Dear Reader,

I went to a friend’s wedding recently and was touched deeply by the ceremony, by the exchange of vows, by the circle of warmth encapsulating the bride and groom.

I felt how being near those totally and utterly in love has a lasting impact on all of those who share that moment.

I wanted to write about the women behind the scenes; the ones who make those special days happen, the ones who play fairy godmother, helping to create a memory built on love that extends beyond the span of days, months and years. The ones who, no matter how expert they are at helping others, can’t quite sort out their own lives.

I hope you enjoy reading about THE WEDDING PLANNERS as much as I enjoyed writing them. Look out for The Best Man’s Baby (July, #3805) and A Convenient Groom (August, #3809) coming soon in Harlequin Romance®!

Best Wishes,

Darcy Maguire wanted to grow up to be a fairy, but her wings never grew, her magic never worked and her life was no fairy tale. But one thing she knew for certain was that she was going to find her soul mate and live happily ever after. Darcy found her dark and handsome hero on a blind date, married him a year later and found that love truly is the soul of creativity. With four children too young to play matchmaker for (yet!) Darcy satisfies the romantic in her by finding true love for her fictional characters. It was this passion for romance, and her ability to sit in a chair every day, that led to the publication of her first novel, Her Marriage Secret. Darcy lives in Melbourne, Australia, and loves to read widely, sew and sneak off to the movies without the kids.

Books by Darcy Maguire

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3745—HER MARRIAGE SECRET

3754—ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

A Professional Engagement
Darcy Maguire

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

RICK couldn’t place her.

She stood in the foyer by the front desk, almost as stiff as the black business suit she wore. A red folder was pressed close to her white shirt, her attention on scanning the busy room.

She looked all business, except for her hair…Rick tilted his head and furrowed his brow. It was short, dark and tousled, sticking out at wild angles, looking like a style that belonged on an artist or a model, not on such a serious looking woman.

He rubbed his jaw. Odd.

He knew all of his own staff intimately, the research subsidiary by name and the support team on sight. Was she a new employee or just a passer-by?

Rick shook himself. She wasn’t going to be a mystery. Two minutes and he’d have the young woman sorted, classified and pigeon-holed, like everything else in his life. He turned, focusing on the task at hand.

Rick straightened his tie and stepped up on to a chair, putting a smile on his face. ‘I’d like to congratulate everyone here on a job well done—the Hinney & Smith project has been a great success for us. We can now ship our products all over the continent ourselves, cutting costs and increasing our profit margins.’

‘We’re now a bigger and better company and I’m proud of all of you.’ He lifted his champagne glass. ‘To a great team with a bright and prosperous future.’

He took a gulp of the champagne amidst the cheers and whistles. He meant it too. They were a great bunch to work with. Their dedication and loyalty to research, finance and ultimately acquisition had ensured his company another success.

His gaze wandered back to the cool but pretty stranger. The woman stood in the doorway, casually surveying his employees.

She didn’t have a glass. He could remedy that.

Rick stepped down, smiling and shaking the hands of his team. He loved giving praise where praise was due—and hell, they all deserved heaps.

Rick rubbed his jaw. His next challenge was to merge the company with SportyCo, making his sports equipment twice the force in the marketplace. It was a risk to go for it so soon, but he couldn’t wait. He wanted it. He hadn’t worked so hard for the last ten years to baulk now.

It would probably be safer to wait, ensuring his playboy image was well behind him before he embarked on the ambitious move. It was unlikely that they’d agree to him as president of the combined company if he didn’t have the right sort of credibility.

The last six months with Kasey Steel should have done the trick in convincing the world that he’d left his wild days behind him. His friends were believing that he’d settled down. The business world couldn’t be far behind…?

No matter what he’d done he hadn’t been able to free himself from his past. His passion for extreme sports was seen as reckless, his nights out with the boys as drunken rages and his dating as womanising. He couldn’t win. Until now.

Rick hadn’t expected the effect a steady relationship could have on his reputation. Though nothing could have got in the way of him doing the right thing by his friend. But now, here was a bonus, his chance to finally shake his infamous exploits of years ago and be taken seriously.

He had it made. He just had to stay on track. Rick’s gaze darted back to the doorway. Right after he sorted out this woman.

He straightened his burgundy shirt and tightened his purple tie, smoothing down the silk. He buttoned his suit jacket, looking down at his matching black trousers. He’d pass.

He plucked another champagne glass from the table and weaved his way to the front desk, his eyes not leaving the newcomer.

She was taller than he’d first thought, almost as tall as himself in her black high heels. Her hair wasn’t as wild or riotous on closer inspection. The ‘do’ looked as engineered as the rest of her. It was orderly and precise—only a pretext of rebellion.

