Blind Dates and Other Disasters: The Wedding Wish
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‘My closest friends are your closest friends. My business and your business will be of great benefit to each other. So what if I know that your current goal is hooking a husband and I am still willing to have you over to my place on a dinner date? Maybe one thing does not have to exclude the other.’
Holly’s knees all but buckled beneath her.
So much for his agenda. So much for it’s business not personal. Who was he kidding?
She was one big spanner in the works of any agenda he could ever hope to follow. Standing there, her glorious hair spilling over her shoulders, her huge eyes pleading for him to put her out of her misery, one way or the other. It was all he could do not to just haul her off to his bedroom like some caveman and show her exactly how uncomfortable she made him feel. He didn’t know what they were. But they were no more ‘friends of friends’ than they were business associates.
He should change his mind. Thank her for her thorough presentation and send her home. But the words that came out of his mouth were, ‘It’s not complicated. Let’s stop avoiding each other when we could be having so much more fun enjoying each other. At least until the thing you most wish for becomes more imminent anyway.’
There. Now how’s that for a spanner in the works?
Jacob wiped his hands on a clean teatowel, poured two new glasses of wine and grabbed two rolled-up napkins from the kitchen bench. He passed her on his way to the dining table, the determined look in his eyes daring her to disagree with his perfectly sensible proposal.
What thing? Holly wondered, the idea of she and Jacob ‘enjoying each other’ pretty much blotting out the rest of his speech.
Oh, a husband. A partner. Someone to love you. Someone like Jacob.
And like a bolt of lightning it hit her. Right in the stomach. Like a sucker punch. And she was lucky not to have collapsed under its weight.
Talk about complicating things. She was head over heels for Jacob.
Ever since she had seen him dragging his heavy luggage along the footpath, she had been lost. She had been filled with a longing, which she had mistakenly tried to shoulder onto someone else, anyone else, other than the one who had produced it in the first place. She knew without any doubt her husband hunt had been over from the moment it began.
He lay the glasses on the table, unrolled the linen napkins, which contained two sets of cutlery, and shifted a small vase of wildflowers so they would not hamper their view of one another across the table. Every move appeared to her in slow motion.
It cannot possibly be love, she thought. I barely know him. But you can know someone for ever and not love them, so why can’t the opposite be possible? And the unremitting feeling of weightlessness since he’d admitted to merely liking her was like nothing she had ever felt before.
But he’s not the marrying kind and has said as much from day one.
Remember?
And the whole perfect-husband theory meant you were not to fall for a guy like him. A guy who was self-important, shallow and self-serving.
Remember?
But she could not remember how she could ever have thought those things about Jacob. The man whistling melodiously along with the lovely music was confident, to be sure. But more than that he was protective and generous, kind and considerate. He was also barefoot and cooking up a storm. For her.
The stir-fry sizzled enthusiastically and Jacob jogged back to the kitchen and turned off the stove. He grabbed two dinner plates, onto which he heaped generous portions of the delicious-looking dinner.
‘No more excuses, okay,’ Jacob said.
Holly did her best to compose her features to appear the same as she had looked before her alarming revelation.
‘I have cooked enough of this lip-smacking dinner for the both of us. You have no other dinner plans. You are here already. You are able-bodied enough to grab the bottle of wine and bring it to the table. Put down that heavy briefcase and come give me a hand.’
Okay, Holly thought, knowing something had switched inside of her and she was going to have a hell of a time switching back. Whatever you say.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOLLY finished off the last morsel on her plate. She had long since discarded her suit jacket. But even in just her filmy frilly top, in the fire-lit room she was warm and cosy.
‘That was heavenly,’ Holly said, patting the napkin to the sides of her mouth and then placing it on the table.
‘Hmm. Heavenly,’ Jacob agreed.
Watching Jacob sitting back, his hands clasped across his stomach, a contented smile lighting his lovely face, it was too easy for Holly to let herself believe he was thinking the same thing she was. That it was heavenly enough just to be sitting there together.
