was love—a sound marriage—based on, anyway? Respect and support of mutual goals. Not wild, lust-driven emotions for someone who was so obviously her opposite. Daniel exuded a blistering energy that would likely set off fireworks in any woman’s central nervous system. He was insanely handsome, charismatic and confident. From what she’d seen of it, his tall, toned physique was exceptional. His personality was cheeky. Intriguing.
Like his see-all blue eyes.
Out of the tub and drying off, Scarlet crossed into her bedroom’s walk-in closet. Her fingers skimmed business skirts and after-five dresses. When she paused at a pair of jeans, she remembered the way the denim had hugged Daniel’s muscled thighs today and a breath fluttered in her throat. She didn’t often wear jeans. Cruisy Daniel McNeal might suggest she didn’t wear them often enough. But she wasn’t dressing for him tonight. Or any other night, for that matter.
Before pulling on a light angora sweater and black tailored pants, she called a cab and pulled a bottle of Chablis from the fridge. Because of her condition, Cara wouldn’t drink but Scarlet could go one or two herself tonight.
Scarlet soon arrived at Max Grayson’s address. Her friend answered the door to the penthouse with a welcoming smile.
“Come on in,” Cara said, stepping aside. “I was about to call you.”
“I’m a little late. I indulged in a lovely long bath….”
Stepping over the threshold, Scarlet’s words trailed off. A voice was filtering out from the living room into the foyer. A man’s voice. Deep. Rumbling. She frowned.
Cara had said Max would be working late.
Then another male voice replied to the first and Scarlet’s heart leaped to her instantly clogged throat. That accent was unmistakable. What was he doing here? This was supposed to be a quiet girls’ night in, not a foursome, and certainly not with Daniel McNeal.
What would she say if he mentioned those flowers? Worse, how would she react if he smiled at her that certain unsettling way? She’d bet her town house he’d find an excuse to prowl into her off-limits personal space.
Scarlet took a shaky step back.
She had to go.
“You said Max was working late.”
“He surprised me.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
Laughing softly, Cara urged her friend forward. “You’re not interrupting, silly. In fact, there’s someone here we’d like you to meet.”
Scarlet’s thoughts and stomach lurched. She needed an excuse. Needed to get out of here fast. But Cara had a hold of her arm now and, with each doubtful step, those voices grew louder, clearer. A series of internal brushfires ignited, pumping forbidden heat through her veins, leaving her feeling flushed and all the more flustered. Then she and Cara stood beneath an arch that led into the living room and two pair of eyes glanced their way.
She was vaguely aware of Max’s smile, his standing to greet her and saying hello. She was a thousand times more attuned to the presence of that other man. As Daniel’s lidded gaze embraced hers, she was consumed by sensations that were so powerful and bright she felt as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.
Cara introduced her. “Daniel McNeal, I’d like you to meet a dear friend, Scarlet Anders.”
With a knowing grin, Daniel languidly pushed to his feet. “We’ve met.”
“You have?” Blinking, Cara’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them. “Where? When? You’ve only been in town a day.”
In her daze, Scarlet recognized that Daniel had swapped jeans for custom-made dark trousers and a crisp white shirt. As he strolled over, his polished lace-ups gleamed in the track lighting and a gold cuff link flashed as he extended a big bronzed hand. Without thinking, she accepted the gesture and that lightning bolt struck again, zapping and sizzling up her arm until, with a starburst, it hit her chest as well as a little south of her navel. It didn’t help when his fingers wrapped around hers and squeezed just a little like they had earlier that day.
“We met this morning,” he said, then proceeded to fill his audience in on how he’d shown up at DC Affairs and saved her from that stepladder fall.
“Thank God you were there,” Cara said while Scarlet pried her gaze away from Daniel’s to concentrate on the fact that he still held her hand. Bringing herself back to the conversation, she gently pulled her hand away.
“I’ve already thanked Mr. McNeal for his help.”
“Mr. McNeal?” Cara pulled a wry face. “You’re not at the office now. Let me take that bottle of wine. Max, can you pour Scarlet a drink? Something with bubbles to celebrate friends coming together.”
Scarlet’s attention skirted around Daniel’s frame. Max was headed for the bar, but he looked quizzically over his shoulder at his two guests, as if he knew something he shouldn’t. Had Daniel already confided in his friend the fact that they’d met? That he’d asked her out to dinner? If that were the case, surely Max would have mentioned she was dating someone….
Although Max had only once seen her with Everett, and her date had spent half the time away from their table on his cell. Understandable. Even forgivable. Everett’s services were in high demand.
Daniel was escorting her to the two sofas in the living room. Cara had lowered onto the three-seater. Max, having handed over a chilled glass of champagne to their latest guest, was joining her. Left with no choice, Scarlet sank onto the two-seater, and Daniel sat beside her. Finding his glass—containing what looked like a soda—he proposed a toast.
“To rescuing a damsel in distress.”
Raising her own lime soda, Cara beamed. “Hear, hear. Although I’ve never known Scarlet to need saving before.”
Daniel’s brows arched and a sexy bracket formed at one side of his mouth as he smiled. “Is that so?”
“Of all my friends, Scarlet is the one least likely to crumple under pressure.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Scarlet was thinking of Ariella and how well she’d handled the recent media attention. She doubted, put in the same situation, she’d handle that kind of news with anything less than a lock-me-away-for-a-month meltdown.
“Scarlet, honestly.” Cara set her glass on the coffee table. “In your world, nothing’s ever out of place. You invented the word poise.”
“Begs the question, doesn’t it? What do you do to unwind?” Daniel asked casually while Scarlet, her mind gone blank, clasped her hands in her lap.
To unwind? “Well … I, er, like to ski.”
“Me, too.” Daniel laughed. “On the water, though, not in Aspen.”
Scarlet didn’t allow herself to imagine him in bathing shorts. Those shoulders, that chest … Lord, she might hyperventilate.
“I like to read and go to the theater,” she added.
Daniel