What was she? An accountant from the finance department? A wayward librarian? Or some starched schoolteacher with aspirations of becoming a cold fish? She certainly was working the image.

He hesitated. He was half tempted to turn on his heel and melt into the crowd, allowing himself the luxury of speculation about the woman a little longer, entertaining himself with the possibilities.

She turned towards him, her dark eyes stabbing him.

She was striking!

Rick strode forward and thrust the glass of champagne towards the stranger. ‘You look lost,’ he blurted like an idiot.

She smiled at him, putting up her hand and shaking her head at the glass. ‘No thanks. And no, not at all.’ She looked past him. ‘I’m exactly where I should be.’

Rick took a quick sharp breath, unable to tear his eyes off the woman. He hadn’t expected the vibrancy of her voice, the sweet lilt in her tone, or the brilliance in her dark eyes. There was no way she was as cool and controlled as she appeared to be.

His gaze slid over her, the chatter in the room fading, his breathing becoming louder, and his body becoming extremely aware of hers.

Rick cleared his throat, deftly discarded the drinks on a desk and moved into her line of sight.

She raised her dark eyes slightly to meet his, with an intensity that was discomfiting, as though she knew things that he wasn’t privy to. ‘I’m here for an appointment,’ she said smoothly, glancing at the empty receptionist’s desk. ‘But I think that’s the last thing on everyone’s mind.’

‘I could help,’ he offered.

‘Ye—es…’ She pursed her lips and tried to look past him. ‘Only if you can tell me where I can find Mr Keene.’

Warmth filled his body. He couldn’t help but smile. ‘You’ve found him.’

She looked taken aback for a moment as though he’d surprised her. She ran her dark gaze over him in a lazy perusal, from his black shoes, up his tailored suit, over his shirt and tie to his face.

Her eyes narrowed, searching his face as though trying to find the answer to a puzzle of her own.

Rick caught and held her gaze. ‘Do I measure up?’

‘Oh…sorry…of course.’ Her cheeks flushed.

He stood taller. ‘You were expecting someone else?’

‘I didn’t expect you to be so old.’

‘Old?’ What the—? ‘I don’t think thirty-four is old.’ Had his face dried and cracked up since this morning’s shave? Had a decade or three been stolen from his life? Admittedly, he no longer had the round, smooth features he’d had as a teenager. He rubbed his jaw. But he looked after himself.

She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’ She pressed her lips together and looked away. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt your celebrations. I could come back later?’

He put up a hand to stall her. ‘No. It’s not a problem.’ But what about him being old? A person couldn’t just blurt out a thing like that and not explain, especially not a young, pretty woman like this one, even if she was hiding being a cool façade.

‘So…?’ she asked softly. ‘Which way would be your office? I presume you’d like to talk somewhere a little quieter?’

‘Sure.’ His muscles tightened. What could this be about? Dammit. He scanned the room for his secretary, his mind toying with the possibilities. Usually she would have informed him of his appointments for the afternoon before he’d gone out for lunch. Today, he’d sprung the celebration on the office…

He walked down the hallway, vividly aware of the woman behind him, of her softly scented perfume and of the mystery that shrouded her.

Where was she from? Who did she work for? What was her job? He could usually pick at least a person’s occupation.

Rick opened the door to his private office and watched her pass him without a hesitation, her hips swaying gently. She moved as though she was in absolute control, with a musical rhythm, as though she was a dancer.

He rubbed his chin. Who was she? He strode into his large corner office. ‘Patrick Keene,’ he offered, holding out his hand. ‘And you are?’

‘Tara Andrews.’ She shook his hand firmly, meeting his eyes with a calm assurance.

The name meant nothing. Neither, he assured himself, did the jolt deep in his gut at her firm touch.

Rick turned on his heel and strode around his large teak desk and glanced out at the Sydney skyline. He turned to face the woman. ‘So?’

She barely glanced around at her surroundings. ‘I’m here about your proposal.’

He sighed, dropping his shoulders. Mystery over. She was just work. ‘Which one?’ He moved to the desk and flicked through the papers scattered across the surface.

‘Which one?’ she echoed.

‘Which proposal are you here to discuss, Miss?’

‘I—’

‘I have several projects in the pipeline—do you represent an investor or one of the parties involved?’ He steeled himself for the concerns, the judgements, the resentments and/or the litigious threats that would come next.

‘I’m not here for business,’ she said in a more gentle tone. ‘I’m here on a personal basis.’

He stared at her, his mind racing. Personal? How personal? There was no way he’d forget those deep dark eyes, those full red lips, her smooth tanned skin or her slender body, with curves that itched to be explored.

His body heated.

‘I’m a proposal planner. Mr Thomas Steel asked me to come and tell you about my service in the hope that I could assist you in giving his daughter a memorable proposal of marriage.’ She leant forward and handed him her business card.