‘Where did you learn to cook like that?’
Jacob reached for his wine. His eyes seemed to narrow briefly as he took a determined gulp, but after swallowing the mouthful he answered her. ‘I moved out of home when I was sixteen so if I wanted to eat more than tinned soup and toast I had to learn how to cook.’
‘Sixteen, really? Were you young and rash and ready to take on the world?’
‘It was more that I was determined to become somebody, to make money and keep it, and to never want for anything.’
‘My biggest ambition at that age was to drive my dad crazy by running off to marry Toby Cox, the cutest boy in my class.’
‘I guess some things never change.’
Holly blushed. As the corners of Jacob’s mouth twitched in the hint of a smile she had a glimpse of the dimples, and it was worth every trace of embarrassment.
‘Did your drive come from your parents, do you think?’ she asked. ‘They usually provoke fairly strong responses from kids of that age.’
‘My strong response was that I did not want to end up like them. Well, not like my father, to be more precise.’
‘Tell me more.’ Tell me everything. Holly leaned forward with her chin on her palm, intrigued, and waited until he was ready to go on.
‘By the time I was a teenager, more of his money was going on surreptitious boozing than paying the bills. Once I caught my poor mother searching Dad’s jacket pockets for loose change in order to pay the milkman. And when she died, he barely left the house, and then only to head down to the local pub. So the day after my sixteenth birthday I left.’
‘I had no idea, Jacob. I didn’t mean to pry—’
‘It’s okay. I’ve never hidden my modest beginnings. In fact, it has been fairly well documented. “Poor boy makes good” is always a better headline than “Rich kid is still rich”.’
Holly glanced at Jacob’s half drunk glass of wine. ‘Was he an alcoholic?’
Jacob smiled ruefully at his glass, gently swirling the contents.
‘Possibly. Though I have always thought him more weak-willed than having an addictive personality. Being drunk was an excuse not to make a decision.’
‘And you have based your life around not being like that?’
‘Absolutely. It was the perfect example of failing to take life by the horns. I find no point in being tied down in one project. Take the risk, reap the rewards, and move on to the next venture.’
He sounded so earnest. But to Holly it felt as if he had said this same speech a thousand times in his head. And it broke her heart. She had known a man who had lived by that maxim and all it had done was hurt those who loved him most.
‘And Anabella?’ Holly asked, her voice soft. ‘She’s younger than you?’
Jacob dropped his intense gaze to the table, but not before Holly was certain she saw a wave of guilt pass over his absorbing hazel eyes.
‘She was only twelve at the time. We wrote to each other a bit and she let on she wasn’t happy, but at the time I figured it was more important for me to make money so that later she would be set.’
Jacob absently took a large gulp of wine.
‘A few years later I came home, a man of means and experience, rid of my resentment towards my father. Or so I thought. I walked in to find half of the furniture gone, a pile of ironing covering the couch and Ana practically tied to the sink. She was only four years older but had aged so that I barely recognised her. Her clothes were ragged, and her hair had been chopped short, by her own hand, I later discovered. My bright, beautiful little sister was all but gone, replaced with this listless, miserable creature.’
‘Jacob,’ Holly whispered. She lifted a finger to cover her trembling lips, blinking fast to clear the tears blurring her vision. What have I begun?
Why did I begin? Jacob asked himself.
But he was unable to drag his eyes away from Holly’s compassionate face. When she looked at me with those big blue eyes and asked such a simple question, about cooking, what made me leap into this tale?
It was like leaping off a bridge but all it had taken was for her to ask, and he had leapt. He felt as if he were dangling over the edge and that Holly had control of the only rope that could bring him back to safety. Yet he had complete faith that she would not let go.
And now he had started he knew there was no way he could stop until the whole thing played itself out.
