by Robyn Grady
With a disciplined gesture, she indicated the door. “Mr. McNeal was just leaving.”
“That I was. We’ll talk soon,” he advised Scarlet before turning to Katie and saying, “Try to convince her to have dinner with me, will you?”
With a wink, he strolled out the door. Scarlet thought she heard him whistling while Katie shook her blond mane and rubbed her brow.
“I’m confused,” Katie said. “He asked you on a date?”
“He was joking.”
“He was dead serious. Which is fantastic because, let’s face it, that guy is grade-A gorgeous. And charming. And melt-your-bones sexy—”
Rolling her eyes, Scarlet moved off. “Katie, please.”
“Believe me, that guy is into you. And, if you don’t mind me saying, it looks like the feeling is mutual. If I hadn’t walked in, I bet you’d be kissing him now.”
“No, I would not.” Rearranging flowers near the base of the arch, she mumbled an admission. “I’d already decided against it.”
“I knew it!”
Restless, Scarlet moved to the stepladder. “You also know I’m in a relationship with a man any woman would be proud to call her own.”
“Truthfully, Scarlet? From what I’ve seen, Everett Matheson III doesn’t light any of my fires.”
“Everett and I are well suited. He’s predictable. Upstanding. Well-educated—”
“You forgot boring,” Katie muttered.
“He has a strong work ethic. He’ll make a responsible husband and father.”
“But are you in love? Do you shiver with longing every time you think of him?”
Scarlet’s stomach muscles kicked. She didn’t float around on a cushion of clouds for any reason, including a man. Filling her lungs, she lifted the stepladder and let the legs snap shut.
“I was brought up to respect myself, which means not falling head over silly heels with the first charmer who throws a line my way.” Scarlet took her ladder and headed for the storage closet to put it away. “I’m not that kind and you know it.”
Sticking both hands in her apron’s front pocket, Katie sighed like it was the end of the world. “After Cara and Max’s big announcement, bet Everett will ask you soon, too.”
“He already has. Last night.” She set the ladder down in the storage closet and shut the door. “He hired a horse-drawn carriage. French champagne and crystal flutes were waiting in an ice bucket on the seat. After he proposed, he went through all the reasons we made such a good match. The ring’s a family heirloom. It did hang on my finger a little. We need to have it resized.”
The eight-carat hand-cut ruby set in a circle of diamonds made an exquisite engagement ring. She hated to think of the insurance he’d need to even take it out of the safety deposit box. When he’d mentioned having a replica made for everyday use, she’d laughed. Everett had a sharp wit sometimes.
Katie mumbled, “I should say congratulations—”
“Thank you.”
“—but I’ll also say you don’t have to go through with it. No invitations have been sent. No venues booked…”
“You’re a good friend—” Scarlet walked past the florist and her pleading gaze “—but I really don’t need this.”
At the samples table, Scarlet got busy laying violet, cream and royal-blue swatches in an arc while Katie made half an effort to change the subject.
“Who was that Adonis, anyway?” she asked. “I know the face. Is he some new whiz kid on the political scene?”
“He owns Waves.”
Katie held her cheeks. “Of course! While I was getting my hair done at Silvo’s last week, I skimmed an article about that site’s meteoric rise. Interesting stuff. The color shots of the CEO were even better. The article ended by saying he might pose nude for a calendar to support a charity he’s behind.”
Arranging a choice of table gifts for her soon-to-arrive client, Scarlet refused to acknowledge the heat flaring in her chest…at the tips of her breasts. But she couldn’t shake the image of Daniel McNeal sans clothes. Below his folded cuffs, his forearms were strong and brushed with a healthy tan. The exposed vee below the solid column of his neck had revealed a tantalizing hint of the hair and hot flesh that lay beneath. Jeans suited his rebel-with-a-cause air. She wouldn’t—shouldn’t—imagine how delicious he’d look out of them.
“What was he doing here?” Katie was asking.
Dismissing the tug low at her core, Scarlet positioned a floral arrangement on the table. “Wouldn’t you assume he was here about a wedding?”
“Sure, but not his.”
“Because there’s been no public announcement?”
“Because if he was going to take the plunge, make the big merger, he wouldn’t have looked at you the way he did.”
Darting a glance toward the door, Scarlet lowered her voice. “Do you want someone to hear?”
When Katie reached for a jelly bean from her glass bowl stash at the table’s end, Scarlet reminded her, “Not the pink ones.”
Popping a white and a green, Katie mumbled and chewed. “Know what you need?”
Scarlet took the pink bean lying on top. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“You need to forget yourself and all the obligations—real and imagined—hanging around your neck, even for a week. It’d only take that long.”
“That long to do what?”
“To realize that there’s more to life than what’s expected. Or that what you’ve been raised to believe won’t necessarily make you happy. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.” Katie crossed her heart to seal the deal before she asked, “Ariella’s not around?”
“She’s working from home today.”
“First that huge ‘the president’s your dad’ announcement, then weeks of the media sticking their big fat noses in her business… Far as I’m concerned, Ariella’s a rock. I’d be an agoraphobic mess by now.”