‘Marriage?’ he echoed, his mind numbing. He took the card and stared at the words on it, trying to clear his head.

Had old man Steel got sick of waiting? He was always on about how old he was getting and how he wanted to see grandchildren before he died. Rick tensed. Had he and Kasey reached the end of their ruse? He hoped not.

‘Am I in the wrong place?’ Tara glanced at a page in the folder. ‘No. This is right. You are Patrick Keene, aren’t you?’

He stared at her. ‘Yes, but…’ A proposal planner? He crossed his arms over his chest, clenching his jaw against the rush of blood to his ears.

How could anyone think that a successful and extremely competent businessman like himself couldn’t handle a task as simple and straight-forward as a proposal of marriage?

Was old man Steel pulling his leg? Or didn’t he think that he was up to the task on his own? Or was he just tired of waiting for his daughter to come up with a family and figured he needed a shove in the back.

Unbelievable!

She pulled a chair away from his desk, positioning it to face him where he stood and sat down, crossing her long legs and propping the folder on her lap, her skirt riding up her smooth thighs in a most discomfiting way.

She offered him a small smile. ‘By the look on your face I’d have to say Mr Steel hasn’t broached the subject with you yet.’ She glanced at him with questioning eyes. ‘I’m sorry. Mr Steel came to me and requested that I come and have a chat with you, to let you know that help is available…’ Her voice faded. ‘If you need it.’

He lifted his eyebrows, shooting the woman a sardonic look. There was no way in hell he’d need help to propose!

The woman bit her bottom lip. ‘I understand you’ve been going out with his daughter for some time now?’

‘Yes,’ he said tightly.

‘Of course, the most important thing is that you propose to your girlfriend in your own time, when you’re ready…’

Rick let out the breath he’d been holding. ‘Thank you. I appreciate your consideration. I think Thomas Steel may have forgotten that particular point.’ And several others, especially that people prefer to live their own lives, not ones engineered by him.

‘I did try to tell him.’ She shrugged. ‘But he insisted.’

‘I know what that’s like.’

She licked her lips, staring at her folder. ‘I agreed to come and let you know that proposal planning is a new service that offers busy men like yourself the opportunity to employ a person—’ she touched her chest ‘—like me, to help you with many aspects of your proposal.’ She tapped her pen against the page in front of her.

‘I don’t need help proposing.’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘I understand that perfectly, but will you hear me out? Most men do rush into the proposal, following whatever misconception they have, mostly from television, mind you. They sell themselves short and their partners. After all, the proposal is as special, if not more so, than the wedding itself—a declaration of love and commitment that sets up your life together.’

Rick leant against the corner of his desk, his arms crossed, studying the proposal planner. She was nice to watch, and to listen to—and surely there was no harm in hearing her out.

She tapped the pen against her full red lips. ‘I can help you in many ways. We have an extensive library of books that you could borrow—poetry books, books of love letters and romance phrase books, if you’re having trouble with how you’re going to present the big question.’

Rick couldn’t tear his gaze away from those lips.

‘And then, of course, I can assist with all the legwork of investigating prices and possible venues for your proposal—’

He pressed his lips together to stop the smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Was she for real?

‘And then, of course, there are all the ideas on how exactly you’d like to propose—whether you want to jump out of an aeroplane and propose ten thousand feet above the world, with the wind rushing around you. Or on a tropical island in the moonlight with a thousand stars twinkling in the sky above you.’ She glanced up at him, her eyes bright. ‘Or at a romantic restaurant with the sweet aroma of exotic food and gentle music, and with her face lit by soft candlelight. Or on a yacht out on the ocean, as though you were the only two people in the world…’

He held up his hand, staring down at the planner. She was amazing! Daunting even. How could she be so cool, then suddenly light up with such passion? How could she hide it so efficiently?

That crop of hair that was standing in all directions made her all the more striking—it was hard to take his eyes off her. Off her hair, off her deep, dark eyes, off those lips and those long, long legs.

‘I think that—’ he said, swallowing hard, pushing down the rising heat in his body. ‘That although it sounds like a great idea, it’s not for me.’

She laid her hands in her lap, took a deep breath and looked up at him with cool dark eyes. ‘Of course, Mr Keene.’

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the urge to keep her around a bit longer. ‘Thank you for coming in but I’m quite capable of handling a proposal on my own.’

She nodded. ‘I suspected that from the first moment I saw you.’

‘Sorry for all your trouble.’ He put his hand in his inner jacket pocket, grasping his wallet. ‘I’ll compensate you for your time, of course.’

She put up a hand. ‘No need.’ She slid her pen into the spine of her folder. ‘I understand perfectly. My service isn’t for everybody.’

