. He should go. Back to his corporate box. Back to the office. Back to the other side of the world.

He should. But he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. ‘You are a workhorse, Ms Denison,’ he said, his tone chatty.

‘All for the good of the racecourse,’ she said.

‘And all for the good of Cloud Nine’s coffers.’

‘Not this one, I’m afraid. This one is my own little baby and Cloud Nine have learnt to look the other way.’

‘You are doing all this for nothing?’

‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not footing the bill for all this grandeur. The costs for the day will come out of the takings, but I promise it will turn a very tidy profit.’

‘Of which you will see not a cent?’ Jacob could not believe he had heard right.

Holly laughed. ‘You are such a doubting Thomas, Mr Lincoln. I promise I will not see even forty cents for a phone call.’

‘Why?’

‘These fundraisers make enough every year to keep the place running. If I took my usual percentage the day would be redundant.’

‘But why here? Why this place? You said before you never bet. Do you just love the greyhounds that much?’

She pulled a face. ‘Not at all. The whole half-starved puppies chasing a rabbit thing doesn’t do it for me. It’s just for the colonel, really.’

‘How do you know him so well?’

She opened her mouth to answer but seemed to think better of it. She glanced around as though searching for a reason, or maybe a change of subject, and seemed to visibly relax when she saw the colonel coming her way.

‘Holly, my sweet!’ he said, his arms outstretched, ready to take her in.

She stood and gave the old man a big hug. Jacob felt an uncomfortable contraction in his chest at the sudden change in her. With him she was still the cool, confident, modern Melbourne woman, but in the company of the right person she blossomed into a completely different creature. Her smiles were softer, sweeter, with an abundant capacity for effortless delight.

‘Charlie. Are you having a good time?’ ‘Always, my pet.’

‘Are you ready for your speech? You are up in about ten minutes.’

‘No problem. You are a sweet girl.’ The colonel turned to Jacob. ‘Our little mascot she was, always running around underfoot. Long hair flying behind her as she ran about the grandstands collecting old tickets, looking for the one that got away.’

A snippet of conversation from the grandstand snuck back into Jacob’s consciousness. Not knowing how to fit the mismatched pieces into her story, he felt the fragment flutter away.

‘And look at that little scar.’ The colonel pointed at the bridge of Holly’s nose and, though she swatted his hand away playfully, Jacob thought he saw a moment of panic in her action. ‘Barely there now. All healed.’

Holly cut the colonel off, grabbing him around the middle and dragging him away, rolling her expressive blue eyes behind his back. ‘Anyway, Charlie, it’s all well and good taking us down amnesia lane, but it’s time to get you to the stage. Excuse us, Jacob.’

And this time when she smiled it was just for him. And he knew, despite his very sensible inner protests, he was not going anywhere any time soon.

The colonel’s speech went brilliantly. It was funny, sweet, and tender enough to have those listening make enough donations to run the old Hidden Valley Greyhound Course for another good year.

Jacob and Ben had waited for Holly. The other guys had gone back to the city to finish off their celebration, minus their guest of honour, and Holly offered to drop the two men home.

As the sun set over the all but empty racecourse they crossed the track in companionable silence. The ground had dried somewhat and they were all now in regular footwear. Though Holly, in her high heels, had a little trouble matching their long strides.

‘Isn’t this where you are supposed to lay down your coats for me?’ she asked the men.

‘I thought that was only for a queen,’ Ben said from a few steps ahead of them.

‘And we know you are only a princess,’ Jacob whispered against her ear, sending thrilling hot shivers down the back of her neck. Holly poked out her tongue, though inside she was feeling far from flippant.

No matter how often she reminded herself of her perfectly good theory, she was beginning to sense there was more going on behind Jacob’s taciturn gaze than she had at first thought. For instance, what sort of man would have the strength of personality to be able to persuade an alcoholic to drink lemonade in a public bar?

But maybe that was not the point. Maybe the theory just needed a little tweak. Maybe her archetypal Mr Standoffish was born with a conscience; just not with the commitment gene. He could be attractive as Adonis, and as intelligent as Plato, but would he be devoted as say, Ben?

That she very much doubted.

Jacob pressed a gentle hand to her back as they reached the gate to the car park. She leapt away from him as though his warm fingers were laced with fire. He did not seem to notice, he just kept herding her through the space and dropped his hand casually as they reached her car.

First Holly dropped Jacob back to the Lincoln Holdings offices where he was planning to put in a few more hours. He hopped out of the car, then peered through the driver window.

‘Thanks for the lift.’

‘No problem.’ She had left the engine running at the ready for a quick getaway.

