Her Man in Manhattan
Trish Wylie
It seems mayor's daughter Miranda Kravitz has scored herself a new – and very dreamy! - bodyguard. Apparently the fireworks between them are scorching, but will this tabloid darling really be willing to give up her new-found taste for freedom - no matter how gorgeous Tyler Brannigan is?Rumour has it, this maverick cop has used up all his strikes with the NYPD vice squad and now Brannigan is paying his dues with a temporary assignment as babysitter. If anyone can keep this Manhattan princess in check, surely it’s this tough-guy detective?Hopefully handcuffs won’t be necessary… !
Up close and personal—with her bodyguard!
It seems mayor’s daughter Miranda Kravitz has scored herself a new and very dreamy bodyguard! Apparently the fireworks between them are scorching, but will this tabloid darling really be willing to give up her newfound taste for freedom—no matter how gorgeous Tyler Brannigan is?
Rumor has it Brannigan hates playing by the rules and has used up all his strikes with the NYPD vice squad. So now this cop’s paying his dues with a temporary assignment as babysitter. If anyone can keep this Manhattan princess in check, surely it’s this tough-guy detective? Hopefully handcuffs won’t be necessary!
His body loomed over her, the tip of his nose barely an inch away from hers as his voice rumbled. “Get in the car.”
Miranda hadn’t even noticed it was there and frankly, with his mouth in kissing distance, she couldn’t care less. She angled her head in a move that suggested she was about to fit their lips together and she lifted her chin, reducing the gap to millimeters. Then she looked deep into cobalt-blue eyes and whispered, “Make. Me.”
When her heavy-lidded gaze lowered to his mouth she saw a corner of it tug upward.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said in a low, husky, unbelievably sexy voice before moving his head so he could whisper in her ear. “I’m more trouble than you can handle.”
It was as if he’d placed all of her fantasies within her grasp. Miranda blinked at him while he leaned away from her and reached for the door.
“We’ll see.…”
Her Man in Manhattan
Trish Wylie
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT TRISH WYLIE
Trish Wylie worked on a long career of careers to get to the one she’d wanted from her late teens. She flicked her blond hair over her shoulder while playing the promotions game, patted her manicured hands on the backs of musicians in the music business, smiled sweetly at awkward customers during the retail nightmare known as the run-up to Christmas, and got completely lost in her car in every single town in Ireland while working as a sales rep.
It took all that character-building and a healthy sense of humor to get her dream job, she feels—where she spends her days in reindeer slippers, with her hair in whatever band she can find to keep it out of the way, makeup as vague and distant a memory as manicured nails, while she gets to create the kind of dream man she’d still like to believe is out there somewhere. If it turns out he is, she promises she’ll let you know…after she’s been out for a new wardrobe, a manicure and a makeover.…
This and other titles by Trish Wylie are available in ebook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Contents
Chapter One (#uff5fa470-74dd-5f54-b9a0-1f3c2755d653)
Chapter Two (#u787cd896-6c56-5c1e-b89e-7c27820f7446)
Chapter Three (#udd1eb8cd-8527-582f-b59d-ffd0b27800af)
Chapter Four (#ueb687ac6-83d6-5914-952c-43eb41d6e29c)
Chapter Five (#uc4f3df0e-0d43-5953-9c0a-cc56e16f510b)
Chapter Six (#ud5da9493-9f59-5cc4-aa0e-31b7f0085cb2)
Chapter Seven (#u28353786-f6d6-507b-85c5-5f24acd77257)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE
Tyler wasn’t the only guy watching her. It was just a shame he didn’t want to be there and resented the living hell out of the fact he didn’t have a choice.
If things had been different he could enjoy the view.
Pinpricks of sparkling light swirled over the dance floor as she sashayed sideways and made a sexy rotation of her hips. She had a body made for sin: tall, slender, with full breasts and flawless, sun-kissed skin. Raising bared arms above her head lifted the hem of her silver minidress, exposing several more inches of delectably long legs encased in white platform-heeled knee-high boots. Add the sleek bob of a snowy wig, which covered her trademark hair, to darkly made-up eyes and ruby-red lips and she would make a fortune dancing on a dais.