He strode to the door and grasped the cold metal handle tightly. Much as he admired her passion, he couldn’t afford to entertain any thoughts about the woman and her service. Not now.

He held the door open. The last thing they needed was someone asking questions about his personal life, and Kasey’s.

‘Thank you for your time, and good luck,’ she said, standing up and smoothing the creases from her skirt, over her well-rounded hips and down her thighs.

Rick pressed his lips together, clamping down on the burning heat scorching through his veins. He wanted his to be the hands on her curves. Wanted her hands running over him.

She didn’t move, her eyes deep and dark and dangerously intent on him, almost as though she knew what he was thinking.

He pulled at his tie.

‘I wish you both every happiness,’ she said smoothly, her sweet voice even.

‘Thanks.’ Rick wanted to kick himself for his faltering, for the lack of his usual cool detachment, for his body’s traitorous response to her, and for the enticing mystery she offered.

Hell, for the first time in six months he was regretting forfeiting bachelor life for Kasey’s scheme. ‘Thank you for taking the time to see me, but I have to get back to the others,’ he said smoothly.

‘Bye.’

Rick lurched out of the doorway and strode down the hall. He had to get away from the disturbing woman before he did something he’d regret.

He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. How on earth had Thomas Steel even found the woman? He didn’t even know that proposal planners existed…What next?

He weaved his way into the throng of his employees, concentrating on the task at hand, trying to push the woman from his mind.

The planner had been a surprise. A tall, lovely one that had tested him. Cripes, and what a test! Rick dragged in a long deep breath. But she was finished and over.

She was not part of the plan.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU are like the stars in the starry heavens. Like the water is to the wet flowers. Like a dream I want to have for ever.’ He swallowed and shifted his weight on his knees. ‘I would be honoured…I would be thrilled…I want you to be my wife.’

She shook her head slowly.

‘You’re like a rose…a bird I want to hold, like a Porsche with shining bodywork—’

‘I don’t think so…’ she said gently.

‘But—’

Tara bit her lip, looking down at her client, her chest tight. ‘Maybe you should go home and think about it some more?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I have to practise. I know you don’t usually help with the words themselves, but I’m so hopeless when it comes to this sort of stuff.’

‘You’re doing—’

‘No, I’m not.’ Mr Faulkner looked up at her, his face creased in pain. ‘I really need you to hear it and help me get it right.’

Tara nodded.

He sucked in a deep breath. ‘I want you. I want to keep you. I want to wake up to your smiling face in the morning, and hold you tight every night. Be my wife. Please.’

‘It could work…’ Tara stood up and approached the poor guy, still kneeling, still staring at the chair where his sweetheart would be for the real thing.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want it to just work, I want my proposal to rock her world.’

Tara stared at him. He was barely as old as she was. How did he think at twenty-six that he knew what he wanted? How did he know that he’d found his soul mate? That sharing a life with someone else was going to make his better?

‘Get up and stretch for a bit,’ she offered, looking down at her notes, unable to meet his eyes. ‘You’re doing…well.’ And at least he was into it, unlike Mr Keene.

Patrick Keene. What a hunk, if you liked that clean-shaven, strong jawed, short back and sides, office dweller look. Tara tapped her pen against her lips. He did it well, even if the colour scheme of his clothes was a little out there.

She should have expected him to say no. The man was obviously sitting on top of the world with his gigantic office in one of Sydney’s largest buildings, in that tailor-made suit that hugged his wide shoulders and accentuated his height and power.

He hadn’t seemed like the type of man to seek assistance for anything, let alone a proposal.

She bit the end of her pen and stared out of the window to the parked cars on the side street. She often fantasised about what a rich and influential client could do for their business. In the few hours from when Mr Steel had come to see her, until the moment she had laid eyes on Patrick Keene, she’d thought it was finally coming true.

The family business of Camelot would have thrived from the compliments Steel would have given their services, become a bustling hub of activity, everything that she planned it to be, just far sooner.

Pulling together her family’s talents, Tara had promised both her sisters and her mother all the security and success they were looking for. And with her at the helm she was sure their fledgling business would be a winner.

They’d just have to manage without Patrick Keene.

Did Patrick know that Miss Steel was the one? She turned around and looked at the young man mouthing words silently to the chair, practising. This guy couldn’t seem to find the words that expressed what it was about his partner that touched him deeply enough for him to consider spending the rest of his life monogamously with her.

Did Mr Faulkner really believe she’d be smiling every morning? That she’d want him to hold her every night? After the third baby arrived, after he’d been out with the boys, after he’d forgotten to put out the trash again, or after he’d come home late from work for the umpteenth time without an explanation….