‘Angered beyond thought, and before I even had the chance to hug the poor girl, I forced her to tell me where he was. Down at the local pub, of course. I found him sitting at the bar, a frail shell of the man I had once known. I tossed him the papers to our family home. I had paid off his mortgage. He glanced at the papers, barely registering the fact of them, much less the enormous symbolic gesture of reconciliation I had offered him. I left in disgust, went home, collected Ana and left without a note, knowing that at least now he could wallow in his own self-misery with a roof over his head but without taking Ana down with him.’
‘So you looked after her?’
Jacob nodded.
‘But you were only twenty.’
‘I know, but what choice did we have? So the next few years I was her rock, her whole life, until she managed to get back on her feet.’ I don’t ever want to feel that exposed again. Having someone else depend so entirely on me. It was just so hard.
Holly nodded. And Jacob felt sure it was not just an affectation. She had heard the unsaid words and she understood. ‘What happened to your father?’
Jacob shrugged. ‘He passed away about four years ago.’
‘Before you left for New Orleans?’
Jacob inhaled sharply. She doesn’t miss a beat. ‘That week. After the funeral I made the move.’ Took off, more like it.
‘It all seems to have turned out for the best, don’t you think? You’ve certainly done well for yourself and you and Anabella are on good terms.’
‘But Ana has been spoilt,’ he said. ‘She’s never been interested in holding down a job, and would rather burn her clothes than wash and iron them herself. And that’s my failing.’
Holly had found out what she wanted to know. Her lovely Jacob had exhausted more emotions in the last years of his childhood than most people did in a lifetime. Then in adulthood decided if he had no feelings, they could never consume him.
How could she hope to bring someone back from that sort of pain? She had hardly experienced the kind of rich, fulfilled childhood and stable family that could make it all better for him.
But she would do her best to try.
‘Jacob. Are you kidding me? You helped a child become an adult. Many people never get that chance.’
‘I was clueless.’
‘You were a kid. You can hardly have been expected to know all the answers.’
Jacob shifted in his chair, trying to throw off the strange feeling that had fast crept up on him. He found himself reaching for Holly’s reassurance. And that was exactly what he had just finished telling himself he never wanted to endure again.
He felt that familiar old need to just run and run. But this time he would not look back.
And then Holly took his palm in hers.
‘Listen to me.’
What choice did he have as she stroked the back of his hand? He listened.
‘From what Beth has told me of Ana, she is compassionate and optimistic, serious and spirited. Without her specific blend of life experiences she may not have taken on that formidable combination of traits.’
His hand tingled from the inadvertent patterns she was weaving across his skin. ‘You are probably right.’
‘No probably about it, I am right. I truly believe a person needs highs and lows, comedy and tragedy in order to mature into a valuable, well-rounded personality. I mean, without the sad times how can you really enjoy the happy times? You know how it feels so good after a great big sneeze?’
Jacob was completely caught off guard. The corners of his mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. ‘Sure.’
‘Well, that’s because of the intense discomfort and irritation preceding it. You know how it goes. That first slight tingle that makes your nose twitch, which then grows into that bothersome tickle that builds and builds into an exasperating itch. And then comes the sneeze and when it is released, ahhh, what a wonderful sensation. But that wonderful sensation is only the same non-sensation you had before the tingle even started. Basically the good feeling only exists because of the bad feeling prior to it.’
Jacob’s laughter came more easily. ‘I guess there is some peculiar sense in there somewhere.’
‘Peculiar or not, it’s true. Without understanding of deep sorrow there can be no appreciation of sheer joy.’
Holly patted him companionably on the hand, pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Now, my friend, could you please point the way to the little girls’ room?’
Jacob pointed down the stairs to the doorway next to the kitchen. Holly smiled her thanks and rubbed Jacob’s shoulder as she passed him by, sending a wash of warmth from her lithe fingertips through his tense shoulder.
As she reached the door she turned back for a moment, as though she knew he was studying her, and smiled before disappearing into the room beyond.