When she bent her knees and shimmied downwards—rising with an effortlessly fluid curve of her spine—he didn’t have difficulty picturing her with a spotlight following her every move. Judging by the fun she’d had fending off potential dance partners she would probably get a kick out of it. But despite her obvious comfort in the centre of so much male attention she stood out of the writhing mass of humanity too much for his liking. She was lucky no one had recognized her and if there was one thing Tyler knew, it was luck had a tendency to run out.
Even for the Irish.
Without warning her gaze collided into his with a pinpoint accuracy, which made it feel as if she’d known he was there all along. The impact created a sudden flare of heat in his body, like a spark igniting a fuse. Refusing to accept it was anything but the natural biological reaction of red-blooded male to hot female, he held his ground and waited to see what she would do next.
Rolling her shoulders and hips, she ran the tip of her tongue over glossy lips and smiled a slow, sensual smile. The silent come-on might have summoned him to the dance floor if he’d ever danced a day in his life. But even if he had he wasn’t the kind of guy who came running when a woman crooked an invisible finger. If she wanted to come talk to him she could slide on over. A corner of his mouth lifted.
He was willing to bet she’d be pleased as punch when she found out who she’d been flirting with.
When something was yelled in her ear by her friend she laughed and turned away. A moment later she flashed another smile over her shoulder and swayed, drawing his gaze to the curve of her rear.
Tyler dragged his gaze away. It didn’t take a genius to work out she was going to be trouble. He’d known that before he laid eyes on her.
Lifting the beer bottle in his hand, he took a long pull and frowned at the label in disgust as he swallowed. Light anything had never been his style; when associated with the word beer it was just all kinds of wrong.
As he experienced a visceral demand from his body to watch her again he forced his gaze elsewhere. Even if he was officially on the clock he wasn’t paid to watch her every move. He had to focus on his surroundings; survey the room for potential threats and monitor the crowd. Being attracted to her was a problem he didn’t need, especially when it felt as if they’d been tumbling down on him like boulders after a landslide of late.
He missed the days when he had more control over his life. How had it got so screwed up?
When it came to why he was standing there the path was easy to track. A guy had a friendly word of warning for one low life too many and suddenly the brass were tossing around phrases like ‘desk duty’ and ‘temporary leave of absence.’ Granted, the fact he was unrepentant probably had something to do with it, but what he still didn’t get was why his punishment involved babysitting.
Despite his ability to provide what she was looking for, he had better things to do with his time than spend it reining in an entitled rich kid in search of a few thrills to liven up her—
A familiar face caught his gaze as the music changed to a faster beat and raised an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. Immediately on alert, Tyler swiftly scanned the rest of the room, targeting two more likely subjects before he hit another face he recognized.
He had to get her out of there.
Setting the bottle down on the nearest table, he looked at the dance floor and frowned when he discovered she wasn’t there. Gripping the brass railing in front of him, he played a short game of Where’s Waldo? before locating her on her way to the bar with her friend. After checking the nearest exit point, he headed straight for her.
He was two steps away when the music stopped and voices yelled out, ‘NYPD. Everyone stay where you are!’
With her focus on what was happening on the other side of the room, she jumped in surprise as he grabbed her hand. Her eyes widened when she looked up at him. ‘What—?’
‘This way.’
She tugged against his hold as he dragged her towards the exit. ‘Let me go!’
‘You want to get arrested?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then follow my lead.’
Hauling open the door, he stepped them into a dimly lit hallway and looked from side to side. A lightning-fast inventory revealed restrooms, a payphone, steps to what Tyler assumed was a basement on their left and enough banging from the right to indicate they were about to have company. The basement was the most viable option if it had a loading bay that opened onto the sidewalk, but before he could check he heard a crash. Out of time and in need of a distraction, he backed her into the wall and smashed his lips against hers.
Big mistake.
The fuse she’d lit from the dance floor set off the equivalent of an explosive charge. Plumes of fire engulfed him, incinerating rational thought as the invitation of her parted lips was met with the instinctual thrust of his tongue. Need pulsed through his body as an appreciative moan vibrated in her throat. His hand gripped her hip and slid lower. In response she lifted her leg off the ground and hooked it around the back of his knee, allowing him to cradle a silky thigh and lift it higher.