Tara strode back to her desk, breathing short and fast. She straightened the papers, lined up the telephone to the edge and rearranged the pens in the cup.

‘We’ve been at this for an hour. I guess I’ve tortured you enough, Miss Andrews?’

Tara swung to face the man.

He stood up and straightened his trousers, his brow furrowed. ‘I’m not going to give up, you know.’

She nodded. ‘I think it would be good for you to work on it at home for a few days.’ She walked to the bookshelf and pulled out a poetry book. ‘You might find it helpful to read this and make notes about which words represent what you feel about your girlfriend.’

‘Poetry?’ He dug his hands deep into his pockets, nodding slowly, then slipped into his suit jacket and took the book. ‘It couldn’t hurt.’

Tara glanced at her watch and headed for the door. ‘At least we have all the rest of the arrangements sorted out for you. You can give me a call and I’ll organise things for you, or you can do it yourself. You’ve got all the information.’

‘I have to get the words right first,’ he said tightly.

‘And you will.’ She opened the door wide, offering him a smile of encouragement. ‘I’ll see you next Thursday.’

Tara closed the door after him, sagging against the timber. What had she got herself into?

When she’d first introduced the proposal planning she’d expected to be planning the venue, the flowers, the music and lighting—something not much different to helping her mother and her sister, Skye, with the wedding planning. But listening to the words themselves…no. It was the last thing she’d considered doing.

She should have expected it. On the wedding side, the choice of vows was often reviewed, the best man’s speech screened, and sometimes even written for him, and the toasts at the reception were often tweaked when requested by the clients.

Tara walked back to her desk and dropped into the large red chair. Listening to the amazing sweet nothings they uttered, even his—she looked at the door—was getting to her, reminding her of what she didn’t have.

She could get a boyfriend…But—

She looked around her office, all red and white, all hearts and romance. The perfect setting for helping everyone else’s boyfriends who were too busy, or too romantically-challenged, to come up with the perfect proposal plans on their own.

She wished she could help herself.

She ran a hand over her face. It helped to be busy—have the business to run, the books to look after, the bills to pay, weddings to help organise with her sister or her mum. And now her proposal planning, something her sisters weren’t already doing, could take up the rest of her time efficiently and effectively.

She loved that she could complement the business with another service, one all of her own. Men were good to deal with. Not too emotional, not too mushy or sensitive. Not like some of the women her sister, Skye, had to deal with in the wedding planning. And the mothers!

Tara flicked the page over on the folder on her desk and scanned the appointments for the wedding boutique, cataloguing her involvement.

She tapped her pen on her bottom lip. So many variables…How many more weddings could her mother and Skye take on without putting on more staff? When would Skye be at work full time? How could they cut costs but increase clientele? How were they going to pay for that advertising campaign they’d had done?

Tara bit the end of the pen. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed for them to move from their home base to these professional offices until they had more cash flow…

The rap on the door was sharp and short.

‘Come in.’

Camelot’s secretary-cum-receptionist walked in, a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand. She was a young woman fresh out of college, running over with enthusiasm.

‘Is Mr Faulkner getting better yet?’ Maggie grinned. ‘The way he’s going his mystery woman will be eighty before he gets to proposing.’

Tara shrugged, trying not to smile at the girl’s appraisal of the situation. He just didn’t seem to have enough confidence in himself to follow through and his embarrassment seemed so acute that he’d kept all the details from Tara. Maybe just in case he mucked it up or lost the nerve altogether to go through with the proposal. ‘It’s the clients’ choice on how private they choose to be about their lives.’

Maggie nodded, stepping to the desk. ‘And how’d that new client go? The one where the father wanted you to give the bloke a hand?’

Tara took the cup from her, shaking her head. ‘It was a no go.’

‘Better luck next time, yeah?’ Maggie chirped, spun on her heel and strode to the door. ‘At least you have Mr Faulkner.’

When Mr Steel had turned up at her office Tara had been more than surprised. The patriarch of social circles in Sydney on her doorstep? It had been a shock. It was unreal, and very unusual for the father to be coming in, rather than the man himself.

She leant back in her chair. Tara had hung on the man’s every word, trying to work out how the whole situation was possible. How could he know that Mr Keene was ready to propose? Or had Mr Steel just become sick of waiting for the man to get serious?

Mr Thomas Steel didn’t seem like the sort of man that needed a lot of patience…

Tara picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip. How did Mr Steel think that a man like Mr Keene would ever accept help? Was it just blind hope in thinking that he could encourage the guy into a commitment to his daughter?

She felt for the man despite the wild-goose chase he’d sent her on. The way he spoke about losing his wife and being bewildered in the area of his daughter’s personal life had touched her heart. Despite not having any idea, he was determined to ensure her happiness in any way he could.

