by Robyn Grady
He edged closer.
When his mouth slanted over hers, her eyes drifted shut and those sweet lips parted on a sigh. Any second, he expected her to pull back. Slap his face. But as one heartbeat bled into the next, she only dissolved against him more as if she wanted him to know that she agreed. Despite her objections, this coming together was always going to happen.
His hand found the curve of her neck, the fast but steady beat of a pulse. As his tongue twined with hers, his fingers combed up to cradle the back of her head. They pressed closer, the kiss deepened and his desire to know more—take more—began to burn in his mind like a torch.
When their lips gradually parted, Daniel didn’t sense anger. Certainly not disgust. As his gaze searched her face in the shadows, his hand slid around to cup her hot cheek. The pad of his thumb grazed the moist rim of her lower lip. Slowly her heavy-lidded eyes met his.
“You can’t ever do that again,” she said.
“That would entail never seeing you again.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
He wanted to laugh. Man, was she stubborn.
“I respect that you don’t want to blur the lines between personal and your business commitment to Caroline’s wedding,” he assured her. “And I heard that you’ve dated some guy with a digit at the end of his name—”
“I’m engaged,” she cut in, and that still-wet bottom lip quivered. “To be married.”
His gut kicked. That didn’t compute. She was kidding. Had to be.
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“We haven’t made the announcement. Everett only asked me last night. The ring is being resized. It’s an heirloom.”
Daniel fell away, gripped the wheel. What the…?
He growled, “Spare me the details.”
But there was one thing he did want to know. Why was she marrying a guy she didn’t love? Because, while he’d never experienced that emotion himself, Daniel was bloody sure if he’d wanted someone enough to pop the question, he wouldn’t be kissing someone else, not for any reason.
Still, that hardly made him a white knight in this situation. If he hadn’t kept on. Hadn’t insisted on this lift but had left her to stand there alone in the rain…
Shutting his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I apologize,” he said. “I’m not a good loser.”
“I’m a far worse fiancée.” Her head went back against the rest and, as if she were sick to her stomach, she groaned. “Bad doesn’t come close to describing how I feel.”
“I take responsibility—”
“No. It’s my fault.” She looked across at him with a gaze that was turned more inward than out. “You see, when I said I didn’t trust you, what I should have said…what I should have understood was that I didn’t trust myself.”
* * *
Scarlet left Daniel with a perplexed look on his face but her own mind strangely clear.
As she closed the car door and walked to her building’s entrance, she half wondered if he’d follow. When he didn’t, she was grateful for two reasons. Firstly she didn’t want that smoldering episode they’d just experienced to have even half a chance of resuming. Ever.
Second—
Now she truly did need to speak with Everett straightaway.
She opened her town house door and, feeling numb, moved to the living room extension. After dialing Everett’s cell, she waited calmly to connect. When her call went to voice mail, she wandered across the room and put on a CD. But for once Bach didn’t soothe her. If anything the music irritated and unsettled her. She pressed Pause and tried Everett’s number again. This time he answered.
“I was on my way out to dinner,” Everett said. “My head’s buzzing with figures, all of them good.” He laughed, a gravelly, breathy kind of sound she realized now she’d never liked. “Goodman asked if I could stay on a few more days. He wants to introduce me to a circle of friends who need some numbers crunched.”
“That’s all great,” she said. “But, Everett, I need to speak with you—”
“I know, I know. I said it’d only be a couple of days but this opportunity is too good to pass up. You know I miss you.”
She rubbed her temple. The mother of all headaches had just kicked in.
“It’s not that.”
“Then you’re calling about the ring. Girls and their baubles,” he teased. “Don’t worry. I left it in my mother’s capable hands. She was antsy about having it resized but I told her, it’s me getting married. Not her.”
Scarlet thought of Mrs. Matheson, how her mouth would pinch whenever the older woman greeted her in their lavish home even when Scarlet was unfailingly polite. Perhaps her attitude had something to do with another female stealing her only son.
But maybe Mrs. Matheson was able to sense a problem Scarlet hadn’t been aware of—at least, not until today. She not only didn’t love Everett, she didn’t particularly like him—the way he parted his hair, or spoke to waiters, or always put his work first. When Scarlet thought of it now, she wondered how she managed to mask those feelings. How she’d so blithely dismissed Katie’s concern earlier that day.
If Daniel hadn’t kissed her tonight, she’d have gone on believing that she’d made a good and wise choice in marrying Everett. To be fair, she’d never paid attention to any other kind of man. Everett was upstanding, predictable. Pious. Like her parents. She had never entertained the notion of embracing something different. She’d never accepted that intensely raw emotions—such euphoric, sizzling sensations—could truly exist.
Everett was still speaking about tax laws and offshore possibilities when she interrupted.
“Everett, I can’t marry you.”
Stunned silence stretched down the line. Then he cleared his throat. She imagined his elongated nostrils flaring.
“Can you repeat that?”
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I thought I was sure.”
“What’s changed?”
She thought of her regular diet of classical music, then remembered a kangaroo in a big bow tie. An image of a cathedral wedding appeared in her mind’s eye alongside a throbbing motorcycle. Then she imagined a run of business dinners and lonely nights versus the drugging magic of a single kiss.