It didn’t matter if they were seconds away from being discovered in a highly compromised position. If anything it immediately turned his thoughts to the position his body desperately wanted to be in—his imagination adding fuel to the fire with the suggestion her underwear was as sexy as her dress. Or, better still, non-existent.
‘You seeing this?’ a voice asked.
‘Hey! Break it up over there,’ another voice demanded.
Wrenching his mouth free, Tyler hauled in much needed air before squinting at the beams of light aimed their way. Allowing the leg he was holding to lower to the floor he took a step forwards to block her body with his.
‘Stay right where you are, buddy,’ the first voice said in warning.
Recognizing who it was, Tyler raised his arms at his sides, palms forwards, and waited for the penny to drop with the heavily armed cop. Since silently willing the younger man not to do anything stupid was pointless when saying the words out loud had never had any effect, he added an almost imperceptible shake of his head. When the torch nodded a little he assumed the point had been made and lowered his arms. But when it moved in an attempt to see who was behind him Tyler frowned. ‘Problem, Officer?’
‘You know there’s a raid going on next door?’
‘Can’t say I’d noticed...’
‘We can guess why.’ The cop cleared his throat before asking, ‘Do we need to search you two for narcotics?’
Funny guy. ‘What we’re high on doesn’t have anything to do with drugs.’ Tyler smirked.
A fine-boned hand snaked around his arm and flattened on his chest. ‘Can we get arrested for not being able to keep our hands off each other?’ the woman behind him asked in a passable, not to mention sultry Southern accent.
Tyler made a note of the fact it obviously wasn’t the first time she’d acted her way out of a tricky situation. ‘If we can I’m willing to do the time.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘How about you?’
‘Are there co-ed jails in the state of New York?’ She chuckled throatily, the sound strumming across the taut strings of his libido. ‘Just think how much fun we could have sharing a room.’
When she gently caught his ear lobe between her teeth and touched it with the wet tip of her tongue, he felt the impact of the contact all the way to his toes.
‘Getting a room somewhere sounds like a plan to me,’ the officer in front of them said before he lowered his torch. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind.’
Grasping hold of the hand on his chest, Tyler headed down the hall and through the busted door. As they entered an alley bathed in flashing red and blue lights one of the cops by a line of vehicles lowered his hand from the radio on his shoulder and waved them through. If he’d been her, he would have had questions about the ease of their escape, but apparently she was too busy jogging on her platform heels to keep up with his determined stride to ask.
‘My friend—’
‘Unless she’s carrying drugs she’ll be fine.’
When she tripped he simply tugged on her hand and kept walking, the anger he felt directed as much at himself as her. He could still taste her on his lips: a combination of strawberries, spice and liberation. He couldn’t remember a time he’d wanted a woman so badly he would have risked everything for a brief moment of mutual release. What he could remember were the days when his timing—not to mention his judgment—had been better.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked a little breathlessly as they rounded a corner onto a wide street where they stood a better chance of finding a cab.
If she’d been any other woman who reacted the way she had when he kissed her, they’d be headed straight for his place. But he couldn’t use her to make him feel good for a few hours even if he made certain she felt the same way. Until he completed his assignment, went back to where he was supposed to be and handed out some justice, he didn’t have the right to live his life as if nothing had happened.
To focus his mind he summoned the memory of another woman’s face and the words he’d said to her. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he’d lied. ‘You can trust me.’
‘I’m not taking you anywhere.’ When he spotted a flash of yellow he raised an arm in the air to flag down the cab. ‘He is.’ Digging in his pocket for a handful of bills as the vehicle drew to a halt beside the kerb, he handed them through the window to the driver. ‘That should cover it.’
He held open the rear door and waited for her to get inside, his gaze lowered to watch long legs fold gracefully into place before he looked into the shadows of her eyes.
‘I don’t get a name?’ she asked.
‘You already have one.’
Her mouth curved into a smile. ‘I meant your name.’
Tyler shook his head at the liquid cadence of her voice. Next she’d be asking for a phone number and when she could see him again. It was all just one big game to her. He could have been anyone—drug dealer, kidnapper, serial killer—she had no idea how dark the world could be.
But he did.
‘You’re welcome.’ He closed the door and turned away without mentioning she’d be seeing him again real soon.
Why ruin the surprise?
Since it was the last one she’d have in a while, he hoped she’d enjoyed her little adventure. Come Monday she would be playing by his rules.