Tara’s chest constricted. She wished her own father could have cared like this man obviously did about his daughter.

Tara closed the folder and slid it into the drawer. It was probably a good thing that Mr Keene hadn’t agreed to her help. She wasn’t afraid of a handsome man who had it all, but she wasn’t happy with that strange feeling in the pit of her stomach when he had looked at her with his emerald green eyes.

It scared her right down to her toes.

CHAPTER THREE

TARA picked the phone up with one hand, still typing in the last figure of the week’s expenses into the computer. ‘Tara Andrews.’

‘Tara, Steel here, returning your call,’ he said easily. ‘How did you go?’

The man himself. She sucked in her breath. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Steel, but Mr Keene is quite happy to handle his own plans.’

‘He is?’

‘He was quite adamant.’ Tara wiped the specks of dirt off the keyboard. She wished she could have given the doting father better news.

‘You did tell him what you could offer? That you could take care of all the details so there’d be minimum disruption to him. That virtually all he’d have to do was get down on his knee and ask the question.’

‘Not in not so many words.’

‘What’s a bit of his time to make sure that the special moment is going to be absolutely magical for my daughter?’ the man huffed.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Steel, but Mr Keene has made his decision. There’s nothing I can do.’

‘Okay. Understood.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been thinking that it could be advantageous for you to meet the couple.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir,’ she said evenly, the thought unsettling her. The last thing she wanted was to see the man and experience that feeling again, let alone with the woman who was his soon-to-be-bride.

‘Of course she won’t know who you are or what you’re helping Patrick with, my dear.’

‘But—’ Wasn’t the man listening? Didn’t he hear that Patrick didn’t want her help?

‘You’ll get an idea of the sort of person she is so that you can help Patrick with his proposal.’

She gripped the phone tightly. ‘Mr Steel, he has said no to my help. My hands are tied.’

‘Would you come anyway? It would mean a lot to me if you just gave him a little more time to think about it. He probably made a snap decision.’

Tara swallowed hard. Mr Keene may have done that all right. He’d made up his mind the moment she’d introduced herself—the look in his eyes had said it all.

She tapped her pen against her desk. Could it hurt to pander to Mr Steel? She didn’t want the man to be upset on her account. ‘I’m not making any promises,’ she said slowly. ‘If Mr Keene comes to me and asks me for my help…’

‘Great. Wonderful. There’s a charity dinner tonight that we’re all attending, which would be the ideal situation for you to meet him…them…us.’

‘Tonight?’ A knot formed deep in her stomach. ‘This is rather short notice, sir.’

‘If you can be there around seven. I’ll add your name to the list.’ He rattled off the address of one of Sydney’s top hotels and hung up.

Tara stared at the phone, then at her computer screen.

She re-positioned herself in the chair, her muscles tight, an unpleasant queasiness brewing deep in her body.

She had to look on the bright side. Mr Steel had got what he’d wanted, for now, even though she couldn’t see that she could do anything for a man as strong and confident as Patrick Keene. No meant no.

Tara glanced at her watch, jerking to her feet. She didn’t have time to mull over her acceptance of the invitation. She’d just have time to get ready.

She picked up her handbag and jacket and strode to the door. She was stressing over nothing. All she would have to achieve tonight was to present a good image to Mr Steel, showing him her dedication and her commitment. So maybe when Mr Keene did get around to proposing, they’d use Camelot for the wedding.

She only hoped that Mr Keene didn’t take her presence tonight the wrong way…his bark seemed as though it could be intense, and his bite lethal.

Rick slipped his arm around Kasey’s shoulder and pulled her a little closer to him. It should have been second nature by now to play the role of Kasey’s boyfriend, but he still felt awkward.

He didn’t know whether it was because Kasey was his best friend’s little sister. Or because of the lies they were perpetrating.

At least they weren’t hurting anyone.

Rick glanced at Steel. And it was about time that Kasey scored a few points of her own.

He smiled, trying to look casual, trying to look like he was enjoying being here with Kasey and her father. The only good here tonight was the chance to support the children’s hospital.

The charity event was a full-on affair complete with a thirty-piece orchestra, ice sculptures and caviare. All the stops had been pulled out to woo the rich into delving deep into their pockets for the kids.

He’d never needed any encouragement.

Kasey elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Lighten up, Rick.’

‘I’m trying.’ Rick looked down into Kasey’s face, pretty and painted, soft and round, her hair all pulled up and elegant-looking.

‘Try harder.’

Rick hadn’t told Kasey about the proposal planner idea her father had come up with. It was hardly worth mentioning since he’d taken care of it. She probably would have chucked a fit at her father’s interference, again.

What had possessed the man to come up with the crack-pot scheme? Help with proposing…He could do it with his eyes shut, if he cared to.

