Hen Party 1 (Hen Party #1) Read online

  He glanced around to find Elin’s guest again. Despite his self-discipline, the temptation to gaze at the beautiful brunette was eating him up inside.

  Now she was encircled by a group of boozy guys and peering up at the bank of satellite television sets mounted on the wall. She chatted to the young bucks nearest her as her gaze flickered from the horse races to the football games on the screens. He was intensely curious, but curbed his impulses. He was not going to move closer so he could hear what she was saying.

  She pointed up at the rugby player who was about to kick the ball for goal and convert a try. When she succeeded in diverting the male attention from her body to the game on the television, she wedged her shoulder into a gap between the guys and opened it wide enough to slither out of the circle.

  “Scored,” a buck cheered, and the fellas high-fived each other.

  Jovanni scrubbed a hand over his face as another chuckle left his mouth. She was a smart woman. The men were underestimating her intelligence and overestimating her interest in them.

  “Mate, is the scotch on ice for you?”

  Jovanni shifted his attention to the grungy-haired waiter who stood at the side of the table. “That’s right.”

  “Sorry about the delay, the blokes are real thirsty tonight. They’re pumping the beer well dry.” The waiter rested the amber drink on a coaster.

  Jovanni wet his lips. Wouldn’t have something to do with the girls firing up libidos, would it? “So I’ve noticed. No problems here. I’m taking it as it comes tonight.” His lack of control over the situation was driving him bonkers, but he was short on choices.

  “The cook made you some bar snacks to tide you over between drinks.” The waiter placed a basket of food with a paper liner on the table.

  “Much appreciated,” Jovanni said, eyeing the food. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” The waiter strode back to the bar.

  Jovanni helped himself to the chicken leg, but as he munched and drank his whiskey, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from running away. He ate the small pie and sausage roll, and then dusted the crumbs from his hands with the napkin.

  He tried to resist, but the brunette was stealing his attention completely as she stepped closer to the lounge door, and was held up again. A guy was down on the floor, and there was no walking space around him except at his feet. Jovanni strained to see through the narrow gaps between the on-lookers to find out what was going on.

  The fella had his arms stretched out behind his body, and his hands were planted on the floor. He sat with his legs spread wide open. Jovanni crammed a spring roll into his mouth to muffle his shocked exclamation as the man rocked his hips wildly.

  Jovanni frowned. How did the desperado think he would keep a woman’s interest with a blatant display of thrusting? He might just get to see her scamper in the opposite direction. He suspected some of these fellas had been drinking since they knocked off work hours ago, and their heads were full of alcohol and lacking good sense.

  With her hands covering her face, the woman peered between her fingers at the frantic guy.

  Jovanni drank more whiskey. He might have to step in and stop the rutting buck so she could pass. Before he put his glass down on the coaster, she spoke, and the boisterous laughter in the bar died down.

  “Are you busting out some moves from the Magic Mike movie?” she asked, her face flustered and red. “I can’t tell whether you’re trying for regular or XXL.”

  “Hop on, I’ll give you whatever ride you want,” the guy on the floor said.

  “Your boss is looking forward to seeing you on Monday morning.” She draped a hand over the top of his rumpled hair. “Don’t give up your day job. Excuse me, Mike.” She pressed her hand down on his head for support as she stepped into the gap between his thighs. Her shoes clattered over the floor as she launched into the space at his feet. Six steps out, and she raced toward the lounge door.

  The bucks started a chorus of catcalls.

  “Come back, chook!”

  “We were having fun!”

  “It was just a joke. Don’t you know how to have a good time?”

  Using her handbag she swatted her way through the crowd and rushed on.

  “Hey doll, I’m missing you already,” a middle-aged man in a suit shouted.

  “Don’t leave us. Take off your clothes,” a young buck said, stepping over the line of decency.

  Her beautiful face lost its glow.

  Jovanni shuddered and was up and out of his seat. He forced his way through the mob to reach her with the intention of buffering her against the louts, and escorting her into the lounge.

  She reached the door without his help, yet she hesitated to turn the handle and exit the bar. Escape was within her grasp but she didn’t take it. Instead, she swiveled her head and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered like brittle jewels as she looked around the room. Then the flash of light in her eyes morphed into a killer-stare that she raked over the mob.

  His breath jammed in his throat as she looked his way. Time slowed to a sluggish creep.

  Her eyes found his.

  He was skewered on the spot by her impassioned gaze. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The longing to meet a woman who could touch the coldness inside him and not get frostbite didn’t seem like such a crazy idea now. Desire flared. Prickly heat spread through his body.

  He wanted to know all about this fiery woman, personally and intimately. His excitement grew around the possibilities the evening held. He would lose the boozy crowd and find her again inside the lounge at Elin’s hen party.

  She shifted her gaze to the guy standing beside Jovanni. He took a much needed breath, but it didn’t stop his head from spinning. Had he found one of the women he was looking for?

  He slipped his sweaty palm inside his trouser pocket to retrieve his phone. He tapped his finger against the screen until he found the head shot of the western Sales and Marketing Manager that he’d copied from the promo material on the Smallgoods website.

