by Robyn Grady
“Middlebury got the treaty through with Senator Tate’s support. Word is, Middlebury’s family has been stung by hacking jobs in Britain. He’s passionate about hauling guilty parties out into the open and bringing them to justice.” Max’s voice lowered. “If they’ve asked you to appear, be sure to take your lawyer.”
Daniel groaned. “And a joyous time was had by all.”
“Don’t joke about it. They’ll pick your brains till they bleed about the fundamentals and specifics of the nebulous art of hacking. Whether you might have any ideas or leads on any likely suspects.”
“I’m not in the business of consorting with people who get their jollies from illegal activity.”
“But you are a world leader in IT. So, any ideas?”
“You mean aside from the obvious?”
“ANS.” Max hissed down the line. “That network’s ethics are questionable, and that’s being kind. If there’s no political dirt around, they’ll rustle up some grist and churn out their own. I can tell you, given Cara’s condition, she’s pleased to be away from all that.”
Daniel remembered their conversation when Max had shared his engagement news. His pregnant fiancée had walked away from her high-pressure position in the White House Press Office to work with her party-planning friends in a PR capacity. This was his in.
“Actually, I met Cara’s friend today,” he said.
“Ariella?”
“Scarlet Anders. I dropped into DC Affairs.”
“You should have called. Cara doesn’t go in every day, but she’d have been happy to show you around. What were you doing there?”
“Being a good best man.”
“You mean looking into organizing stuff? Guess we’ll have to start thinking about cars and suits and those preceremony drinks.”
Sure. Not that he drank. Ever.
“She’s an interesting woman.”
“Scarlet? Cara adores her,” Max confirmed. “Although, between you and me, she can be a little snooty. You won’t catch Scarlet Anders putting a debutante foot out of place. Her parents are pillars of Washington society and their little girl is a carbon copy of her folks. First Lady material, that one.”
Daniel grimaced. A life of unerring duty and plastic smiles? “Maybe she needs someone to show her how to loosen up.”
“That someone being you?”
“I asked her out to dinner. She said no.”
“We’re paying DC Affairs to do a job. Scarlet wouldn’t dream of mixing business with pleasure.”
“I thought she might be involved with someone.”
“Cara and I went out with her and a high-profile suit named Everett Matheson recently. Starchy personality to go with his impeccable pedigree.”
“Is it serious?”
“They were both so concerned about making sure they used the right fork and acknowledged the right people, I couldn’t tell.”
“But no kissing? Holding hands? Rubbing noses?”
“She straightened his tie at one stage.”
Daniel grinned. “You won’t turn me off. You know how I love a challenge.”
“I know how much you like laid-back and that, my friend, is something Scarlet Anders is not. Poised, admired, even snobbish, yes. She’d rather stab herself in the heart than pick her teeth in public.”
Daniel thought about how he loved to shovel popcorn while watching a game. How he abhorred routine and attending functions because it was expected. He recalled how he got off on revving his motorbike to the max down the Great Ocean Road when the urge struck. Then he imagined Scarlet sitting behind him wearing Catwoman leathers, clinging on, arms lashed around his waist with the wind making flying ribbons of her long red hair. At least he guessed that, when it was free, her hair was long. Past her shoulders. Maybe halfway down her back.
He smiled.
Bet it felt like satin.
Daniel pushed to his feet. “Think I’ll ask her out again.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I have a good feeling.”
Max chuckled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Max had to answer another incoming call and the men signed off. Daniel dialed the number for the committee and, putting justice rather than his own aversions first, agreed to come in when requested. Then for the next couple of hours he battled over that other, far more enticing matter.
He’d decided against calling Scarlet. He didn’t like the idea of showing up again unannounced. He’d had an idea earlier. Around three, he had it perfected.
He’d heard Max about the Everett Matheson character being a contender. But Scarlet wasn’t spoken for, and Daniel’s fair and reasonable barometer said, Go for it. She might be playing near impossible to get but she was definitely interested.