Sure, he hadn’t thought of what he’d say to a woman, but it wasn’t like he’d come close to wanting to. His relationships had always been fleeting.

‘How’s things with you?’ Rick had hardly seen Kasey at all the past few weeks, their public outings being pruned back to the point of being non-existent.

‘Good. Really good. You know that certain special someone…’ She smiled warmly. ‘I think I’m in love. Truly in love. He’s amazing, sweet and totally wonderful.’

Rick smiled down at her bright face. ‘So, you don’t need me any more?’

She punched him gently on the shoulder, a grin on her face a mile wide. ‘Come on. I’m not going to come clean just yet. I don’t want Father to scare Jack away.’

Rick lifted an eyebrow. ‘Your father hasn’t scared me away.’

‘Yet.’ She shook her head. ‘As far as my father’s concerned you’re not good enough for me either.’

‘Probably not.’ He had the sneaking suspicion that no one, ever, was going to be good enough for his daughter. It was one of the reasons he had decided to go through with this. Kasey would never find someone if the old man ran them all off before she’d had a chance to get to know them.

He pulled his shoulders back. Nothing could replace her brother in her life but he could be there when she needed him. It was the least he could do for his buddy’s little sister.

He gritted his teeth. If only he could take back that night in their final year. If only he’d slowed Colin up on the drinking that night. If only he hadn’t left the car keys where Colin could find them. He clenched his jaw.

When the police had come the next morning Rick had had no idea what was going on. He’d thought Colin was in bed, not wrapped around some tree down the road.

Asking him to make that promise to look after Kasey was the last thing his best friend had said to him. And there was no way on the planet that he was going to break it.

Kasey had only been twelve. Poor kid. And old man Steel, after losing his wife, then his only son, had gone all out to protect Kasey from everything, including life.

Kasey nudged him in the ribs, a grin on her face. ‘You look like you’re at a funeral. I know these things are dead boring—’

‘But for a good cause.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Think of something happy.’

That proposal planner came to mind. The way she moved, the way she talked, the passion in her every word, her smile…

At any other time he’d have enjoyed peeling her cool, calculated layers until he found the vibrant woman that pulsed underneath. What a challenge it would be to release the passion he saw in her eyes and heard in her voice, breaking away her cool crust entirely.

His body heated at the thought.

Kasey grinned. ‘Much better.’ She turned to face the room, drawing him closer to her as though they were posing for photos.

Rick cast a glance at her father, who was by the ice sculpture. He was leaning his stocky frame against the table, his snowy-white hair making him look more like Father Christmas than Attila the Hun.

Kasey looked up at him with wide eyes, chewing her thumb nail. ‘I’m starting to think he knows something’s up.’

‘How?’ They’d gone to great lengths to be seen around together, at all the right places, at just the right times to get noticed. And all the right gossip was being circulated. For Kasey, and for him.

‘I have no idea. Maybe he feels there’s no passion.’ She pouted. ‘You know how Dad loves to interfere in my life, so please make this good. Or my life is going to be hell again.’

‘Sure. Of course I can.’ It wasn’t much to ask really. He could do this. Acting like her serious boyfriend was nothing to give her some peace. And if it secured him a reputation and the presidency of the merged companies, all the better.

He cupped Kasey’s face and looked down softly into her eyes, thinking of wild hair cuts, deep dark eyes and deep red lips.

‘I should probably say something really romantic to make you blush,’ he said softly to her.

‘Yep.’

Rick leant closer. ‘What do you give an elephant with big feet?’ he whispered. ‘A lot of room.’

Kasey giggled and fell into his arms. ‘Dope—’

Rick held her, smiling. He scanned the lavish room, the marble pillars of the foyer obscuring his view of the milling people.

The men were all suited, as he was, in black. The women were richly dressed in fine gowns and fur wraps with heavy jewellery glittering left, right and centre.

Steel kept glancing in his direction. He was either sizing him up for a coffin or as a prize on his mantel-piece. Rick shifted awkwardly; neither felt good.

Rick looked over Kasey’s head to the foyer, slipping his hand into his pocket and gripping his car keys tightly. Would anyone notice if they left—? If this relationship were for real they would have slipped out of this stiff affair and found somewhere quieter, with soft lights and romantic music.

His breath caught in his throat. Could he be dreaming?

The proposal planner stood in the foyer, her body moulded by a white dress that clung to her curves like a second skin. The fabric stopped just below her knees, her feet were in white heels, a light wrap was draped around her shoulders, a plain gold chain around her neck.

Her hair was as wild as ever, and a deep red lipstick made her lips all the more alluring.

She looked amazing. She stood tall, her chin up and her eyes drifting across the people in the room. Cool and aloof and in total control.