A small smile played at Jacob’s lips as he thought of his younger sister and her love of stray animals, her abhorrence of reality television and refusal to cut her long dark hair any shorter than her shoulder blades. Without those traits and without his support through those formative years, she would not be the same Ana.
With a deep, contented sigh, Jacob rose from his seat and cleared the table, whistling softly along with the upbeat jazz music as he did, a spring in his step and a serenity he did not remember ever feeling.
As Holly washed her hands in the bathroom sink she looked into the mirror. Her lipstick was all but gone; only a light burgundy stain remained on her full lips. Her tongue ran over her teeth, once again tasting the honey soy stir-fry Jacob had cooked.
In the corner of the mirror she caught sight of a bath, which was so huge it took up all of one corner of the spacious room. It was certainly large enough to fit Jacob’s tall frame. Easily. As well as that of another person.
Her eyes swung back to the mirror so she faced herself head-on.
‘Holly, get a grip,’ she growled through clenched teeth. ‘And get your briefcase and get out of here before you do something you can’t take back.’ Something worse than just picturing him stripping off and lowering his long, muscular length into a hot bath filled with bubbles …
‘Holly!’ she said aloud, bringing her hands to her face and slapping herself lightly. She had to shake off the growing ardour that mental picture had initiated.
Jacob was a guy who needed time and space. He needed patience and kind words. She felt as though he had made some progress out there tonight and the last thing he needed was some husband-hungry woman leaping into his arms and professing her undying love.
Once free of the bathroom, Holly found herself back in what she assumed was Jacob’s bedroom.
The natural tones and unpretentious feel of the room matched the rest of the home. ‘St John’s ace lithograph’ filled an otherwise blank wall above the bed head and bookshelves ran the length of one wall.
This could be her one and only time there and she could not resist soaking up as much of Jacob’s habitat as possible. She ran her fingers along the smooth, clean horizontal planes of the bookshelves. Amongst the numerous books there sat a few photo frames; most housed pictures of Jacob with a thin brunette woman. Holly ran a finger over the girl’s face, assuming it was Anabella. She had the same dark hair and deep hazel eyes and her smile towards her brother was bursting with love.
And between a pair of stout candleholders and a bunch of unused candles sat a pair of much-used boxing gloves in a glass case.
She stopped short at this last item, staring at the rough, rounded surfaces with their numerous cracks, bruises and stains. Looking closer, she even thought she could make out splatters of dried blood on the knuckle of the right hand. A chill ran down her spine as her mind clouded with a flash of images of how those marks and scrapes would have been achieved. She knew exactly what it took for a pair of well-worn boxing gloves to look like that.
Then she remembered that Jacob was the man who had organised those dangerous boxing bouts for his employees to ‘enjoy’. She found it hard reconciling her memory of the antagonistic, commanding, condescending man of that night with the astute, intriguing, reflective man on the other side of the door.
But they were one and the same.
Jacob, whom Ben and Beth considered a close and worthy friend, who worried for his little sister, and who had unsuspectingly captured Holly’s heart was the same ruthless and unfettered Jacob Lincoln of Lincoln Holdings.
The clink of china from the dining room jolted Holly from her puzzled reverie. Having no idea how long she had been snooping, she decided it was time to leave.
On her way to the door she passed a chest of drawers. Her mind reeling to a conversation she’d had with Beth a few days before, Holly turned back and opened the top drawer. She stared at the contents for a long moment before shutting the drawer quietly.
‘Definitely time to go home,’ she whispered aloud as she walked out of the room.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HOLLY walked into the main room determined to find her host so that she could make her excuses and leave. The table had been cleared and cleaned but there was no sign of Jacob. She moved to the hearth to wait for him to return. Her skin tingled from a mixture of the sizzling heat of the fire and a whole different warmth that had lit her from within since she’d come to realise that she was in love.
She caught sight of something hidden in a shadowy corner, and moved in that direction for a closer look, when the lights in that corner sprang on in a blinding flash.
Holly screamed as she spun around, her eyes searching wildly for Jacob. He was near the front doorway, his hands moving down from a bank of light switches on the wall by his shoulder.
