often tweaked when requested by the clients.
Tara walked back to her desk and dropped into the large red chair. Listening to the amazing sweet nothings they uttered, even his—she looked at the door—was getting to her, reminding her of what she didn’t have.
She could get a boyfriend…But—
She looked around her office, all red and white, all hearts and romance. The perfect setting for helping everyone else’s boyfriends who were too busy, or too romantically-challenged, to come up with the perfect proposal plans on their own.
She wished she could help herself.
She ran a hand over her face. It helped to be busy—have the business to run, the books to look after, the bills to pay, weddings to help organise with her sister or her mum. And now her proposal planning, something her sisters weren’t already doing, could take up the rest of her time efficiently and effectively.
She loved that she could complement the business with another service, one all of her own. Men were good to deal with. Not too emotional, not too mushy or sensitive. Not like some of the women her sister, Skye, had to deal with in the wedding planning. And the mothers!
Tara flicked the page over on the folder on her desk and scanned the appointments for the wedding boutique, cataloguing her involvement.
She tapped her pen on her bottom lip. So many variables…How many more weddings could her mother and Skye take on without putting on more staff? When would Skye be at work full time? How could they cut costs but increase clientele? How were they going to pay for that advertising campaign they’d had done?
Tara bit the end of the pen. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed for them to move from their home base to these professional offices until they had more cash flow…
The rap on the door was sharp and short.
‘Come in.’
Camelot’s secretary-cum-receptionist walked in, a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand. She was a young woman fresh out of college, running over with enthusiasm.
‘Is Mr Faulkner getting better yet?’ Maggie grinned. ‘The way he’s going his mystery woman will be eighty before he gets to proposing.’
Tara shrugged, trying not to smile at the girl’s appraisal of the situation. He just didn’t seem to have enough confidence in himself to follow through and his embarrassment seemed so acute that he’d kept all the details from Tara. Maybe just in case he mucked it up or lost the nerve altogether to go through with the proposal. ‘It’s the clients’ choice on how private they choose to be about their lives.’
Maggie nodded, stepping to the desk. ‘And how’d that new client go? The one where the father wanted you to give the bloke a hand?’
Tara took the cup from her, shaking her head. ‘It was a no go.’
‘Better luck next time, yeah?’ Maggie chirped, spun on her heel and strode to the door. ‘At least you have Mr Faulkner.’
When Mr Steel had turned up at her office Tara had been more than surprised. The patriarch of social circles in Sydney on her doorstep? It had been a shock. It was unreal, and very unusual for the father to be coming in, rather than the man himself.
She leant back in her chair. Tara had hung on the man’s every word, trying to work out how the whole situation was possible. How could he know that Mr Keene was ready to propose? Or had Mr Steel just become sick of waiting for the man to get serious?
Mr Thomas Steel didn’t seem like the sort of man that needed a lot of patience…
Tara picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip. How did Mr Steel think that a man like Mr Keene would ever accept help? Was it just blind hope in thinking that he could encourage the guy into a commitment to his daughter?
She felt for the man despite the wild-goose chase he’d sent her on. The way he spoke about losing his wife and being bewildered in the area of his daughter’s personal life had touched her heart. Despite not having any idea, he was determined to ensure her happiness in any way he could.
Tara’s chest constricted. She wished her own father could have cared like this man obviously did about his daughter.
Tara closed the folder and slid it into the drawer. It was probably a good thing that Mr Keene hadn’t agreed to her help. She wasn’t afraid of a handsome man who had it all, but she wasn’t happy with that strange feeling in the pit of her stomach when he had looked at her with his emerald green eyes.
It scared her right down to her toes.
CHAPTER THREE
TARA picked the phone up with one hand, still typing in the last figure of the week’s expenses into the computer. ‘Tara Andrews.’
‘Tara, Steel here, returning your call,’ he said easily. ‘How did you go?’
The man himself. She sucked in her breath. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Steel, but Mr Keene is quite happy to handle his own plans.’
‘He is?’
‘He was quite adamant.’ Tara wiped the specks of dirt off the keyboard. She wished she could have given the doting father better news.
‘You did tell him what you could offer? That you could take care of all the details so there’d be minimum disruption to him. That virtually all he’d have to do was get down on his knee and ask the question.’
‘Not in not so many words.’
‘What’s a bit of his time to make sure that the special moment is going to be absolutely magical for my daughter?’ the man huffed.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Steel, but Mr Keene has made his decision. There’s nothing I can do.’
‘Okay. Understood.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been thinking that it could be advantageous for you to meet the couple.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir,’ she said evenly, the thought unsettling her. The last thing she wanted was to see the man and experience that feeling again, let alone with the woman who was his soon-to-be-bride.
‘Of course she won’t know who you are or what you’re helping Patrick with, my dear.’
‘But—’ Wasn’t the man listening? Didn’t he hear that Patrick didn’t want her help?
‘You’ll get an idea of the sort of person she is so that you can help Patrick with his proposal.’
She gripped the phone tightly. ‘Mr Steel, he has said no to my help. My hands are tied.’
‘Would you come anyway? It would mean a lot to me if you just gave him a little more time to think about it. He probably made a snap decision.’
Tara swallowed hard. Mr Keene may have done that all right. He’d made up his mind the moment she’d introduced herself—the look in his eyes had said it all.
She tapped her pen against her desk. Could it hurt to pander to Mr Steel?