Cross him and he’d make her sorry they ever met.
TWO
After checking that Crystal made it out of the nightclub okay and apologizing profusely for abandoning her, Miranda spent the rest of the weekend fantasizing about her rescuer.
She’d felt his gaze on her before she saw him, which was rare for someone who had spent most of her life being watched. Understandably curious she’d sought him out, her breath catching when she laid eyes on him.
He was the most compelling man she’d ever seen.
From what she could tell he was handsome in a rough-edged kind of way, but that wasn’t what made him exciting. What did was that even while standing tall and straight he gave the impression of a predator crouched to spring on its prey. Brazenly answering his interest in her with a smile of encouragement had felt like playing with fire, the associated rush of adrenaline addictive.
And when it came to that kiss, oh, my...
Smoothing her palms over her elegantly tailored linen dress, she followed the curve from breast to waist to hip. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine the hands touching her body were larger and more masculine; a deep voice was rumbling in her ear, describing everything he was going to do to her in explicit detail.
A sigh of regret left her lips.
If they hadn’t been interrupted...
None of her small acts of rebellion had ever given her the same rush she got when she thought about doing more than kissing him. But how would she find him again in a city the size of New York when she didn’t know his name?
A familiar three-tapped knock on her bedroom door snapped her out of her reverie.
‘Come in,’ she called as she stepped over to sit on the stool in front of her dressing table.
‘Good morning, Miranda.’
‘Good morning, Grace,’ she answered cheerfully when her father’s personal assistant appeared. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful morning? The park looks lovely from the windows. I don’t suppose there’s enough of a gap in my schedule today to allow for a leisurely stroll?’
‘No.’ Grace’s reflection smiled apologetically. ‘But at least you’ll be outside for a while.’
‘Well, that’s something.’
While Miranda attached small pearl-drop earrings to her lobes, the ever efficient fifty-something who had been in her life for so long she’d become a kind of maiden aunt opened her file and got down to business.
‘You have a nine a.m. appointment for a dress fitting with Ms Wang. At ten you’re due at a community project in the Bronx with time for a meet-and-greet before morning coffee. At eleven-thirty—’
‘Do you think the world would come to an end if we took a day off?’ Miranda mused as she added a flawless string of pearls to her neck and fluffed her hair into place. ‘We could pack a picnic, grab a handful of gossip magazines and spend the morning people watching...’
When she nodded enthusiastically in the mirror Grace closed her file. ‘Before or after you go through the Help Wanted ads with me?’
‘One little day,’ Miranda cajoled with a pout and a flutter of long lashes.
‘Your father would like to see you before you leave.’
‘Ten bucks says it’s a reminder to kiss babies.’
‘I don’t think they’re eligible to vote.’
‘No. But with any luck they’ll have fathers there for me to flirt with or mothers for me to charm with talk of how much I want kids of my own one day.’ Pushing to her feet, she lifted her bag and shoes and linked their arms at the elbows as they crossed the room.
It was the kind of simple human contact she didn’t stop to think about with Grace. She’d heard somewhere people needed eighteen inches of personal space but for most of Miranda’s life the distance had been greater. Hence a small part of why the memory of full bodily contact with a virile male was so hard to shake, most likely.
Not that there weren’t other reasons.
‘It’s remiss of me not to have produced a suitable grandchild by now,’ she continued in the same bright tone. ‘Chubby toddlers are always a hit with the electorate.’
‘If you start planning ahead you could schedule it for the whispered campaign for Governor.’
‘Always best to keep something in reserve.’ Miranda nodded in agreement. She smiled as they stepped into the hall. ‘Good morning, Roger. Is that a new tie?’
‘Wife bought it for my birthday,’ her father’s press secretary replied with an answering smile.
‘She has excellent taste.’
‘Speaking of spouses, finding a husband before you have that chubby toddler might be a good idea,’ Grace whispered conspiratorially.
Miranda leaned closer to whisper back, ‘I’ve heard you don’t have to have one to get the other.’
‘You do when your father’s the mayor.’
Another face in the hallway earned another smile. ‘Good morning, Lou. How was the Little League game?’
‘Two strikes and a home run,’ her father’s head of security replied with the swing of an invisible bat.
