No Ring Required. Laura Wright

      “How strange, yet lovely.”

      “He has over sixty guests.”

      “Lovely for us, too, then.”

      Tess laughed. “So, where were you?”

      Obviously Olivia hadn’t told her about Ethan.

      “That new client Olivia was telling me about?”

      Or not. Mary glanced through the mail on the desk. “Yes. Ethan Curtis. CEO of Harrington Corp. and old-money wannabe.”

      “Harrington Corp.? Isn’t that your family’s insurance company.”

      Mary nodded. “Was. Before Ethan Curtis took it over.”

      “Interesting that he’d hire you,” Tess said nonchalantly, taking another scone, but only fiddling with it on her plate.

      “I’ve got the blue-blood background he’s looking for,” Mary explained. “In many respects.

      “Olivia said he was pretty good-looking.”

      “I suppose he is.”

      “A clean-shaven Colin Farrell with the body of a construction worker, is what she said, I think.”

      “That’s incredibly specific. She saw him for like five seconds.”

      “Just be careful,” Tess said, her tone serious.

      Such a strong warning from a woman who rarely got involved in the personal matters of her partners made Mary’s defenses perk up. “He’s just a client, Tess.”

      “Of course. Sure. But you know, it’s always better to be safe, kid. Expect an agenda and you won’t get hurt.” She picked up her scone and pointed it at Mary. “You never know the true character of a person or what they’re really after.”

      Whenever Tess spoke in this cryptic way, Mary had the burning desire to ask her what she meant by it, and maybe where the cynicism was coming from. But the women of NRR kept their pasts in the past. As for Tess’s concern over Ethan Curtis’s character, Mary wasn’t flying blind—she knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. But her partner’s advice was sound. After what had happened today, how she’d felt standing so close to him, as though she were frozen solid and he was a very inviting campfire, she had to be careful—adopt the all-business facade she normally wore with such ease and comfort.

      “I’ll watch my back.” She tossed her partner a reassuring grin. “But in the meantime, Mr. Curtis has given me five days to plan a very swanky event. I’d better get on it.” She paused over the plate of scones. “Damn that Olivia,” she grumbled, grabbing one and heading toward her office.

      In the past Ethan had used a local catering company for his parties. A boutique-type place, very upscale and guaranteed to impress. Their food had always been good, though at times unrecognizable. But, in his opinion, the menu and service had always felt cold and impersonal, not really his speed. For years he’d gone along with the very fancy, tasteless hors d’oeuvres, prickly flower arrangements and silent waitstaff because, well, he’d been to several events with just that type of vibe and everyone had seemed to enjoy themselves.

      Then he’d asked Mary Kelley to plan his event.

      When she’d come to him with the menu and details of what she had planned, he’d worried. Would his stuffy clientele appreciate her vision?

      Ethan glanced around his home. Clearly, he’d worried for no reason. In five short days she’d transformed the entire first floor of his home into a relaxed, candlelit lounge, and outside on his deck and lawn, she’d created a beautiful Asian garden. It was anything but showy. In fact, the feel of the whole party was classic and elegant and totally comfortable. Smiling, helpful waitstaff milled about with delicious alcoholic concoctions like wet-cucumber and ginger-passionfruit margaritas, and Asian-French treats like miso-braised short ribs, coriander-crusted ahi tuna and Vietnamese sweet-potato fries with a chili cream dipping sauce.

      Surrounded by several clients and potential clients, Ethan felt in his element and ready to do business, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering where Mary was. Earlier in the night she’d slipped away to change and reappeared right before the first doorbell chime.

      Ethan had been having a difficult time keeping his eyes off her since. His gaze scanned the crowd and found her chatting with two couples, looking at ease and incredibly sexy. Her makeup was smoky and sophisticated, and she’d slicked her blond hair back into a very chic ponytail. But it was the clothes she was wearing that really made his entire body jolt. She looked as though she’d just stepped off a runway in New York. The black crisscross halter top and white pencil skirt showed off her long, slim figure to perfection. Soon she wouldn’t be able to wear clothes like this, he mused thoughtfully. Her body would grow with their child, blossom with curves.

      He continued to watch her as she gestured to one of the waitstaff carrying those very popular pale-green wet-cucumber margaritas. After serving the couple, Mary made her way over to Ethan and his insurance friends, her light-blue cat eyes bright with success and confidence. “Good evening. Is everyone enjoying themselves?”

      The people around Ethan nodded and offered their host and hostess several enthusiastic compliments, then chuckled with amusement when Ethan declared he had to have what appeared to be the last piece of ahi and he was going to seek it out. Feeling oddly possessive in the large crowd of married and single men, Ethan led Mary out on the deck, where guests were waiting for a boat ride around the small lake.

      “You haven’t said anything about—” she gestured around the room “—all of this.”

      “Looks good,” he said distractedly. The light out on the deck was even more intimate than the candles inside the house. Her neck looked soft and white and he played with the thought of leaning in and kissing her, right where her pulse thrummed gently.

      “Looks good?” she repeated. “Is that all I’m going to get from you?”

      “Nice choice of words,” Ethan muttered, closing the gap between them so they were nearly touching, his chest to the tips of her breasts. Heat surged through Ethan’s blood, and Mary must’ve seen the desire in his eyes because she quickly restated her question.

      “What I meant was, is everything satisfactory?”

      Ten feet away, around the side of the house, there was an alcove, just dark enough for them not to be spotted. He wanted to take her there, watch her pale-blue eyes turn smoky as he removed her skirt. “The food is amazing, the house looks perfect…yes, all satisfactory.”

      “Good.”

      “Great party, Curtis. Really top-notch.” Downing a plate of short ribs as though they were going out of style, Ed Grasner, one of Ethan’s biggest clients, walked by, no doubt headed for the boats and his wife.

      Like a brick to the head, Ethan remembered why his guests were here. It was not to facilitate a seduction—he could do that on his own time. He turned back to Mary, his game face on. “The success of this evening isn’t based on how much everyone eats and drinks or how great the house looks, it’s based on acquiring several new clients.”

      Mary looked confused, as though she was watching a chameleon change colors. “Of course.”

      Ethan nodded toward a couple in their late thirties, sitting at one of the candlelit tables by the water. “Isaac and Emily Underwood. The St.Paul Underwoods. Very old money.”

      “Yes, I’ve heard of them.”

      “They own twenty-five exclusive inns around the Midwest. Get to them, get to the rest of their family. Can your efforts tonight reel in prize fish like that?”

      “Is this a business party or the hunting and gaming channel?”

      “I want what I want. And ninety-nine percent of the time I get it.”

      She shook her head at him.

      He