  He held up the phone to compare the photograph with the indignant beauty standing at the door. Both women had long wavy brown hair and attractive faces with personality. He compared their features more carefully until he had no doubts about the physical resemblance they shared. They were one and the same person—Kyra Jamieson, the chief bridesmaid with the smarts and sass.

  His heart banged against his ribs. She was special. He knew there was more to the attraction than merely laying gratified eyes on her for the first time, and…wow, was he rocked to the core.

  Kyra opened her mouth to speak. “Learn some respect for women,” she blasted at the mob, “or spend the rest of your lives wanking.” She opened the door and disappeared inside the ladies lounge.

  A chorus of wolf-whistles deafened his ears.

  Jovanni blew air out through his mouth from the impact of her stormy departure.

  “That’s one hot chick. I need a cold shower,” a young buck muttered.

  None of the louts had a chance of getting close to her. Respect wasn’t a word Jovanni stumbled over when it came to women. He knew very well that females brought a different perspective to business, he’d read it in black and white in Kyra’s monthly reports.

  He also understood the role of a woman in a family. His Mamma was the boss, no argument there. His parents’ marriage was successful in the boardroom and in the home. That’s what he’d always wanted for himself, a partnership with a woman he loved and to be able to provide a new generation of leadership for Tisci Smallgoods.

  The Gina affair was his biggest failure to date. Marco’s western operation was coming in a close second. Kyra…Thinking of her brought back his smile.

  “We should go after her and party hard,” the young buck yelled.

  The louts raised their beer glasses and cheered.

  Jovanni strode to the bar where he flagged down a waiter and asked to speak to the manager. He was going to organize some big guys to guard the lounge door and keep the des
peradoes out of the hen party.

  Chapter Two

  Kyra plastered her shaking body against the lounge wall. What had she just said to the sleaze bags next door? She covered her mouth with her hand. Wanking? Why oh why did she say that? Her cheeks burnt with mortification. Like a fire-belching shrew, she’d lost her temper at the guy’s baiting, having never learned how to deal with male bullying in a dignified way. The boy’s club culture at work had taught her to fight for survival instead of how to rise above the grubby behavior with an appropriate choice of words and actions.

  She had a quick look around the lounge to see if anybody had noticed her abrupt arrival. None of the other guests spared her a glance or looked like they’d made it through an obstacle course charged with testosterone.

  She clutched her handbag to her chest, her blood still pounding in her ears. Her energy was scattered, and her emotions were all over the place. She had to go the ladies’ room and recover from her humiliating start to the evening before she caught up with Elin.

  Kyra found the sign to her left and took off. Inside the white-tiled room, she headed to the vanity counter and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Yep, just as she’d expected to see—red face to match her dress and shoes. No, the tip of her nose was shiny pink. She snatched the compact out of her handbag and dabbed fresh powder over her face.

  She felt awful, stressed and hot. The muscles in her shoulders were tight. She pressed her palms down on the sink top and closed her eyes. In that moment, she hated herself for not being able to walk through a pub without causing trouble for herself with a throng of extreme guys. Still, she wasn’t going to stay cowering in the toilets with her battered confidence for company.

  Her hard-working Mum and Gran hadn’t raised her to be a doormat. If the Henriettas discovered her moping about, she would become the brunt of their catty jokes.

  Hello, party time!

  Her shoulders relaxed, and some of the tension loosened. She used her fingers to re-arrange the curls at the side of her face and applied a fresh coat of lipstick and mascara. There, she was almost as good as new, except her eyes were murky from the encounters in the front bar. She gathered up the cosmetics and stuffed them back inside her handbag.

  Soldier-on was all she could think to do. Resilience had enabled her Gran to get through life on the farm after losing her husband to a fencing accident. Kyra’s situation wasn’t as drastic as her Gran’s, nor her Mum’s divorce, so she could rustle up the strength to carry on.

  Fixing a smile of optimism on her face to celebrate her bestie’s happiness, she opened the door and returned to the lounge.

  She needed a drink to moisten her dry throat. She walked toward the bar, determined to ignore her personal issues and not let the hockey chicks stop her from enjoying this special night with her dear friend.

  Her shoes tapped over the timber floorboards and drew the eyes of the guests, but none of them were particularly friendly. She gave a limp-wristed wave and immediately regretted it as the other women ran scathing glances over her appearance from top to toe.

  It wasn’t her classy shoes or whimsical party dress they didn’t like. It was her.

  Too bad.

  She liked the floaty swirl of the chiffon around her legs as she walked.

  Eat me.

  The Henriettas would if they could, and then spit her out as gristle. They were jealous of Kyra’s long friendship with Elin and wanted the team captain’s attention all to themselves.

  Not this evening.

  “We’re all friends tonight,” she said to no one in particular.

  Sarcastic chuckles greeted her.

  A strangled laugh rose up her throat. Walking on, she kept her eyes fixed on the wall of windows and held onto the fragile peace like a swimmer in choppy seas clutching a lifeline. Her differences with the Henriettas were not going to get in the way of Elin’s fun.