‘Tell Tommy I said “yay,”’ she replied with a ladylike punch to the air.
‘Shoes,’ Grace reminded her outside the door to her father’s study.
‘What would I do without you?’
‘Run barefoot and be late for appointments.’
‘Now doesn’t that sound like fun?’ She handed over her bag for safekeeping, slipped on her heels and took a step back to turn a circle. ‘Am I ready for inspection?’
‘You’ll do.’
After a light knock on the door, she waited for the cursory ‘come’ and turned the handle.
‘Ah, here she is,’ her father said from behind his mahogany desk as she crossed the room. ‘Miranda, this is Detective Brannigan. He’ll be overseeing your security during the remainder of the campaign.’
Though unaware there were any changes planned, she kept a smile in place as she waited for the man to stand up and turn around. Her first impression was of his size; he was six feet two, possibly three, his build more running back than linebacker. Many people would have been surprised by that—when they thought bodyguard they pictured brute force—but while physical strength and fitness were both important the members of her family’s protective details came in many shapes and sizes. Keen observation skills and an ability to think on their feet were of equal importance.
Any following thought on the subject disappeared in a flash and was instantly replaced by shock when she looked into cobalt-blue eyes. It took every ounce of her social skills to prevent the drop of her jaw.
‘Miss Kravitz,’ he said in a low rumbling baritone as her hand was engulfed in a firm handshake.
It wasn’t what she’d fantasized he would say if they met again but the sound of his voice was enough to remind her of every imagined word. She peeled her tongue off the roof of her mouth as heat suffused her palm and rushed up her arm. Had he known who she was when he came to her rescue? Had he been watching her because he was on duty? How long had he been following her?
As she remembered to reclaim her hand and lowered it to her side—his touch still tingling on her skin—her gaze shifted to her father. There was no way to determine how much trouble she was in while he was wearing his elected official expression but if he was upset about something it was a new tactic. Usually the punishment for her supposed misdemeanors involved a lecture on responsibility—the kind she liked to think she’d endured stoically over the years.
‘He’ll report to Lou the same way Ron did,’ he said. ‘They’ve selected a new detail for you.’
All of her guys had been replaced—since when and, more to the point, why?
‘Detective Brannigan suggested a shake-up,’ he added so she knew who to blame.
While he turned his attention to some of the papers on his desk she looked at the man beside her to see if the reality lived up to her fantasy. Strong masculine features—short, dark blond hair, thick lashes framing his intense eyes. He was every bit as compelling as she remembered. Seeing him again reawakened the potent sensual awareness in her body. It transported her back in time to when he’d kissed her into a boneless puddle of lust and walked away.
Now she thought about it Miranda wasn’t certain she’d forgiven him for that. Particularly when it was more than obvious he still had the upper hand. She’d wondered how he managed to get them past a cordon of New York’s finest with such ease. In her furtive imagination he’d been everything from a mafia don with cops on his payroll to a combination of secretive billionaire by day and caped crusader by night. That he was with the NYPD made more sense but why hadn’t he said so? Why the charade? Why kiss her instead of flashing a badge?
He blinked lazily hooded eyes. ‘I believe you have a nine a.m. appointment.’
Miranda ignored him and rounded the desk to place a kiss on her father’s cheek. ‘Bye, Daddy.’
‘Bye sweetheart. Have a good day.’
‘You, too,’ she replied before lifting her chin as she walked back across the room. ‘Now we can leave.’
In a few long strides he’d overtaken her and held open the door but she didn’t thank him for the courtesy while she was piqued by his duplicity.
‘New bodyguard?’ Grace whispered as she handed over her bag and a copy of the day’s itinerary.
Miranda crinkled her nose in mock delight. ‘Lucky me.’
She led the way down the second-floor landing, past a rare five-seat settee that had been discovered in the basement of City Hall. Despite living in the mansion for the two terms her father had been mayor she never took her surroundings for granted. If anything the combination of rare paintings and antiques interspersed with modern furniture reminded her of what a privilege it was to live in one of the few surviving eighteenth-century mansions in the city. It was something she could appreciate more approaching twenty-five than she had at seventeen. But unlike most mornings she didn’t take the time to greet any of her favorite pieces with a smile or to mull over her continuing need to escape such a beautifully gilded cage.