‘And for the lovely afternoon. It was most … unexpected.’

She smiled, her lips tight, her hands clasping and unclasping the steering wheel. He was so close she could sense the remnants of his aftershave. Sweet and dry at the same time. Delicious.

He placed his hands on the bottom of the open window and leant in, his breath fanning her face as he spoke beyond her to Ben. ‘See you tomorrow, Benny boy.’

Ben cocked his hand like a pistol. ‘Shall do, boss.’

Jacob turned to Holly, his face still only inches from hers. It was all she could do not to close her eyes, drink in his delectable scent.

‘I’ll see you, Holly,’ he said, and by his tone she believed it. He leant in and brushed a fleeting kiss upon her cheek. His lips were warm, soft, and gone all too soon. ‘Promise me you will get Benny boy home to Beth in one piece.’

‘I promise. Goodbye, Jacob.’

And as soon as his hands left the window she sped away. Allowing herself one brief glance in the rear-view mirror she saw Jacob standing in the road, his hands in his trouser pockets, watching her.

She kept her focus on the road ahead though her mind was spinning in another direction. ‘Have you found anyone else to set me up with?’

Ben paused, as he seemed to absorb this question. ‘I’m sure I could rustle up a couple of possibilities.’

‘Then do it. As soon as possible.’

‘If that’s what you still want.’

‘It is.’ He was watching her but she ignored him. She had said all she wanted to say on the matter. ‘Consider it done.’

She nodded, then drove Ben home to his waiting wife.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THANK GOD it’s Friday, Holly thought as the drinks waiter handed over her champagne glass of lemon, lime, bitters, and a dash of honey. She savoured a long, thankful taste before looking over the room. All of the guests at the Arty Pants Modern Art Gallery Charity Evening were smiling, chatting, and paying a good deal of attention to the art. All was well.

Until one man in the corner smiled her way. A man in an expensive suit, blond hair thinning and styled to within an inch of its life, strong tan, perfect teeth. Holly’s smile faded.

Oh, boy, not another one. Do they pop out of an assembly line just to attend parties and openings and corroborate my theory?

The man raised his glass in salute. Holly gave him a short polite nod and then moved away.

Luckily Lydia had just arrived, back from a week assisting at a Star Trek conference in Sydney.

‘Hello, gorgeous!’ Lydia called out as though she were on the other side of the room, not leaning into Holly’s arms for a fond embrace. ‘Loving it all, Holl. Great food, fabulous music and a feast for the eyes. Speaking of which, that blond dish in the corner is eyeing you up.’

Holly shot a quick glance at the man. He was still watching her over his tumbler.

‘Sorry, Lydia. Not interested.’

Lydia raised a thin blonde eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Why? Do you have something better lined up for dinner already?’

‘Hardly. The truth is, while you were away Ben set me up on a spate of blind dates and the thought of telling my life story one more time makes me feel sick to the stomach.’

‘So the husband hunt is off to a flying start, hey?’

Holly shrugged.

‘Of course, while you were off having wildly romantic nights with dozens of men, I was fending off pointy eared, eight-foot geeks in rubber masks. Though there was this one Klingon …’ She smiled slowly, before shaking her head clear. ‘Anyway, please renew my hope in mankind. Tell me they were all delicious.’

Holly laughed. ‘Tiresome, more like.’

‘Hmm. Tiresome, were they?’ Lydia waved a hand, indicating her question related entirely to bedroom pursuits.

Holly grabbed the offending hand. ‘Lydia!’

‘Come on, then. Gory details, please. I expect to be swooning at the end of this.’

‘No promises, but here goes. Wednesday’s guy took me to a restaurant where we had to sit on the floor, which was fine, until he removed his shoes. Foot odour competing with curry is not a scent I will soon forget.’

‘So buy him cotton socks. Ooh, and you could wash his feet every night. Terribly sexy. Next!’

‘Okay. Last night my blind date picked me up from work. Nice car. Nice conversation. Nice guy. Until he took me via home to meet his mother. And that was before dinner.’

‘You are too picky. Mummy’s boys can be wonderful. I’ll bet he even cooks and cleans.’

‘You think I’m too picky? Well, then, beat this, one gentleman offered to sire me a football team.’

Lydia’s effusive laugh rang across the room so that several people turned their way. ‘Now that one is a definite keeper. If you don’t want him, give him my number.’

Holly felt an unwelcome prickling in her stomach at the thought of giving Lydia’s phone number to that particular blind date.

‘I guess this means fending off next-morning phone calls from panting men is back on my job description.’