  She placed her handbag on the bar counter to order a drink. Yep, it sounded like a good idea to start the celebration, but how long could she last? Her groan of submission was telling. She gazed at a small chalkboard that advertised party cocktails, and there was one in large writing she couldn’t miss.

  “I’ll have a Henrietta special, please,” she said to the cool-looking waiter. His fringe was sculptured into a high wave across the top of his head.

  “Ah, yes, I haven’t stopped mixing the fav drink of the Henrietta Hockey Team since I opened up.” He grinned innocently as he placed the rum beverage on the speckled black and white bench top in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured and wondered if his innocence would fall victim to the Henriettas by the night’s end.

  She glanced around at Elin’s girlfriends, who had a reputation for drinking too much alcohol and then misbehaving like the female equivalent of ‘boys will be boys’. They’d found the right hotel for their night of entertainment. So help her if the party spilled into the front bar.

  Kyra walked across the lounge to find a secluded spot by the wall where she could survey the crowd and find the bride-to-be.

  Maddy, the fullback of the hockey team, caught Kyra’s eye. The sulky look on the plus-sized brunette’s face confirmed she was still miffed at not being chosen as one of Elin’s bridesmaids. Kyra braced her back against the wall as the agent-provocateur strolled over.

  With a sly grin on her face, Maddy said, “Hello Ka-Ka.”

  Kyra cringed, hating the nick-name that sounded like a baby’s unintelligent babble. “Hi Mad Maddy,” she teased back.

  “Are you enjoying the company of your friends?” Maddy stretched her baggy green dress over her heavy hips. “Staring at the walls is a knock-out party-starter.”

  Maddy’s confrontational attitude wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it did come early in the night. Kyra wasn’t going to take the bait and get antsy with the fullback. She sipped her creamy drink packed with crushed ice as she looked around the lounge to script her comeback.

  The rectangular room had the bar at one short end and the dance floor at the other. The light grey tint on the walls and the white table linen made the room look elegant. The eggplant-colored drapes hanging on the windows added warmth to the light and airy atmosphere.

  There was one main wall with a paneled door that opened into the sportsman’s bar she’d walked through moments earlier. On the opposite wall, there were French doors and windows with views to the garden restaurant.

  “The clusters of pearl and silver balloons give the lounge a touch of festivity. It’s a tasteful setting for Elin’s get-together with all of her friends.” Kyra looked to the blond bride-to-be she’d known since high school. Elin was talking non-stop to Giselle, who went by the nick-name Gaza. She had a string-bean physique but was also a remarkable hockey player. She covered the turf with speed thanks to her long legs, and blocked out the goal posts with her height.

  “Good on you,” Maddy pouted.

  “Cheers,” she said, ignoring the gibe. “I’m going over to say hi to Elin.” She started to walk away, but Maddy put a hand on her arm to stop her.

  “I haven’t finished our catch-up,” Maddy said, doggedly.

  “What do we need to talk about?” Kyra asked. It wasn’t as though they were close friends with news to share. Their paths only crossed at Elin’s hockey games and the occasional social event.

  “It will keep for a bit.” Maddy’s eyes lit up with some other kind of mischief.

  Kyra fiddled with the folds of her dress before instinct kicked in to get away fast and she hurried over to her bestie.

  “Kyra, you’re here,” Elin said brightly.

  Kyra embraced her friend and kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, chick.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”

  “The taxi was late, and my Gran wanted to come to the party with me. I had to convince her to stay home and watch a movie instead,” Kyra said with a smile.

  Elin laughed. “You could have brought Mrs. Trixie Bolo with you. Is that the name she’s
still going by?”

  Kyra nodded with mirth. “The name is sticking until she finds one she likes better from the daytime television soaps.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded if Trixie had joined us. How is her relationship going with Mr. Mop Head?”

  Kyra bowed her head at the reminder of her Gran’s vigilante footpath patrols with her cleaning mop. She was bored out of her brain with old lady pastimes so she made her own fun. “I’d say steady,” Kyra said. “She’s still swinging Mr. Mop Head at any suspicious characters that appear on our street. So far this year, there have been no home invasions, property damage or cars stolen.”

  “Please thank Trixie for the lemon cheesecakes she made. We collected thousands of dollars from the Saturday cake stalls and sausage sizzles outside the Portland supermarket. It’s going to be everyone’s party tonight.” With a warm smile, she looked at her hockey friends. “All the drinks are free, and Maddy has organized non-stop entertainment for us. Marco donated some food from the warehouse. We’re all set to blow out the night.”

  “Fantastic, I can’t wait to celebrate with you.” Kyra gave Elin another hug. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride.”

  “Don’t make me cry.” Elin wiped a hand across her eyes.

  “What is Marco doing tonight? Is he having a Buck’s night?” Gaza asked.

  “Yep, he’s catching up with his friends for drinks,” Elin said.

  Maddy strolled over and leaned into Kyra, talking low. “Let’s continue our little chat.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” Kyra said to Elin as Maddy led her away from the bride-to-be to the windows in front of the garden restaurant. Kyra stared at the outdoor table settings. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Now you’re here, we’re going to whoop it up with the sin and sizzle Elin asked me for,” Maddy said.