She was too distracted by the man walking behind her, her body highly tuned to his presence.
They were halfway down the carpeted stairs before she lowered her voice to ask, ‘Did you know who I was?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did my father order you to follow me?’
‘No.’
She smiled at the woman making her way upstairs. ‘Good morning, Dorothy. Is it as beautiful outside as it looks through the window?’
‘It is,’ the maid replied with an answering smile.
The tension became heavier with each muted downward step while Miranda tried to pretend she couldn’t feel an intense gaze following her every move. There was no way she could spend every day in the company of a man she’d pictured naked...and sweaty...and as aroused as he’d left her after one little kiss. She had a reputation for being cool, calm and poised in public. She wasn’t about to exchange it for hot, bothered and sexually frustrated. It wasn’t as if the discovery he was—technically speaking—a ‘good guy’ had done anything to dilute her fantasy, either. Even while wearing a dark suit, white shirt and patriotically striped tie he oozed the danger she’d craved since her late teens.
Skydiving, bungee jumping, swimming with sharks—they were all on an ever-growing wish list of forbidden pursuits she’d added to over the years.
Making wild, crazy whoopee with one of her bodyguards had never crossed her mind, until now.
Her heels clicked on the exquisitely refurbished faux marble patterning of the wooden floor in the foyer. In a matter of seconds they would be in the vestibule, away from the constantly moving crowd that never quite managed to make her feel less alone. They could take advantage of the moment and pick up where they’d left off. He would grab her hand and swing her around, press her against the wall with his muscled body, crush her lips beneath his and...
Miranda gave herself a mental smack upside the head. She needed to focus. The brief alone time they had between inner and outer doors should be used to reclaim some of the control over her life she couldn’t afford to relinquish. She hadn’t been fighting for her freedom so someone new could stride in and clip her wings before she had a chance to stretch them. With that in mind, the second the first door closed behind them she turned to face him.
‘As it’s your first day I think we should lay out some ground rules....’
‘I agree.’ He nodded. ‘So shut up and listen.’
Miranda gaped at him in disbelief. ‘You can’t talk to me like that.’
‘What you mean is no one else ever has, right?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I’m willing to bet folks have been kowtowing to you since you were in diapers.’ The forwards step he took seemed to suck all the air out of the vestibule. ‘What you need to learn quick-smart is I don’t kowtow to anyone,’ he said in a low, mesmerizing rumble. ‘I’m here to do a job. Make that more difficult for me than it needs to be, things will get ugly.’ He jerked his brows. ‘You feel me?’
Did she—? She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘No begging necessary,’ he replied with a small shake of his head. ‘Just be a good girl and do as you’re told and we’ll be golden.’
‘You know I can have you removed from this position?’
‘Good luck with that. I’ve been trying to get out of it for a week.’ He reached past her, held open the outer door and inclined his head. ‘After you, princess.’
A dazed Miranda stepped through the door, her gaze locked on broad shoulders as he overtook her on the gravel driveway. While there was no denying part of her buzzed with the titillating after-effects of his forceful tone, another was mildly outraged. No one had ever spoken to her that way. Who did he think he was?
She narrowed her eyes. It didn’t matter who he was. He was about to discover she wouldn’t be easily intimidated. She was a politician’s daughter. Everything she needed to know about hiding her emotions she’d learned from masters of disguising how they felt. Summoning an air of poise, she reached into her bag for a pair of oversize sunglasses and her cell phone. If he thought he was dealing with a spoilt princess she would give him exactly what he expected. Covering her eyes, she hit speed dial.
‘Good morning, darling, how are you?’ She purposefully spoke loud enough to be overheard. ‘My day has got off to the most dreadful start.’
‘The Queen of England called and said she wanted her accent back?’ Crystal sighed dramatically. ‘You’re standing me up for lunch, aren’t you?’
Miranda smiled smoothly. ‘Absolutely not.’
It didn’t matter if he was a walking sex fantasy. She planned on ditching her new bodyguard by noon.
THREE
‘I assume Detective isn’t your first name.’
Tyler glanced in the rear-view mirror. She’d given him the silent treatment since they left the mayor’s residence and he’d have been happy for it to stay that way. He wasn’t there to make small talk. He was there to keep her safe and out of trouble; something the guys on her previous detail could have done with remembering more often.
