LITMIR.BIZ

      With thanks to my fellow Daughters of Power authors—Barbara Dunlop, Michelle Celmer, Rachel Bailey, Andrea Laurence and Jennifer Lewis. Wonderful to work with you all!

      And a special shout-out for our brilliant series editor,

       Charles Griemsman. Always a pleasure.

      One

      Angels live among us.

      This one was balanced on a stepladder, decorating an arch strewn with sunflowers and sparkling cupids. Her chic upsweep of red-gold hair drew attention to the emeralds sparkling on each earlobe, jewels that paid homage to the color of her eyes. Together with a dark skirt and peach silk blouse, the package said refined as well as hold-me-back sexy.

      A pair of black pumps were paired neatly at the ladder’s feet, and as she stretched to hang the final garland, one black-stockinged leg stretched out, too. Crossing his arms, Daniel McNeal butted a shoulder against the doorjamb and came to a conclusion. He’d bet all he was worth—and that was a lot—that one kiss from this angel could bring a mere mortal to his knees.

      Spending time with a Washington wedding planner usually didn’t feature on his to-do list. The only reason Daniel was here now was to tend to his best mate’s upcoming nuptials. But frankly, right this minute he couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be.

      Although, at a distance, she faced him, she hadn’t noticed him yet. As she finished hanging the final cupid and began her descent, he pushed off the doorjamb and, looking forward to the introduction, sauntered over. A heartbeat later, her footing somehow slipped. Gravity pulled her weight backward and, with a delicate yip, she lost her grip. As both arms swept over her head, Daniel sprinted. Lunged. Thankfully he caught her before she hit the ground.

      Heart pumping, he straightened while his angel’s wide green eyes stared up at the ceiling and her chest heaved with fright. She sucked back a fortifying breath. Eventually her startled gaze found his.

      “I’ve been up that ladder dozens of times,” she said. “I’ve never slipped.” The bows of her lips trembled on a grateful smile. “I really need to thank you.”

      “I know the ideal way. Have dinner with me tonight.”

      She coughed out a laugh. Then she blinked, frowned and looked at him hard. “I don’t even know your name.”

      “Daniel McNeal.”

      Recognition lit her face. “Daniel McNeal of Waves fame. The social networking site. I recognize the face now. You’re Australian, yes?”

      He nodded. “And you must be Scarlet Anders.”

      She was a partner here at DC Affairs with Ariella Winthrop—the woman who’d recently been labeled as the incoming president’s secret love child. The claim, made by an American News Service reporter in a toast at an inauguration gala, had set the nation back flat on its behind. The obvious question was: If Ariella was indeed President Morrow’s daughter, who was responsible for the leak? And just how deep did that fissure go?

      Scarlet Anders was still gazing up at him. “So you’re here about a wedding, Mr. McNeal?”

      “Yes.” He lifted her a fraction higher. “But not my own.”

      As if she were pleased to hear it, her perfect smile spread. But then her eyes rounded again and she wriggled until he had no choice but to set her down on her two stockinged feet. After patting back an errant curl flopped over one eye, she straightened her skirt, slipped on her shoes.

      “Much better.” Exhaling, she squared her shoulders and folded her hands loosely before her. “Now we can talk business.”

      “I was fine talking the other way.” While I held you in my arms.

      Her cheeks flushed a flattering shade of pink before she schooled her features and got the conversation back on track.

      “So you’re here regarding a wedding?”

      “I’m Max Grayson’s best man.”

      Like a kid who’d found her Christmas gifts early, she tipped up on her toes and pressed her hands against her drop pearl necklace in excitement. If not

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