Darcy Maguire - A Professional Engagement

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.

‘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.