Ally Blake - The Wedding Wish

Bothered beyond good sense, she mustered her haughtiest attitude. ‘No matter what Ben told you, and not that it matters what you think, I am no princess.’

Jacob laughed, his head thrown back as he let out great effusive guffaws. Holly was shocked into momentary silence.

‘You heard that?’ Jacob finally asked, his eyes sparkling in merriment.

‘Loud and clear. And I think that was extremely wrong of Ben and rude of you to even joke about such a thing.’

‘Are you done?’

She looked up, surprised at his short tone.

‘Well, yes, I thought that quite about covered it—’

Jacob leant over and placed a light kiss on her open mouth, succeeding in shutting her up. His hands remained in his pockets and her hands held her gloves in front of her at chest height. And since his toes were a couple of feet from hers, the only points of contact were their four, warm, amenable lips.

It took the merest moment for the unexpected tenderness of his kiss to wash its magic over her. On impulse Holly closed her eyes and tilted her head only ever so slightly. But it was enough.

Jacob took her hint and he leant that little bit closer to explore the warmth and thrill as unexpected yearning lit between them. And what started as little more than an overly friendly goodnight peck deepened into something very different. It was delicate. It was yielding. It was lovely.

After enjoying a few moments of unchecked ardour, they pulled apart.

Holly rocked back on her heels; luckily the car was there to catch her as she swayed. Her tongue ran over the back of her teeth and she could taste after dinner mints. She rocked forward as she opened her eyes and sighed, unconsciously biting her lower lip.

The adorable dimples reappeared on Jacob’s smooth cheeks as he smiled. ‘I think now it’s time to go our separate ways. You and I have already created far too many inconsistent memories for one night.’

‘Goodnight, Jacob,’ Holly whispered, not trusting her husky voice.

‘Goodnight, Holly,’ he said, but his eyes were saying anything but. He let out a ragged breath, shook his head and turned away.

Holly dragged in a deep breath, revelling in the sweet smell of recent rain that wafted towards her on the light night breeze.

She opened her car door but turned quickly when she saw him coming back up the rise. She leant back on her car, holding her breath waiting to see what he would surprise her with next.

‘I have to say this,’ he declared, his face obscured by the darkness. ‘You are an intriguing, vibrant and beautiful woman, Holly. Know your own worth.’

And then he turned and disappeared into the foggy night.

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.

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