A Professional Engagement

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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