After some research on the web, he chose a florist located near Scarlet’s place of business.
“I need some flowers delivered as soon as possible today,” he told the woman who answered the phone. “An added charge is no problem.”
“I’ll deliver them myself,” she assured him. “What kind?”
“They’re called heaven’s trumpets.” To complement an angel. When a silence followed, he prodded. “Something wrong?”
“You’re aware that plant is highly toxic.”
Bending close to his laptop’s screen, he scrolled down, read on. Damn. “I missed that.”
“They are beautiful blooms, distinct perfume—”
“And poisonous.” He couldn’t see Scarlet Anders chewing on a petal, still…not the message he wanted to send.
The woman went on, “Could I suggest something more traditional. Perhaps roses.”
“I don’t do traditional.”
Unless…
As the idea took shape, Daniel explained what he had in mind and, laughing, the woman on the other end of the line assured him that his instructions would be followed to a T. When details for the bouquet were set, he gave his name and credit card details as well as Scarlet’s name and address.
The woman coughed as if she’d lost her breath. His jaw shifted. “You okay?”
With a smile in her vaguely familiar voice, the woman replied, “Mr. McNeal, I’m positively floating.”
Three
When Ariella stopped shaking and had gathered herself enough to be on her way—taking with her the paper that confirmed she was, indeed, the president’s daughter—Scarlet traveled back to work.
On the road, her mind kept wheeling back over the fact that Ted Morrow would have received the positive results by now, too. Scarlet pitied Ariella the media attention that would multiply tenfold now, particularly from the hyenas at ANS who had first broken the paternity scandal wide open. Hopefully some good would come from all this, though. A father and his daughter being reunited for one. And maybe the story wouldn’t end there….
The president was a bachelor. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, after all these years, Ted Morrow and Ariella’s mother were not only reintroduced but married? What an amazing ceremony that would be. And, after a lifetime of separation, Ariella would have her biological family back again.
For the rest of the afternoon, Scarlet was kept busy with inquiries as well as putting the finishing touches to a client’s big day to be held at the Washington National Cathedral. Girls dreamed of one day walking down the aisle of that gothic-inspired masterpiece. The famed Canterbury Cathedral had supplied the stone from which the pulpit was carved. Memorials to persons and events of national significance were on display, including statues of presidents Washington and Lincoln. Seals were embedded in the narthex’s marble floor and the nave was lined with state flags.
Heading into her office, Scarlet smiled.
Only in D.C.
But before any bride and groom could consider the National Cathedral as a venue, at least one of three strict requirements must be met, which Everett’s family did. The bride or groom could have an alumnus connection with a cathedral school. The bride or groom or immediate family member could be
employed by the cathedral. Or the bride, groom or immediate family member might be a prominent donor or significant volunteer. Apparently Everett and his parents donated regularly and extremely well when the plate was passed around.. He’d even mentioned the night before, after the proposal, about submitting a request for him and Scarlet to be married there. At the time Scarlet had thought not of herself but of her parents; how ridiculously proud they would be. Then she’d imagined her mother poring over the arrangements, particularly the highly prized invitations list. Faith Anders would want to include everyone who mattered. Everett’s parents would feel the same way.
Given her parents’ social standing, Scarlet had always known that her own special day would be big, with every convention not only followed but prominently displayed. She’d organized enough of those weddings to know they could be exhausting for the bride. But then anything worthwhile usually was.
As Scarlet packed up for the day, her thoughts wandered more. What kind of a wedding would Daniel McNeal want? Something casual. Even zany, perhaps. Certainly nothing that would suit her needs or taste. Anyway, Mr. McNeal didn’t strike her as the marrying kind.
About to head out, she stopped to catch a private call on her cell.
“Ariella rang,” Cara Cranshaw began. “She left a message. I only got ahold of her now. She told me the results.”
“I wonder when the paparazzi will get wind of the news. No offense.”
“Believe me, Max doesn’t like the way this was handled by the press any more than we do.”