Shutting her eyes, Scarlet pressed her palm against her pounding temple. “It’s not right. We’re not right.”
He exhaled almost patiently.
“You want me to come home?”
“Oh, Everett, that won’t change anything.”
His voice dropped an octave. “You couldn’t wait to tell me to my face?”
“I’d like to think we could still be friends,” she said.
But Everett Matheson III had already hung up in her ear.
Four
Amid clusters of tuxedos and glamorous evening gowns, Daniel’s senses homed in on her presence with the precision of a heat-seeking missile. The conversation he’d been part of blended in with the background music and tinkle of glassware while his senses sharpened and garnered an inventory of his find.
Her snug bodice topped a fall of gossamer light gold-colored fabric that, slit down the center, pooled in a modest train at her heels. The snow-white layer closest to her skin ended in a cloud at her toes. But that halo of golden-red hair was the showstopper—long, luscious and hypnotic, just as Daniel had imagined it would be.
Conversing with an attentive doyenne of D.C. society, Scarlet Anders must have said something amusing. When her companion threw back her steel-gray chignon and laughed with delight, Daniel felt his own smile spread. A pro at mingling, Scarlet left on a high and bowed off. Daniel also excused himself from his own conversational circle. Sipping from a crystal flute, she cast an inquisitive glance around. When she spotted him strolling toward her, closing the gap, her slender shoulders went up and that beautiful face came alive in a way that made his pulse pound and deepen all the more.
Since that night a week ago, after that unforgettable kiss, he’d kept h
is distance. Scarlet Anders was betrothed to another man. No matter what his feelings were—the knot in his stomach and warmth in his chest whenever he thought of her—that was the end of it. But here, in public, he wouldn’t be so rude as to ignore her. Etiquette decreed he be civil, say hello, exchange pleasantries. Even while his arms already ached to draw her near.
“This is a surprise,” he said, stopping before her as the genteel throng hummed around them.
“Daniel.” She let out a breath. “I didn’t think you’d be into this kind of evening.”
“Normally, I’m not a good candidate for these gala events. But tonight is the second reason for my visit to D.C. I’m a long-standing benefactor of this charity.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion before she answered her own question. “Right. Youth Rules’s head office is here in Washington, but it’s an international charity.” She seemed to look at him through a slightly different lens. “So, helping youngsters find their way is a cause close to your heart?”
“That—and I’m a sucker for a good auction.” He drank in her vibrant smile. “How about you?”
“DC Affairs was hired to look after the hors d’oeuvres, drinks and some frills. A personal invitation showed up in my in-box a month ago, but I’m here more to keep an eye on how everything’s running. My parents are around somewhere, too.”
Following her lead, Daniel’s gaze searched the massive ballroom. Gold-ridged Corinthian columns delineated the borders of the space. The elevated corniced ceiling had been transformed into a canvas of glittering stars. The waitstaff were dressed in hotel uniforms but not all were delivering nibblies and drinks via the usual means. Some were gliding and sliding around on some kind of roller skates. He tipped his chin at a waitress skillfully rolling past.
“Sneaker skates?” he asked.
“I combined a fluid representation of today’s youth,” she explained, “with the idea of reaching for the stars as well as the industry and foresight of ancient Greece.”
As represented by those columns. “Brave mix.” He glanced around again. “But it works.”
“Glad you approve.”
“So, how’s the wedding planning going?” he asked to keep himself from telling her how stunning she looked. As Scarlet might say, not appropriate.
“Cara’s plans are coming along brilliantly,” she said.
“I meant your plans.”
Her animated expression wilted, then her chin lifted to a proud angle. “As a matter of fact, I broke the engagement off.”
Daniel’s heart lurched halfway up his throat. Damn. He hadn’t seen that coming. Every night this past week, he’d lain awake imagining how Scarlet had ultimately rationalized away the moment they’d shared fogging up his car windows. But it seemed that she’d owned the experience instead.
The society marriage was off. Which meant there was hope for the two of them yet. But no need to gloat or rub it in. As Scarlet had demonstrated a week ago in Max’s living room, some situations called for an outright lie.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he said. “Matheson must’ve been upset.”
“I’m sure his ego was dented. I’m just as sure he’s getting on with his life.”
“Can’t keep a good man down?”
Her wry grin said a lot. “How are things in Waves land?” she asked, changing the subject.
“From all accounts, running smoothly. I hope to get back to Sydney next week, then fly back here in time for the wedding.”
As best man he’d wanted to add his own special touch to his friend’s big day, but knowing how unfavorably Scarlet would view an unorthodox surprise at one of “her” weddings, maybe he should temporarily hang up his nuptial prankster gloves. No teeny cars, their roofs dressed up with giant top hats and tiaras with veils, before swapping the vehicles at the last moment for gleaming Bentleys. No keeping a straight face when presenting a plastic wading pool as a wedding gift at the reception only to have the honeymooning newlyweds’ back yard completely renovated to include a magnificent resort style pool, ready for their return.
“Itching to get home to jump on your own set of wheels and belt off down that Great Ocean Road?” Scarlet was asking him.
