A Professional Engagement. Darcy Maguire

extricated her hand from Patrick’s, stroking her palm against her hip as though she was smoothing her dress, trying to dispel the buzz of sensation on her skin.

      This was crazy. She shouldn’t have come. She liked being in her office and offering advice, not being dragged into the field.

      And what a field. This place was incredible. With tall columns through the enormous rooms.

      The ceilings inside had to be at least three metres high, the cornice elaborate, the walls painted a rich lemon colour and adorned with golden-framed paintings and mirrors.

      Tara stepped a little further away from the couple, closer to the marble statue of a naked woman carrying a jug. She feigned an interest in the unusual sofas, with sculpted edges that resembled wings and a deep blue upholstery dotted with gold and edged with a matching brocade.

      Everything was decorated lavishly, including Miss Steel.

      Tara forced herself to face the woman who had captured Patrick Keene’s heart. She could have been a model—her chestnut hair was swept up to the top of her head, diamond encrusted earrings dangled from her ears and she wore a black dress that was to die for. And the emerald green silk wrap was exquisite. As she was.

      She had everything. A father devoted to her, and a man like Patrick Keene in love with her, about to ask her to share his life with him.

      Tara swallowed hard, trying to still the needs stirring deep inside her. She couldn’t begrudge Kasey having the perfect life, and she couldn’t let this singe her hard-won control.

      ‘How do you know my father?’

      She looked across the room to where Thomas Steel was merrily chatting to a group of people. She hadn’t expected this. She’d thought she’d be observing the loving couple from afar, not thrown amongst them like fresh meat to the wolves.

      ‘How do I know your father?’ Tara repeated, her mind scrambling for an answer. ‘Business.’

      ‘What sort of business?’ Kasey asked.

      Tara shot Patrick a look. ‘You could say I’m a problem solver.’

      Patrick crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘And if people don’t want their problems solved?’

      His words impaled her. He must think she was stalking him! ‘Then they’re not going to call me,’ she said as calmly as she could.

      ‘And if someone else does?’ Patrick asked, his voice deep and velvet smooth.

      ‘Then the person that called me must care a lot,’ Tara said easily. ‘But I can’t help if the client doesn’t want any help.’

      ‘Well, this is all fascinating and terribly obvious.’ Kasey fanned herself with her hand. ‘But I think I need a drink. Are you coming, Rick?’

      ‘In one minute,’ Rick offered, smiling at his girlfriend and then turning to Tara, as though he was dealing with nothing more significant than tying a loose shoe-lace, or swatting a fly or squashing a bug.

      Kasey shrugged and sauntered towards the bar.

      A tense silence enveloped them.

      She stared at Patrick’s mouth, pressed thin, her breath solidifying in her throat. She didn’t want to be the bug! No matter how tall, dark or rich he was.