Tara Andrews.

Heat flooded his body. She was disturbing in every way. Hell. He took several deep breaths, trying to quell his body’s response and act like the devoted boyfriend and not as though his interests were straying.

The chatter in the room subsided. Rick tore his eyes from her to glance around him. There was more than one man intrigued by this surprise arrival.

No matter how cool her façade, there was no camouflaging her powerful presence, her height or her curves in that dress.

What the hell was she doing here?

Thomas Steel walked to her side without hesitation, leaning close, his white hair almost touching her cheek. The look of pure delight on the old man’s face stabbed Rick deep in the chest. What was he up to?

She smiled.

Rick’s gut pulled tight.

Thomas touched her elbow and steered her through his guests, directly towards them.

Rick sucked in his breath. What was going on? He stiffened. He stared at the painting on the far wall instead, avoiding looking at the newcomer. The naked busty woman did little to distract him—the art was rich and overdone.

The colours of the painting blurred. He’d just have to do his best to ignore the planner’s allure and what she did to his body.

Steel clapped him on his shoulder. ‘I’d like you to meet Tara, a friend of mine. This is my daughter, Kasey, and her boyfriend, Patrick.’

Rick forced himself to move, to smile, to breathe. His attention drifted to her face.

Tara’s eyes were shining with a steadfast calm and serene assurance. ‘Hello.’

‘Nice to meet you, Tara,’ Kasey said, running her gaze over the woman, then glancing at Rick.

‘Likewise,’ Tara offered, her voice warm, moving her attention from Kasey to him casually.

Rick swallowed. ‘Pleased to meet you, Tara.’

Tara lifted an eyebrow, feeling the rise of heat in her cheeks, her name on his lips coursing through her veins like molten lava.

She took his hand, grasping it, forcing a smile. He felt good…and strong…and warm…and his touch made her skin tingle.

Patrick gripped her hand more tightly. ‘Have you and Thomas known each other long?’

‘Oh…ages,’ Mr Steel injected. ‘I’ll leave you two to look after our newest guest.’ And he winked at her.

She extricated her hand from Patrick’s, stroking her palm against her hip as though she was smoothing her dress, trying to dispel the buzz of sensation on her skin.

This was crazy. She shouldn’t have come. She liked being in her office and offering advice, not being dragged into the field.

And what a field. This place was incredible. With tall columns through the enormous rooms.

The ceilings inside had to be at least three metres high, the cornice elaborate, the walls painted a rich lemon colour and adorned with golden-framed paintings and mirrors.

Tara stepped a little further away from the couple, closer to the marble statue of a naked woman carrying a jug. She feigned an interest in the unusual sofas, with sculpted edges that resembled wings and a deep blue upholstery dotted with gold and edged with a matching brocade.

Everything was decorated lavishly, including Miss Steel.

Tara forced herself to face the woman who had captured Patrick Keene’s heart. She could have been a model—her chestnut hair was swept up to the top of her head, diamond encrusted earrings dangled from her ears and she wore a black dress that was to die for. And the emerald green silk wrap was exquisite. As she was.

She had everything. A father devoted to her, and a man like Patrick Keene in love with her, about to ask her to share his life with him.

Tara swallowed hard, trying to still the needs stirring deep inside her. She couldn’t begrudge Kasey having the perfect life, and she couldn’t let this singe her hard-won control.

‘How do you know my father?’

She looked across the room to where Thomas Steel was merrily chatting to a group of people. She hadn’t expected this. She’d thought she’d be observing the loving couple from afar, not thrown amongst them like fresh meat to the wolves.

‘How do I know your father?’ Tara repeated, her mind scrambling for an answer. ‘Business.’

‘What sort of business?’ Kasey asked.

Tara shot Patrick a look. ‘You could say I’m a problem solver.’

Patrick crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘And if people don’t want their problems solved?’

His words impaled her. He must think she was stalking him! ‘Then they’re not going to call me,’ she said as calmly as she could.

‘And if someone else does?’ Patrick asked, his voice deep and velvet smooth.

‘Then the person that called me must care a lot,’ Tara said easily. ‘But I can’t help if the client doesn’t want any help.’

‘Well, this is all fascinating and terribly obvious.’ Kasey fanned herself with her hand. ‘But I think I need a drink. Are you coming, Rick?’

‘In one minute,’ Rick offered, smiling at his girlfriend and then turning to Tara, as though he was dealing with nothing more significant than tying a loose shoe-lace, or swatting a fly or squashing a bug.

Kasey shrugged and sauntered towards the bar.

A tense silence enveloped them.

She stared at Patrick’s mouth, pressed thin, her breath solidifying in her throat. She didn’t want to be the bug! No matter how tall, dark or rich he was.

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