Max Grayson had been a reporter before switching to an off-camera role.
“How was Ariella when she left you?” Cara asked.
“Resigned to the fact that nothing will ever be the same.” Scarlet closed her office door behind her.
“I asked her over. I figured she might need some company but she said she’d rather be alone tonight.”
Scarlet had thought about offering her friend company, as well. “I’ll text and say we’re here if she needs us.”
“What are you doing tonight?” Cara asked. “I’m staying at Max’s place, but he’s working until late. Your man’s out of town for a few days, isn’t he?”
Moving toward the front reception area, Scarlet’s thoughts skidded to a halt. By “your man,” Cara had meant Everett, but for some crazy reason Daniel McNeal’s face had flashed in her mind. As if he were standing before her now, with that crooked grin and sexy dark blond bed-hair, awareness rippled through her, making every one of her extremities tingle.
Totally inappropriate.
Back straight, she continued on her way, picking up the thread of the conversation.
“One of Everett’s New York clients needed some figures evaluated.”
“Why don’t you come over, then?” Cara said. “We can dabble with details for the reception. I’m still torn about a color scheme.”
Scarlet hesitated. Now that Ariella didn’t want company tonight, she’d half thought about forgetting the outside world for a while and chilling out with a glass of wine. But she adored Cara’s company. And aside from the fun of discussing her friend’s wedding, she did have her own bit of news to share.
Or should she wait for the ring to be on her finger? For Everett to return from New York… There really wasn’t any rush.
“Sure.” Scarlet breezed through the foyer. Although Cara and Max as good as lived together now, Cara had kept her great loft apartment so Scarlet hadn’t needed to visit Max’s penthouse yet, but she knew the address from the Cranshaw-Grayson Wedding file. “See you in an hour.”
Lee, their effervescent receptionist, had already left for the day. But halfway to the door, something on the front counter caught Scarlet’s eye and dragged her all the way back. A dozen roses—a mix of yellow, coral and peach—sat perfectly arranged in a round glass bowl. Inhaling, Scarlet sighed at their exquisite perfume. Her fingertips brushed the velvet-soft petals. But the best part—the thing that set this bouquet above any other—was the highly original add-in. Perched atop an artificial stem sat a toy animal. A marsupial to be exact.
A boxing kangaroo dressed in a tuxedo and a big black bow tie.
* * *
At home, Scarlet ran a deep bubble bath and put on a favorite classical CD. While she soaked, she reconsidered Ariella’s situation, then dwelled again on the thousand and one details relating to the cathedral wedding they were planning. But her thoughts kept swerving back to Daniel McNeal, his kangaroo-topped bouquet and the way he’d caught her in his arms when that fateful misstep had sent her toppling off her ladder.
Sinking lower in the scented suds, she recalled how his blue gaze had burned, leaving her lips feeling scorched and her equilibrium in tatters. She’d been attracted to men before but never in this quivery, syrupy way that left her short of breath and, for the first time in her life, reassessing who she was. Even doubting what she wanted.
Was this sudden irrational attraction a common enough case of cold feet?
As far as Scarlet was concerned, aside from having children, getting married was the most important event of a person’s life. Being a little anxious was only natural even though she’d known Everett for over a year. On all fronts they got on well. Most importantly, she loved him. Not dizzy, cry-myself-to-sleep-over-you love but rather an appropriate, stable kind of affection. Which was a far cry from her intense schoolgirl reaction to Daniel.
What was love—a sound marriage—based on, anyway? Respect and support of mutual goals. Not wild, lust-driven emotions for someone who was so obviously her opposite. Daniel exuded a blistering energy that would likely set off fireworks in any woman’s central nervous system. He was insanely handsome, charismatic and confident. From what she’d seen of it, his tall, toned physique was exceptional. His personality was cheeky. Intriguing.
Like his see-all blue eyes.