“It must be tough.” Slipping the jelly bean between her lips, Scarlet chewed thoughtfully. “Way worse than tough.”
“Wonder when the DNA tests will be back.”
“Soon now, I imagine.”
On the samples table, Scarlet’s smartphone buzzed. She opened the text. Her friend’s ears must have been burning.
Need 2 see u, Ariella’s message read. Test results just in.
Two
Morgan Tibbs swung her attention from the pages of Time to her boss when he strode into the penthouse suite. As Daniel continued on to the room that served as his office whenever they were here in D.C., which was often enough to warrant a long-term lease on this and another suite as well as an on-site vehicle, his executive personal assistant tracked his progress.
“You said you’d be out the rest of the day,” Morgan said.
“Come in here for a moment, will you?”
He was standing by the wall-to-wall windows, which overlooked Connecticut Avenue and, in the distance, the Washington Monument obelisk when Morgan entered the room. She pretended to shudder.
“Wow. Am I seeing right? You look stressed?”
“I met a woman today.”
Morgan waited.
“And?”
“There’s something different about her.”
His assistant with the attitude clutched at her heart. “I didn’t think it would ever happen. I told you we weren’t interchangeable.”
“I’ve never said that. Particularly not about you.”
“Me aside, let’s face it. You might be Einstein where IT is concerned but you’re a freshman as far as intimate relationships go. Four weeks seems about your limit.”
“If something’s not working, why drag it out?”
“He says, leaving behind a string of women with bittersweet stars in their eyes.”
Daniel faced her. “But you’ve never had stars in your eyes where I’m concerned, have you, Morgan?” He headed for his desk. “At the risk of sounding full of myself, why not?”
Daniel guessed Morgan’s ancestry
lay in the East. Her hair was gleaming and straight, like a sheet of darkest silk. She was petite with dainty hands, a round face and an impressive IQ that gave his own impressive score a run for its money. She also possessed a telepathic ability to predict his needs precisely, which was the reason she accompanied him everywhere. Rarely was she taken aback. Now, however, genuine shock widened her almond-shaped eyes.
“You’re my boss,” she said. “Being attracted to you would never enter my head.”
“Same here.”
“Because of that extra ear in the middle of my forehead, right?”
“All I’m saying is a man knows when there’s a mutual connection. He feels that spark. The simmer of primal heat.”
She knitted her fine, dark eyebrows together. “Maybe you should talk to a boy buddy about this.”
“No. I need a female’s take.”
Pushing out a breath, she crossed over to him, her designer combat trousers rustling as she took a seat. “So, you met a woman.”
“I asked her out to dinner. She declined.”
Morgan grinned. “I’ll put out a press release.”
“She wanted to say yes, but something held her back. She was trying her best to be cool about it. Dismissive. But I’m not mistaken. Those sparks were firing.”
He recalled the way Scarlet Anders had looked at him, almost fearful but hungry, too. What was the problem? She didn’t like his cologne?
“My best guess,” Morgan said, “is that she’s either seeing a guy or getting over one.”
“Attached or burned…I see.” He absorbed the opinion, then went on. “I have her number. Business number at least.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, made a decision, then reached for the phone. “I’ll call her.”
Morgan cringed. “If she said no, that move could feel a little stalkerish.”
“I don’t stalk. It’d be a follow-up.”
“Uh-huh.” She stretched out her legs and her Doc Marten heels dug into beige plush pile. “Who is she?”
Daniel filled Morgan in. She already knew about Max and Caroline Cranshaw tying the knot; part of his reason for being in D.C. was to personally congratulate the couple and offer his support before the big day. Morgan hadn’t known about his planned visit to DC Affairs, however. When he’d finished telling her about his meeting with Scarlet, his assistant blinked twice.
“Let me get this straight. You want to help a professional wedding planner plan a wedding?”
“You’re on my side, remember?”
“Fine.” She shrugged as if this most difficult problem had an easy solution. “Next time you meet up with Max Grayson and his fiancée, ask a few questions about your Scarlet. If she and Caroline Crawshaw are good friends, as you say they are, she’ll gush with information.”
The cogs began to whir, and his smile grew and grew.
“Very crafty, Ms. Tibbs.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Now you’re accusing me of being shrewd?” Tipping back, he thatched his fingers behind his head and put his loafers up on the desk, crossing one ankle over the other. “Need I remind you that I’m the poster boy for Free and Easy.”
“Or that’s what you’d like everyone to believe, including yourself.”
His grin wavered. Sometimes he wondered if his assistant knew him a little too well.
“Now that we have your social life sorted,” Morgan went on, “you need to know who called today. It’s not public knowledge yet, but apparently a congressional committee has been formed to investigate concerns regarding hacking into private computer systems and phone networks during the presidential campaign.”
“Which resulted in the president’s paternity question.” Daniel straightened and set both feet on the floor. “Why am I not surprised?”
“They want you to return their call as soon as possible.”
An army of ants crawled up Daniel’s back and he shuddered. “I don’t like this cloak and dagger stuff.”
