“I sense there’s a whole lot more to Scarlet Anders and I want the chance to get to know every bit of her.”

As his gaze roamed her face, her throat, a dangerous fizzy feeling sailed through her body, calling her, drawing her, and as if tugged by an invisible string, she tipped a fraction closer, too. Then one corner of his mouth curved up and, appalled by her behavior—at her craving—she jerked back again.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re too …” She emptied her lungs, took another shallow breath. “You’re too close.”

“It’s going to be difficult,” he said. “Sitting beside you all night. Telling myself that I shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?”

In that deep drugging voice, he murmured, “Kiss you, of course.”

Dear Reader,

What more exciting place for a Mills & Boon® Desire™ series to be set than Washington, DC! So much glamour. So many secrets. Always so much at stake.

In A Wedding She’ll Never Forget, Ariella Winthrop continues to unravel the big questions surrounding her past and links to the incoming president, and investigations are underway to unmask the culprits responsible for those far-reaching White House leaks. In the meantime, work at DC Affairs—the district’s premiere party-planning company—must go on.

Ex White House PR specialist Caroline Cranshaw is getting married, and the heroine of this book—socialite and DC Affairs’s co-proprietor Scarlet Anders—intends to make her friend’s wedding everything Caroline has imagined. Only, Scarlet finds her usually pristine feathers being ruffled by the incredibly persistent, uncommonly sexy best man. Australian technology billionaire Daniel McNeal is Scarlet’s polar opposite and seems intent on stirring up all kinds of trouble for her with an annoying amount of ease. She’d sooner forget that man … if only she could.

When Scarlet’s wish comes true, it’s Daniel who suddenly finds he has trouble on his hands. And more than seduction on his mind.

Each story in this DAUGHTERS OF POWER collection is steeped in intrigue, scandal and, best of all, riveting romance. I hope you enjoy Scarlet and Daniel’s installment!

Best wishes,

Robyn

Keep up to date with Robyn’s latest releases and news at www.robyngrady.com.

About the Author

ROBYN GRADY was first published with Mills & Boon in 2007. Her books have since featured regularly on bestseller lists and at award ceremonies, including a National Readers’ Choice Award, a Booksellers’ Best Award, CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award and Australia’s prestigious Romantic Book of the Year Award.

Robyn lives on Queensland’s beautiful Sunshine Coast with her real-life hero husband and three daughters. When she can be dragged away from tapping out her next story, Robyn visits the theater, the beach and the mall (a lot!). To keep fit, she jogs (and shops) and dances with her youngest to Hannah Montana.

Robyn believes writing romance is the best job on the planet and she loves to hear from her readers. So drop by www.robyngrady.com and pass on your thoughts!

A Wedding She’ll
Never Forget
Robyn Grady

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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With thanks to my fellow Daughters of Power authors—Barbara Dunlop, Michelle Celmer, Rachel Bailey, Andrea Laurence and Jennifer Lewis. Wonderful to work with you all!

And a special shout-out for our brilliant series editor,

Charles Griemsman. Always a pleasure.

One

Angels live among us.

This one was balanced on a stepladder, decorating an arch strewn with sunflowers and sparkling cupids. Her chic upsweep of red-gold hair drew attention to the emeralds sparkling on each earlobe, jewels that paid homage to the color of her eyes. Together with a dark skirt and peach silk blouse, the package said refined as well as hold-me-back sexy.

A pair of black pumps were paired neatly at the ladder’s feet, and as she stretched to hang the final garland, one black-stockinged leg stretched out, too. Crossing his arms, Daniel McNeal butted a shoulder against the doorjamb and came to a conclusion. He’d bet all he was worth—and that was a lot—that one kiss from this angel could bring a mere mortal to his knees.

Spending time with a Washington wedding planner usually didn’t feature on his to-do list. The only reason Daniel was here now was to tend to his best mate’s upcoming nuptials. But frankly, right this minute he couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be.

Although, at a distance, she faced him, she hadn’t noticed him yet. As she finished hanging the final cupid and began her descent, he pushed off the doorjamb and, looking forward to the introduction, sauntered over. A heartbeat later, her footing somehow slipped. Gravity pulled her weight backward and, with a delicate yip, she lost her grip. As both arms swept over her head, Daniel sprinted. Lunged. Thankfully he caught her before she hit the ground.

Heart pumping, he straightened while his angel’s wide green eyes stared up at the ceiling and her chest heaved with fright. She sucked back a fortifying breath. Eventually her startled gaze found his.

