Midnight Wedding

‘And you wish I hadn’t?’ he persisted.

She tilted her chin. ‘I run my own life, right? If you hadn’t come along, I would have dealt with Brendan.’

‘It looked like it,’ he said drily.

‘I’ve done it before.’

He looked sceptical. ‘Successfully?’

Holly shifted. She was too innately honest to claim success in her dealings with Brendan Sugrue. She was all too aware that her strategy consisted mainly of running away whenever Brendan appeared over the horizon. But she was not willing to admit it to this masterful stranger.

Jack saw her hesitation and pressed home his advantage. ‘So if he turns up here tonight, you don’t need my help?’

‘Tonight?’

In spite of her brave words, Holly flinched at the thought. She could not help it. She looked nervously at the staircase from the entrance.

‘That was a nasty incident this afternoon,’ Jack said more gently. ‘Don’t beat up on yourself. Most people can’t handle physical threats.’

Holly gave him a long look. ‘But you can?’

‘I’ve had a lot of practice.’

‘And that’s supposed to reassure me?’

He was taken aback for a moment. She saw it in his eyes and felt a small glow of achievement.

Then he said, ‘Are you telling me you don’t need me on your side?’

All the lovely triumph drained away, exposing her weakness with horrible clarity. Remembering Brendan’s ugly expression, Holly had a moment of pure fear.

At Jack’s elbow, Ramon murmured a protest. Neither of them paid any attention to him.

Jack’s face was hard. ‘Tell me you don’t need me and I’ll go.’

There was a sudden, odd silence. Their eyes locked. Holly felt stunned but had no idea why. She was as out of breath as if she had been running.

Jack’s eyes flared, then narrowed to slits. She had the oddest feeling that he was even more startled than she was. Startled and not at all pleased.

She did not understand any of it. But she was certainly not going to say that she needed Gorgeous Jack Armour. Not for anything. Not ever.

Sidestepping the issue neatly, she said, ‘You really think he’ll come here tonight?’

Jack shrugged. ‘If I found you, he can.’

She looked round the room. It was filling up but there was no one who looked like Brendan. Though she saw now that Gilbert was waving imperatively from the kitchen doorway.

‘I’ve got to get on with my work,’ said Holly, distracted.

‘I don’t hound women. Tell me to go and I will.’

Their eyes clashed. Locked.

Holly tore her gaze away and sought desperately for something to get her off the hook. She spied the bottle on their table.

‘You don’t have to go. You’re a paying customer.’ She began to back away. ‘Finish your wine.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Jack. He had not moved a step but she felt as if he was pursuing her like her own personal Fate. ‘I’m not here for the wine and you know it.’

Holly met his eyes straight on. ‘So what are you here for?’ She flung it at him like a challenge. ‘Me?’

His eyes flickered.

‘And you say you don’t hound women?’

The sexy mouth thinned to a fierce line. He said harshly, ‘I stopped a nasty piece of bullying this afternoon.’

‘That doesn’t give you any rights—’

‘Maybe not. But it gives me some unfinished business.’

Holly was taken aback. She lost hold of her protective fury in sheer bewilderment. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Mr Sugrue told me not to get in his way again,’ Jack said thoughtfully.

For a moment Holly did not understand. Then, ‘And that means you have to do whatever he told you not to? Was it some sort of challenge? You can’t leave it alone?’

There was a tiny pause. ‘Something like that.’

She shivered. ‘I shall never understand men.’

He shrugged. ‘Let’s just say, I decided to stay on the case. But it’s your case.’ His eyes were intent. ‘If you don’t want me to, I’m gone.’

The silence demanded an answer.

Cornered, resentful, Holly was forced into honesty. ‘No. Don’t go.’ It sounded as if it was dragged out of her.

‘Holly,’ bawled Gilbert.

‘I’ve got to go…’

Jack said pleasantly, ‘No problem,’ and sat down quite as if she had begged him to stay and he had graciously acceded.

Holly could have screamed.

But Gilbert was becoming too urgent to ignore. With a last look of frustration at Jack, she threaded a quick path through the tables.

‘Take your apron off,’ said Gilbert, too preoccupied to be angry. ‘Tobacco are going to be late and Jerry is finishing now. Get your flute.’