‘Sorry,’ he said as he sauntered towards her. All signs of the reclusive man from dinner had vanished and he was replaced with a Jacob she had not seen before. The approving warmth in his eyes was so unmistakable, for the first time she felt like she was the hunted.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said, his voice low and husky. ‘I knew you were heading to my bag so I thought I’d make it easier for you to have a nose around.’
‘Your bag?’ Holly asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jacob held out his arm motioning her towards the corner. She turned back to see a red punching bag hanging there sedately.
She swallowed hard. It was colossal. Taller than her by half. Thick metallic chains ran from both ends, connecting the bag to large matching steel plates bolted to the floor and ceiling.
Taking the last few steps towards the bag, she reached out tentatively and gave it a slight push. The heavy bag barely moved. She pulled her hand away as thought burnt by the touch, rubbing her fingers together committing to memory the rough, cool feel of the worn leather.
Jacob joined her, his hands on hips and his eyes bright. ‘When I refurbished the place I had the roof and floor reinforced so as to take its weight. Do you want a go?’
He slapped the bag playfully a couple of times. Holly baulked, her pulse quickening in loathing at the thought. She backed away holding up her hands defensively.
‘No, thank you.’
‘Are you sure? It’s great fun.’
‘Sorry. I have no interest in beating up a big red bag that has never done anything to deserve my wrath.’
‘It’s good for releasing tension. And it’s excellent exercise. It’ll work muscles you never knew you had,’ Jacob promised as he jogged up and down with loose fists raised at the big bag.
Holly kept walking backwards, putting herself as far from the bag and Jacob’s flailing fists as possible. ‘If I hadn’t discovered those muscles to date I’m sure I can get through the next fifty years without them.’ She kept her voice light, to stop herself sounding as she felt. Frantic. ‘And aren’t there better ways to release tension than hitting something or someone?’
‘I can think of at least one.’
Holly stopped short. Her eyes flew to Jacob’s and she was all but undone.
He had stopped bouncing around. His feet were shoulder-width apart, and he had steadied the heavy bag in two hands. His dark soft hair was tousled from the exercise and a lock flopped down his forehead. His eyes were bright and his breathing was heavy.
If her mind had not already been conjuring up inappropriate sensual images, she would have taken that as a serious invitation. And what an invitation that could have been. The man before her was so male, so virile it was enough to wrench any woman’s heart. Add to that the ‘nobody can touch my heart’ aura he carried with him like a weight across his broad shoulders and he was an irresistible package.
But the fact that he had long since had Holly’s for the taking meant she was in danger of seeing meaning in his looks and words that were not there. She could almost convince herself she saw her own desire reflected in his bright hazel eyes.
What a picture she makes, Jacob thought. Her blue eyes flashed and her own heavy breathing was more than a match for his. For someone he once thought cool and calm, she was the most emotive woman he had ever met. Every thought and fancy played across her face the second it crossed her mind. And if she wasn’t careful, he would take the three steps over there and make good her very thoughts and fancies.
He had thrown the line out in jest. Sort of. But instead of a raised eyebrow and a haughty stare he had been hit with a look of undisguised passion. A silent submission. And it shocked him to his core.
What would happen if he made good on that throwaway invitation? What an encounter that could be. If only she were that sort of woman.
If only.
His mind had been spinning in that direction all night. Who was he kidding? It had been spinning that way for two weeks. And if that look was anything to go by, her mind had been spinning on a similar track.
But this was not a woman to be toyed with. Ben and Beth’s best friend. He should never have cooked her dinner. She had been right about that from the outset. There was no point. It was too close to home. It would be too complicated.
But, oh, it would be so sweet.
Jacob ran a hand through his hair, took a step away from the bag. Time to wipe that mesmerising look from her lovely face. Time to change the subject.
‘Do you really have such an objection to boxing or are you just claiming the accepted feminine view for my benefit?’