“I’ve been up that ladder dozens of times,” she said. “I’ve never slipped.” The bows of her lips trembled on a grateful smile. “I really need to thank you.”

“I know the ideal way. Have dinner with me tonight.”

She coughed out a laugh. Then she blinked, frowned and looked at him hard. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Daniel McNeal.”

Recognition lit her face. “Daniel McNeal of Waves fame. The social networking site. I recognize the face now. You’re Australian, yes?”

He nodded. “And you must be Scarlet Anders.”

She was a partner here at DC Affairs with Ariella Winthrop—the woman who’d recently been labeled as the incoming president’s secret love child. The claim, made by an American News Service reporter in a toast at an inauguration gala, had set the nation back flat on its behind. The obvious question was: If Ariella was indeed President Morrow’s daughter, who was responsible for the leak? And just how deep did that fissure go?

Scarlet Anders was still gazing up at him. “So you’re here about a wedding, Mr. McNeal?”

“Yes.” He lifted her a fraction higher. “But not my own.”

As if she were pleased to hear it, her perfect smile spread. But then her eyes rounded again and she wriggled until he had no choice but to set her down on her two stockinged feet. After patting back an errant curl flopped over one eye, she straightened her skirt, slipped on her shoes.

“Much better.” Exhaling, she squared her shoulders and folded her hands loosely before her. “Now we can talk business.”

“I was fine talking the other way.” While I held you in my arms.

Her cheeks flushed a flattering shade of pink before she schooled her features and got the conversation back on track.

“So you’re here regarding a wedding?”

“I’m Max Grayson’s best man.”

Like a kid who’d found her Christmas gifts early, she tipped up on her toes and pressed her hands against her drop pearl necklace in excitement. If not for etiquette, she might have thrown out her arms and hugged him.

“Max is engaged to one of my closest friends, Caroline Cranshaw,” she said. “Every occasion DC Affairs takes on is special but we want Cara’s day to be beyond brilliant.”

“My goal exactly.”

“In that case, I’m doubly pleased to meet you, Mr. McNeal.”

When she extended her hand, he fought the urge to lift her fingers and brush his lips over the smooth underside of her wrist. Instead, he smiled, shook and ever so gently squeezed.

“Call me Daniel,” he said. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Friends.” She blinked. “Yes, of course.”

When Scarlet tugged her hand away, her palm came to rest high on her stomach before she crossed to a display table set up in this room, one of three used to present wedding ceremony themes and displays.

“I was mulling over Cara’s color scheme this morning.” Her French-tipped nails traced over satin samples until she stopped at one. He couldn’t help but notice. Third finger, left hand, no bling.

“Pastel pink is so pretty for a bride,” she said, and he chuckled.

“Unfortunately, not so hot for us guys.”

She flicked him a questioning glance before going on.

“Cara put a few suggestions forward. We’ll work together over the coming weeks to make sure both she and Max are happy.” She turned to him, holding the pink swatch she liked between them. “I appreciate you dropping in to introduce yourself. We’ll speak again at the rehearsal dinner, I’m sure.”

“Sounds official.”

“It’s meant to be fun. Relaxed.”

A grin eased across his face. “Fun and relaxed work for me.”

When he didn’t move but rather continued smiling into those entrancing spring-green eyes, she held her stomach again and asked, “Did a specific query or concern bring you here today?”

Needing to concentrate on matters other than whether Scarlet Anders drank coffee or juice with breakfast—whether she wore lace or her birthday suit to bed—he drew back, tugged an ear.

“Max and I have been good friends for many years,” he said. “We know everything there is to know about each other. Frankly, when I heard the news, I was surprised. It’s not every day a guy’s closest mate lets the world know he’s found the girl of his dreams. Given what he’d told me in the past, I’d never imagined him married. Unless you count a man being married to his work.”

She gave a faint shrug. “Priorities change.”

“Seems so. After meeting Cara, seeing them together, I’m nothing but pleased for them both—for the wedding as well as the baby on the way. He’s a lucky man to have found that kind of happiness.”

Her guarded expression softened as she lowered the swatch of material to her side. Then she caught herself and, a little embarrassed, smiled again.

“I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He cocked a brow. A romantic? He was merely making a point.

“Thing is,” he went on, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to support them on their day and beyond.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.”

“I’d hoped you’d say that, because I need your help. I’d like to inject a little fun into the whole shebang.”

“Such as?”

“I’m thinking some good ol’ Aussie humor.”

One eyebrow slowly arched. “Aussie … humor?”

“Nothing outrageous.”

Her lips twitched. “No kangaroos in bow ties, then?”

