Barbara Hannay - Blind Dates and Other Disasters

‘If you are not simply an A-list party-goer, and have no use for her professional expertise, how do you know my gorgeous young friend here?’ Lydia asked.

‘We’ve only met briefly once or twice …’ Holly mumbled.

‘Mutual friends set us up on a blind date.’ Jacob answered.

The two spoke over the top of each other, with Jacob’s deep, clear voice coming out on top. Holly groaned, wishing she had not felt the need to entertain Lydia with her blind-date disaster stories earlier.

‘Oh, you have to be kidding!’ Lydia jumped up and down on the spot, clapping her hands in glee, her ringlets bobbing up and down, all efforts at sophistication blown. And Holly knew Lydia would sooner not breathe than not comment.

‘Were you the guy with the live-in mother or the one who is planning on keeping Holly with child for the next decade? If he’s the one with the foot odour, Holl, I’d wash this man’s feet morning, noon and night.’

The one with the live-in mother? The one with foot odour? Had Holly been on further blind dates since meeting him? Ben had not mentioned a word of it. True, he had not asked Ben, just assuming the misguided idea would have lost its momentum by now.

But there had been others. And though that meant she was still forging ahead on her mad husband hunt, which he wanted no part of, he found he did not like the thought of her seeing other men one little bit.

‘Come on,’ Lydia repeated, ‘which one were you?’

Holly watched Jacob under lowered eyelashes. Since Lydia’s outburst, a small muscle in his cheek had been clenching and unclenching and his bright eyes were clouded by shadow. He turned an enigmatic smile her way, his stare so focussed it knocked the breath from her lungs.

‘Well,’ he said, his deadpan gaze never leaving her face, ‘I hope I’m the one who spoilt her for all others.’

Holly’s mouth flew open wide, ready to deny the ludicrous statement outright, knowing Lydia would otherwise lap it up.

And then it dawned on her. That was exactly what he had done. On her other dates she had been distracted. When they had picked her up, her mind had wandered to the night in the foggy street. When they had sat down to dinner she’d remembered Jacob in his impeccable suit, wearing those ridiculous yellow galoshes at the greyhound track. When they’d spoken they’d been drowned out by memories of Jacob’s smooth, sonorous voice, rich with charm and that barely there accent.

She had not been looking for problems on her dates, but looking for ways in which those men could measure up to this one. Having experienced his intelligence, wicked sense of humour, and looks so fine they made her knees weak every time she caught him even glancing her way, she was finding it hard to accept less in the other men she met.

But he so clearly did not match her criteria. Too detached, too independent, too … too much. Not like Ben in the least. And Ben was her yardstick when it came to husband material.

‘How was the date, really?’ Lydia said, breaking the silence.

‘It was entirely dreadful.’ Holly said.

‘It was quite promising.’ Jacob said.

And again, his answer came through loud and clear.

‘Promisingly dreadful or dreadfully promising?’ Lydia asked.

Before either could answer, Lydia’s attention was drawn elsewhere. ‘There’s the superb St John. I have to congratulate him on his ace lithographs. I’ll leave you two sweet young things to yourselves, then, shall I?’

Lydia left in a cloud of youthful perfume and floating pink feathers, and once more Holly was alone with Jacob. She knew she should bid him good evening and walk away. The less time spent in his complicated company, the better.

She searched for a way out, someone requiring her professional attention. But she only found the simpering blond gentleman eyeing her like a hawk. She glanced back at Jacob and in a heartbeat knew the blond would be the safer option.

But it was too late. She was drawn into Jacob’s resolute hazel gaze and found herself rooted to the spot. She could not blame her bubbling drink for the hot flush creeping across her bare neck, as she had been drinking nothing bar lemon, lime and bitters with a dash of honey all night.

* * *

Jacob watched in fascination as the faint blush swept across Holly’s delicate shoulders. He felt an unrelenting urge to stroke a cool hand along her neck to feel its warmth. Her face hid nothing of the tumult raging inside her and he was amazed. Amazed at her strong physical reaction to him, though not amazed at how much he enjoyed it.

‘Why did you really come tonight?’ Holly asked, her eyes hiding none of her uncertainty.

Jacob plunged his hands deep into his pockets, knowing from her tone they were safer there than coming anywhere near this volatile vixen.

‘I had an opening in my calendar and the invitation offered free canapés.’ Jacob knew his flippant responses would wear thin, but he had no intention of telling her he had spent so much time thinking about her he was getting little work done.

The truth was he had decided the only fix was to see her again. The fantasy girl he had progressively built in his head over the last couple of days could only be toppled once tempered by the real thing. The bundle of nerves before him.

The husband hunter—who it turned out was infinitely more tempting up close and personal than even her fantasy version.

‘Where can a man get a drink around here?’ He searched the room, saw the small bar, and taking Holly by the elbow, led her to the counter. ‘Another for the lady and the same for me, please.’

‘It’s not champagne,’ Holly said.

‘That’s okay by me. You don’t drink?’

‘Not when I’m working, no.’

He had forgotten for a moment she was working. Foolishly, he had been lulled into feeling as if they were just out for a drink. He and Holly, together.

Mistake.

Holly played with one of her dangly turquoise earrings as she turned to chat to the head beverage waiter, making sure the guests had so far been happy on the drinks front.

Jacob used the quiet moment to focus, to get back to the real reason he had come. The fact that she was on the lookout for a husband was not proving to be a big enough barrier to his temptation any more. So he took a good look at her, with every intention of finding as many faults as it would take to render her unappealing.

Her customary fringe was slicked from a dramatic side parting across her forehead, and hair was drawn into a low heavy bun at her nape, leaving her creamy shoulders bare. He wished she would wear her hair down for once. There, that was a fault. Wasn’t it?

With a critical eye his gaze moved lower, meandering down the delectable curves enhanced by her stunning, sleek, psychedelic dress. The lustrous fabric fell to the top of her feet, thus hiding her lovely legs. She covered them too often. He knew he was stretching to find a fault with that, but a fault it had to be.

And then, as though she sensed the direction of his gaze, Holly’s hand left her earring and ran down her leg to her foot, unconsciously rubbing the insole. Watching, enthralled, Jacob caught a glimpse of a simple gold toe ring on one sandalled foot and it surprised him. A touch of the gypsy amidst her cool glamour. He let out a deep breath, the simple frivolity of that one piece of jewellery promising so much more. So much hidden. So much waiting to be discovered.

Through her entire conversation Holly had been sure Jacob’s eyes had not left her and as such she had barely been able to concentrate on the poor waiter, having to ask him to repeat himself on more than one occasion.

But when she looked up Jacob’s wide eyes were on the waiter, who was dipping a teaspoon in and out of their drinks.