Out of the tub and drying off, Scarlet crossed into her bedroom’s walk-in closet. Her fingers skimmed business skirts and after-five dresses. When she paused at a pair of jeans, she remembered the way the denim had hugged Daniel’s muscled thighs today and a breath fluttered in her throat. She didn’t often wear jeans. Cruisy Daniel McNeal might suggest she didn’t wear them often enough. But she wasn’t dressing for him tonight. Or any other night, for that matter.
Before pulling on a light angora sweater and black tailored pants, she called a cab and pulled a bottle of Chablis from the fridge. Because of her condition, Cara wouldn’t drink but Scarlet could go one or two herself tonight.
Scarlet soon arrived at Max Grayson’s address. Her friend answered the door to the penthouse with a welcoming smile.
“Come on in,” Cara said, stepping aside. “I was about to call you.”
“I’m a little late. I indulged in a lovely long bath….”
Stepping over the threshold, Scarlet’s words trailed off. A voice was filtering out from the living room into the foyer. A man’s voice. Deep. Rumbling. She frowned.
Cara had said Max would be working late.
Then another male voice replied to the first and Scarlet’s heart leaped to her instantly clogged throat. That accent was unmistakable. What was he doing here? This was supposed to be a quiet girls’ night in, not a foursome, and certainly not with Daniel McNeal.
What would she say if he mentioned those flowers? Worse, how would she react if he smiled at her that certain unsettling way? She’d bet her town house he’d find an excuse to prowl into her off-limits personal space.
Scarlet took a shaky step back.
She had to go.
“You said Max was working late.”
“He surprised me.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
Laughing softly, Cara urged her friend forward. “You’re not interrupting, silly. In fact, there’s someone here we’d like you to meet.”
Scarlet’s thoughts and stomach lurched. She needed an excuse. Needed to get out of here fast. But Cara had a hold of her arm now and, with each doubtful step, those
voices grew louder, clearer. A series of internal brushfires ignited, pumping forbidden heat through her veins, leaving her feeling flushed and all the more flustered. Then she and Cara stood beneath an arch that led into the living room and two pair of eyes glanced their way.
She was vaguely aware of Max’s smile, his standing to greet her and saying hello. She was a thousand times more attuned to the presence of that other man. As Daniel’s lidded gaze embraced hers, she was consumed by sensations that were so powerful and bright she felt as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.
Cara introduced her. “Daniel McNeal, I’d like you to meet a dear friend, Scarlet Anders.”
With a knowing grin, Daniel languidly pushed to his feet. “We’ve met.”
“You have?” Blinking, Cara’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them. “Where? When? You’ve only been in town a day.”
In her daze, Scarlet recognized that Daniel had swapped jeans for custom-made dark trousers and a crisp white shirt. As he strolled over, his polished lace-ups gleamed in the track lighting and a gold cuff link flashed as he extended a big bronzed hand. Without thinking, she accepted the gesture and that lightning bolt struck again, zapping and sizzling up her arm until, with a starburst, it hit her chest as well as a little south of her navel. It didn’t help when his fingers wrapped around hers and squeezed just a little like they had earlier that day.
“We met this morning,” he said, then proceeded to fill his audience in on how he’d shown up at DC Affairs and saved her from that stepladder fall.
“Thank God you were there,” Cara said while Scarlet pried her gaze away from Daniel’s to concentrate on the fact that he still held her hand. Bringing herself back to the conversation, she gently pulled her hand away.
“I’ve already thanked Mr. McNeal for his help.”
“Mr. McNeal?” Cara pulled a wry face. “You’re not at the office now. Let me take that bottle of wine. Max, can you pour Scarlet a drink? Something with bubbles to celebrate friends coming together.”
Scarlet’s attention skirted around Daniel’s frame. Max was headed for the bar, but he looked quizzically over his shoulder at his two guests, as if he knew something he shouldn’t. Had Daniel already confided in his friend the fact that they’d met? That he’d asked her out to dinner? If that were the case, surely Max would have mentioned she was dating someone….