He narrowed one eye at her, assessing. “You want to do it, don’t you. Admit it. You really, really do.”
She coughed out a laugh. “I do not.”
“First sneaker skates. Soon you’ll be stealing peeks at Vespas. Next comes the itch to throw your leg over something more powerful. Something big and hot and smooth.”
“Your motorcycle.”
“That works, too.”
Her eyes rounded. But she quickly gathered herself, brushing an errant wave away from her glowing cheek. “You like to tease, don’t you, Daniel.”
“Truth is, I like you, Scarlet. A lot.”
She flicked a half-anxious gaze around the room. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in public.”
“We don’t have to be.”
Her jaw dropped. But she looked more tempted than outraged. Which fit. She could play coy but she’d ended that relationship because of her feelings for him and, make no mistake, now that she was free, all bets were off.
“We were talking about party planning,” she reminded him, diverting the conversation onto higher ground. “This past week, I’ve cleared my desk to focus solely on Cara and Max’s wedding. I’ve made headway, but there are so many important bits and pieces to see to yet. There’s not only all the customs to consider but also family requests.” She tilted her head and a diamond drop earring blinked beneath the lights. “You’re looking at me strangely.”
Intently, hungrily. Yes, he was.
“I think we should forget about work commitments and enjoy the evening,” he said.
“I thought we were already doing that.”
“I should have said, enjoy it more.”
He took her flute and set it on a passing waiter’s tray. Then he wound her arm through his and ushered her away, weaving between nattering groups of party guests until they stood among other couples on the dance floor. Beneath the enormous center chandelier, he wove one arm around her slender waist. His other hand twined with hers. Bringing her forearm to rest against his lapel, their bodies warm and close, they began to dance while those stars overhead sparkled in her eyes.
As she moved with him, her gaze never shying from his, he breathed in her heavenly scent. Absorbed the long-anticipated moment. And with each beat of music and strum of his heart, he wanted to confess how very much he needed to up their score from one kiss to two.
“How’s your friend Ariella holding up?” he asked instead.
“Remarkably well, considering how the media’s been hounding her. ANS is the worst. The people at the top of that network are shamefully short on scruples. What kind of people enjoy hunting down a fellow human being, goading her, hoping that eventually the pressure will break her down so that they’ll get their footage and some reporters will get their five seconds of fame.” She shuddered. “Sick.”
“Not all reporters are like that.” Max—when he had been a reporter—for one.
Her frown faded. “I know. Thank God.”
“I take it Ted Morrow and Ariella haven’t had a face-to-face yet. When the results of that test are finally released, the White House would want to make sure the president’s next move is the right one.”
“I can’t imagine how it all must be tearing her up inside. Her parents died a few years ago.”
“Max mentioned.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? How would it feel to have your own father, your own flesh and blood, turn his back on you?”
Daniel’s insides kicked and his jaw flexed tight. Outwardly, he raised his brows and replied, “Not good, that’s for sure.” Keeping his steps in time to the tune, he turned her around. “Have you seen anything you’d like to bid on at the tables?”
She gave an impish grin. “I’m leaning toward that two-week vacation on an exclusive Barrier Reef isl
and courtesy of Anonymous.”
“Wonder who that might be.”
Her lips twitched. “Hmm. I wonder.”
“I’d highly recommend it.” And he knew her ideal travel companion. Ah, the fun they could have.
“I’ve never seen Australia. It seems so far away.”
“Don’t tell anyone, but it is.”
“That big red rock in the center—”
“Uluru.”
“Must be an amazing sight.”
“Particularly at dawn and dusk. God certainly got His palette right on that one.”
Her gaze drifted off to one side as she seemed to imagine experiencing that amazing sight firsthand.
“What’s your favorite place back home?” she asked.
“The beaches. The water. I have a yacht moored at Port Hinchinbrook. That’s just south of Cairns.”
“Barrier Reef territory.”
“Ever been snorkeling?”
“My fair skin isn’t a fan of UV.”
“Imagine hundred-year-old turtles swimming past, close enough to touch. Schools of lightning-fast fish darting before your goggled eyes. Ocean plateaus filled with living, breathing coral. Bright blue and orange and startling green. Something like the color of your eyes.” His chin lowered. “And I mean that in a purely nonsexual way.”
“Sure you do.” Her playful gaze dropped before meeting his again. “But I suppose there’s no point avoiding the subject. I can’t deny the kiss we shared was rather nice.”
“Nice isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Point is,” she said, unconsciously squeezing his shoulder, “I am who I am and you are…well, different. We live in different worlds. Might as well be different galaxies.”
“Ever heard of the saying ‘opposites attract’?”
She plowed on. “You don’t like the establishment. As a teen, you rebelled against it. From what I’ve read these past days, you were on a course destined for crime.”
His step almost faltered. Exactly how much research had Scarlet done? How far back had she gone?
“I’m grateful I had someone to help straighten me out.”
“Apparently you’re a genius and bit of an eccentric,” she went on, “who would far rather chill out listening to heavy-metal rock than enjoy a vintage wine before heading off to the opera.”