Darcy Maguire - A Professional Engagement

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.’