“Then you’d better get the hell out of Dodge.” When his frown didn’t ease, she sighed and pushed to her feet. “You’re the current Mr. Big of the IT world. They want to pump you for information on the basics as well as possible dangers of hacking they’d rather not even think about. Most importantly, they’re hoping you can tell them who might be behind it all.” She headed out. “I’ll get that commission representative back on the phone.”
“Hang on to that thought.” Daniel reached for the office extension. “The White House might be digging for clues, but I have a pressing matter of my own to clear up first.”
He’d decided to follow Morgan’s sound advice regarding Scarlet Anders. He wouldn’t call her. He had a far better idea.
* * *
Scarlet greeted Ariella Winthrop at her Georgetown town house with a huge I’m-here-for-you hug, then quickly shut the door.
After receiving Ariella’s text message, Scarlet had called her right back. Her friend had wanted a hand to hold when she read the paternity results. Rather than meet at Ariella’s house or the office, where the chance of media hounds skulking around was higher, they’d agreed to meet at Scarlet’s home as soon as possible.
Now Ariella reached to take her friend’s hand at the same time Scarlet spotted the envelope.
“When I lost my adoptive parents in that accident,” Ariella said, lifting that envelope to her chest, “I missed them so much I prayed that a miracle would bring them back. Now I’m finally facing the prospect of knowing my biological father. Hopefully having a relationship. I can’t get my head around the fact that man might be the president of the United States.”
“You still haven’t spoken with Ted Morrow?”
“Only his office. It’s all very clinical. Respectful but with an undercurrent of ‘tread carefully.’ As if I’m anyone to be afraid of.”
Except where the president’s popularity polls were concerned, Scarlet thought. This situation should have had nothing to do with politics but some were of the opinion private skeletons in the closet made for the juiciest scandals. In this day and age of sharing everything with everyone on sites like Waves, it seemed that nothing remained sacred, including an individual’s feelings.
Scarlet asked, “How are you holding up?”
“I have so many nerves bouncing around in my stomach, I feel sick.”
“Come in. Sit down. We’ll open it together.”
Arms around each other’s waists, Scarlet guided her friend through to the living room. They’d spent months here together in this very room, going over plans for their business, discussing individual strengths, hopes, fears. Both women had been so anxious—and thrilled—when the doors to DC Affairs had finally opened.
Since then, they’d learned together and, like anyone, had made their share of mistakes. But they hadn’t quarreled once and, consequently, their friendship had grown even stronger. There were times they laughed and times where one or the other had needed support.
Times like this.
The women took a seat close together on a sofa positioned adjacent to the piano and directly opposite the fireplace. On the mantel, Scarlet’s parents smiled out from the heart of a white-gold frame. The three Anderses were cut from the same cloth—proud, strong and loving…. Although her mother could be a little, well, overzealous sometimes. She was pleased her daughter was dating a Matheson, and didn’t lose an opportunity to remind Scarlet of such.
Still, if there was one thing Scarlet could be certain of, it was her roots. Today, Ariella’s journey of fitting together missing pieces of her own past might truly have begun.
Staring down at the envelope, Ariella siphoned back a big lungful of air, then blew it shakily out.
“I haven’t stopped looking in the mirror, at photos,” she said, “wondering if there’s a resemblance. I find myself smiling, hoping that it’s him. Then I wince thinking how he might react if it’s true. And most of all…” She pushed out a sigh. “Most of all I wonder about my mother. I’m actually grateful th
e press dug around the president’s earlier life and found out who his high school sweetheart was. We know she left for Ireland years ago, but why can’t Eleanor Albert be found now? Why did she give me up for adoption? I need to know why she and Ted Morrow broke up. Was it because of the baby? Because of me?”
“At least you have a name now,” Scarlet said gently.
Ariella nodded, pushed out another shuddery breath, then shunted the envelope across to her friend.
“Will you do it?” she asked. “I’m shaking so much, I might tear it.”
A withering feeling fell through Scarlet’s center. The country was on tenterhooks waiting for these results. Now was one of those pivotal moments in history, and she’d be one of the first to know the truth.
Scarlet pried open the flap, slid out the record, ran her eye down the page. Lots of stats, but the information Ariella so desperately sought was outlined at the top.
“It says there’s a 99.99999% probability of paternity.” Lowering the page, Scarlet met her friend’s glassy gaze. “That means Ted Morrow is your father. Ariella, you’re the president’s daughter.”
* * *
“There’s been a whisper. A congressional committee’s been formed to look into this hacking business.”
Receiver pressed to an ear, Daniel smirked at Max Grayson’s announcement. “I was privileged to have received a personal invitation to the proceedings.”
The laptop sat at one side of his desk. Daniel opened the most recent Waves feed, scrolled down, but no word of a committee had gone viral yet…although every man and his dog was discussing ANS’s paternity accusation against President Morrow.
“The White House must be revved up on high preparing to hunt down anyone connected with tampering with private phone and computer lines to obtain the information.” Max circled back. “Did you just say someone from this committee called you?”
“Affirmative. Can you give me some background? I know that Brit, Colin Middlebury, was lobbying for the U.S. to form a tech treaty with the U.K.”