“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