“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.”
Three
When Ariella stopped shaking and had gathered herself enough to be on her way—taking with her the paper that confirmed she was, indeed, the president’s daughter—Scarlet traveled back to work.
On the road, her mind kept wheeling back over the fact that Ted Morrow would have received the positive results by now, too. Scarlet pitied Ariella the media attention that would multiply tenfold now, particularly from the hyenas at ANS who had first broken the paternity scandal wide open. Hopefully some good would come from all this, though. A father and his daughter being reunited for one. And maybe the story wouldn’t end there….
The president was a bachelor. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, after all these years, Ted Morrow and Ariella’s mother were not only reintroduced but married? What an amazing ceremony that would be. And, after a lifetime of separation, Ariella would have her biological family back again.
For the rest of the afternoon, Scarlet was kept busy with inquiries as well as putting the finishing touches to a client’s big day to be held at the Washington National Cathedral. Girls dreamed of one day walking down the aisle of that gothic-inspired masterpiece. The famed Canterbury Cathedral had supplied the stone from which the pulpit was carved. Memorials to persons and events of national significance were on display, including statues of presidents Washington and Lincoln. Seals were embedded in the narthex’s marble floor and the nave was lined with state flags.
Heading into her office, Scarlet smiled.
Only in D.C.
But before any bride and groom could consider the National Cathedral as a venue, at least one of three strict requirements must be met, which Everett’s family did. The bride or groom could have an alumnus connection with a cathedral school. The bride or groom or immediate family member could be employed by the cathedral. Or the bride, groom or immediate family member might be a prominent donor or significant volunteer. Apparently Everett and his parents donated regularly and extremely well when the plate was passed around.. He’d even mentioned the night before, after the proposal, about submitting a request for him and Scarlet to be married there. At the time Scarlet had thought not of herself but of her parents; how ridiculously proud they would be. Then she’d imagined her mother poring over the arrangements, particularly the highly prized invitations list. Faith Anders would want to include everyone who mattered. Everett’s parents would feel the same way.
Given her parents’ social standing, Scarlet had always known that her own special day would be big, with every convention not only followed but prominently displayed. She’d organized enough of those weddings to know they could be exhausting for the bride. But then anything worthwhile usually was.
As Scarlet packed up for the day, her thoughts wandered more. What kind of a wedding would Daniel McNeal want? Something casual. Even zany, perhaps. Certainly nothing that would suit her needs or taste. Anyway, Mr. McNeal didn’t strike her as the marrying kind.
About to head out, she stopped to catch a private call on her cell.
“Ariella rang,” Cara Cranshaw began. “She left a message. I only got ahold of her now. She told me the results.”
“I wonder when the paparazzi will get wind of the news. No offense.”
“Believe me, Max doesn’t like the way this was handled by the press any more than we do.”
Max Grayson had been a reporter before switching to an off-camera role.
“How was Ariella when she left you?” Cara asked.
“Resigned to the fact that nothing will ever be the same.” Scarlet closed her office door behind her.
“I asked her over. I figured she might need some company but she said she’d rather be alone tonight.”
Scarlet had thought about offering her friend company, as well. “I’ll text and say we’re here if she needs us.”
“What are you doing tonight?” Cara asked. “I’m staying at Max’s place, but he’s working until late. Your man’s out of town for a few days, isn’t he?”
Moving toward the front reception area, Scarlet’s thoughts skidded to a halt. By “your man,” Cara had meant Everett, but for some crazy reason Daniel McNeal’s face had flashed in her mind. As if he were standing before her now, with that crooked grin and sexy dark blond bed-hair, awareness rippled through her, making every one of her extremities tingle.
Totally inappropriate.
Back straight, she continued on her way, picking up the thread of the conversation.
“One of Everett’s New York clients needed some figures evaluated.”
“Why don’t you come over, then?” Cara said. “We can dabble with details for the reception. I’m still torn about a color scheme.”
Scarlet hesitated. Now that Ariella didn’t want company tonight, she’d half thought about forgetting the outside world for a while and chilling out with a glass of wine. But she adored Cara’s company. And aside from the fun of discussing her friend’s wedding, she did have her own bit of news to share.
Or should she wait for the ring to be on her finger? For Everett to return from New York … There really wasn’t any rush.
“Sure.” Scarlet breezed