“Actually, I’d thought of flying in a couple of crocs from Kakadu.” Her face slipped before she realized he was kidding. Given that bland look, Scarlet Anders, however, was not amused.

“I’ve had the privilege of being best man for a few of my mates,” he explained. “I like to do something special on the day. It’s become a bit of a tradition.”

“Put a list together.” She laid the fabric sample down and gazed at it, straightening it twice. “I’ll give you our contact details and I’ll see what we can do. As long as what you have planned doesn’t interrupt protocol or good taste, of course.”

His jaw shifted. Apparently this angel also came with a good dollop of diva thrown in.

“I didn’t want to interrupt anything so much as add to it,” he pointed out.

“In the outback I’m sure things are far more … impromptu.”

“I don’t live in the outback. Never have.”

“Perhaps you should.” Giving him a once-over—jeans, loafers, casual button-down, cuffs folded back—she tempered her dry tone with a backhanded compliment. “I mean, you’re obviously the rugged type.”

“Now that depends on your definition of rugged.”

When his gaze penetrated hers, challenging Scarlet to look more deeply, too, she emitted a barely audible noise; she was agitated but also intrigued. Then her shoulders squared again and she headed for the door with the kind of gliding air only the refined and privileged could pull off.

“I hate to be rude,” she said, “but I’m on a tight schedule this afternoon.”

“Which brings us back to my earlier suggestion. We can talk more about my ideas over dinner.”

“Given the circumstances—” her pert nose wrinkled “—inappropriate, I’m afraid.”

His grin was wry. “I’m the guy who saved your life, remember? The thought of sharing time with me over a three-course meal can’t be that bad.”

“On the contrary—” She cut herself off. Then, cheeks pink again, she nodded cordially. Purposefully. “It was good to have met you.”

Right then he should have walked—tipped his head, said goodbye and put this whole “helping with the wedding” business behind him. Except, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been fascinated. Inexplicably, totally charmed. No getting away from the fact. His mind was made up.

His pursuit of Scarlet Anders had only begun.

When Daniel McNeal closed the distance separating them—that confident, lazy gaze fused with hers—every one of Scarlet’s senses flared up to a brilliant blue heat and the joints in her knees seemed to melt. Then her stomach muscles knotted twice over and her heartbeat throbbed through her blood so deeply she became dizzy.

This can’t be. We’ve only just met—and he’s going to kiss me?

With everything happening in agonizing slow motion, she had more than enough time to stop him—stop herself—from leaning in, letting her eyes drift shut and, for some wild half-witted reason, make the biggest mistake of her life. She needed to remember that other man, the history they’d built and the stable future they seemed destined to share.

In her mind’s eye, snapshots of her parents’ faces blinked up—smiling, approving, toasting her future happiness. If they could read her mind now—could know how her body was responding—her mother and father would probably disown her. Not that Scarlet wasn’t shocked enough for all three of them. She hadn’t been brought up to behave like this.

Clenching her hands, Scarlet broke her gaze from his, took a shaky step back and noticed another person in the room. With her mouth agape, the florist from next door was staring at Scarlet as if the usually restrained party planner had transformed into a tassel-twirling tramp.

“Katie.” Willing away the heat lighting her cheeks, Scarlet wound an ornery curl back off her burning face. “What are you doing here?”

While Daniel McNeal straightened and slotted his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, five-foot-two Katie, in her trademark orange bib-apron, edged forward.

“No one’s on reception,” Katie replied. “I came right through. Sorry. Didn’t realize you had company.”

As usual, manners kicked in. Scarlet rolled an introductory hand toward her bold but sexy guest.

“Katie Parker, meet Daniel McNeal.”

Katie said, “Pleased to meet you,” while her curious gaze raked his frame. “You look incredibly familiar,” she said. “And that name …”

Scarlet groaned to herself. No need to get into a big conversation about this man’s celebrity status, Waves or how every person in the galaxy was a member of that social media site, including herself. She only wanted her unsettling visitor gone. Needed to get her buzzing head back in the game.

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 the 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.”

“Middlebury got the treaty through with Senator Tate’s support. Word is, Middlebury’s family has been stung by hacking jobs in Britain. He’s passionate about hauling guilty parties out into the open and bringing them to justice.” Max’s voice lowered. “If they’ve asked you to appear, be sure to take your lawyer.”

Daniel groaned. “And a joyous time was had by all.”

“Don’t joke about it. They’ll pick your brains till they bleed about the fundamentals and specifics of the nebulous art of hacking. Whether you might have any ideas or leads on any likely suspects.”

“I’m not in the business of consorting with people who get their jollies from illegal activity.”

“But you are a world leader in IT. So, any ideas?”

“You mean aside from the obvious?”

“ANS.” Max hissed down the line. “That network’s ethics are questionable, and that’s being kind. If there’s no political dirt around, they’ll rustle up some grist and churn out their own. I can tell you, given Cara’s condition, she’s pleased to be away from all that.”

Daniel remembered their conversation when Max had shared his engagement news. His pregnant fiancée had walked away from her high-pressure position in the White House Press Office to work with her party-planning friends in a PR capacity. This was his in.

“Actually, I met Cara’s friend today,” he said.

“Ariella?”

“Scarlet Anders. I dropped into DC Affairs.”

“You should have called. Cara doesn’t go in every day, but she’d have been happy to show you around. What were you doing there?”

“Being a good best man.”

“You mean looking into organizing stuff? Guess we’ll have to start thinking about cars and suits and those preceremony drinks.”

Sure. Not that he drank. Ever.

“She’s an interesting woman.”

“Scarlet? Cara adores her,” Max confirmed. “Although, between you and me, she can be a little snooty. You won’t catch Scarlet Anders putting a debutante foot out of place. Her parents are pillars of Washington society and their little girl is a carbon copy of her folks. First Lady material, that one.”

Daniel grimaced. A life of unerring duty and plastic smiles? “Maybe she needs someone to show her how to loosen up.”

“That someone being you?”

“I asked her out to dinner. She said no.”

“We’re paying DC Affairs to do a job. Scarlet wouldn’t dream of mixing business with pleasure.”

“I thought she might be involved with someone.”

“Cara and I went out with her and a high-profile suit named Everett Matheson recently. Starchy personality to go with his impeccable pedigree.”

“Is it serious?”

“They were both so concerned about making sure they used the right fork and acknowledged the right people, I couldn’t tell.”

“But no kissing? Holding hands? Rubbing noses?”

“She straightened his tie at one stage.”

Daniel grinned. “You won’t turn me off. You know how I love a challenge.”

“I know how much you like laid-back and that, my friend, is something Scarlet Anders is not. Poised, admired, even snobbish, yes. She’d rather stab herself in the heart than pick her teeth in public.”

Daniel thought about how he loved to shovel popcorn while watching a game. How he abhorred routine and attending functions because it was expected. He recalled how he got off on revving his motorbike to the max down the Great Ocean Road when the urge struck. Then he imagined Scarlet sitting behind him wearing Catwoman leathers, clinging on, arms lashed around his waist with the wind making flying ribbons of her long red hair. At least he guessed that, when it was free, her hair was long. Past her shoulders. Maybe halfway down her back.

He smiled.

Bet it felt like satin.

Daniel pushed to his feet. “Think I’ll ask her out again.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I have a good feeling.”

Max chuckled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Max had to answer another incoming call and the men signed off. Daniel dialed the number for the committee and, putting justice rather than his own aversions first, agreed to come in when requested. Then for the next couple of hours he battled over that other, far more enticing matter.

He’d decided against calling Scarlet. He didn’t like the idea of showing up again unannounced. He’d had an idea earlier. Around three, he had it perfected.

He’d heard Max about the Everett Matheson character being a contender. But Scarlet wasn’t spoken for, and Daniel’s fair and reasonable barometer said, Go for it. She might be playing near impossible to get but she was definitely interested.

After some research on the web, he chose a florist located near Scarlet’s place of business.

“I need some flowers delivered as soon as possible today,” he told the woman who answered the phone. “An added charge is no problem.”

“I’ll deliver them myself,” she assured him. “What kind?”

“They’re called heaven’s trumpets.” To complement an angel. When a silence followed, he prodded. “Something wrong?”

“You’re aware that plant is highly toxic.”

Bending close to his laptop’s screen, he scrolled down, read on. Damn. “I missed that.”

“They are beautiful blooms, distinct perfume—”

“And poisonous.” He couldn’t see Scarlet Anders chewing on a petal, still … not the message he wanted to send.

The woman went on, “Could I suggest something more traditional. Perhaps roses.”

“I don’t do traditional.”

Unless …

As the idea took shape, Daniel explained what he had in mind and, laughing, the woman on the other end of the line assured him that his instructions would be followed to a T. When details for the bouquet were set, he gave his name and credit card details as well as Scarlet’s name and address.

The woman coughed as if she’d lost her breath. His jaw shifted. “You okay?”

With a smile in her vaguely familiar voice, the woman replied, “Mr. McNeal, I’m positively floating.”

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