‘I’ll ask Lou,’ her honeyed voice said in a dismissive tone when he didn’t reply. ‘He’s a sweetheart.’
Somehow Tyler doubted she’d think so if she knew the mayor’s head of security was a big part of the reason he was there. It had been Lou Mitchell’s bright idea to draft in someone who hadn’t been doing the job for so long they took things for granted or was easily distracted by a pretty face. That Tyler wasn’t prepared to be subtle didn’t seem to be a problem, which was just as well considering where he’d been drafted from.
The next time he glanced in the mirror she’d placed her sunglasses on top of her head and was idly twirling a lock of hair as she read the screen of her BlackBerry. She might have been hot while wearing a disguise but without one she was a stone-cold knockout. Her skin-coloured dress left little to the imagination even with a demure neckline and its hem a respectable couple of inches above her knees. Fitted the way it was—to lovingly follow every curve of her damn-near-perfect body—it had drawn his gaze to her more often than he should have allowed.
The hair she was toying with was a particular source of fascination: lustrous, tumbling tresses of flame blended with sunlight. He could have said his interest in it stemmed from curiosity—how had she got that much hair under a short wig?—but he’d have been lying. The truth was he didn’t know why he found it so fascinating. He just did.
But the packaging didn’t make up for her personality.
A few hours of watching her in action was all it took to confirm what he’d already suspected. What surprised him was how easily she fooled everyone else. When they got to the second hit of the day and she stepped into a community project for the elderly she pulled out all the stops. A flash of her hundred-watt smile, a few carefully chosen sound bites, the brush of elegant hands over selected arms and she was treated like a combination of visiting European royalty and prodigal granddaughter. By the time she left he suspected there wasn’t anyone she came into contact with who didn’t believe she genuinely cared what they had to say.
The folks out in Hollywood earned a gold statue for that kind of performance.
His next glance in the mirror revealed she’d shifted her attention from her hair to the pearls around her neck. The fine-boned forefinger tracing them stilled and then she blinked darkened lashes, her hazel-eyed gaze crashing into his before he returned his attention to the road.
‘What was your last assignment?’ she enquired after another moment of silence.
‘You want a copy of my CV so you can get your friend Lou to pull my jacket?’
‘Your jacket?’
‘My file.’ He made a turn and merged the Escalade into three lanes of busy traffic when he heard a sound. ‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s unusually stuffy in here.’
‘That’s why they invented air-con.’ Reaching forwards to hit the switch, he frowned when he glanced in the mirror and discovered she was leaning her face towards the open window. ‘And that glass is tinted for a reason.’
‘As disappointing as I’m sure it is for you,’ she replied haughtily, ‘I’m not high on anyone’s hit list.’
‘You’ve never read any of the letters that land at your father’s office, have you?’ Tyler hit another switch to slide the window shut and waited for the answer he already knew.
‘We have people who do that.’
‘Course you do,’ he said dryly while he steered into the middle lane of traffic on Fifth Avenue.
When he drew to a smooth halt at a crossing there was a gasp from the rear seat. ‘What a gorgeous dress!’
Though he’d been ready for her to try something the sound of a door being opened caught him off guard. He turned around in his seat. ‘Don’t get out of—’
Too late. She smiled brightly as she grabbed her bag. ‘I’ll meet you back here in an hour.’ Next thing he knew the door slammed and she was skipping her light-footed way to the sidewalk.
Tyler’s seat belt was unbuckled when the light changed, the honking of horns forcing him to ram the Escalade back into gear. With one eye on the traffic and another on where she was headed, he cut across a lane and swung around the corner. It might have taken five minutes of screeching tyres to get there but by the time she exited the rear of the store he was casually leaning against the side of the vehicle with his arms crossed.
The victorious smile on her face faded the instant she saw him. ‘How did you—?’
‘Clue’s in the word detective.’ He pushed upright and opened the rear door. As she reached him he swung it shut in her face. ‘Which part of our talk this morning wasn’t clear to you?’
She angled her chin and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Which part of your job description suggested you were the boss in this relationship?’
‘Who exactly is it you think I work for?’
‘You’re my bodyguard.’
‘The city pays my wage.’
‘Is there a bonus for being a pain in the ass?’ She smiled sweetly.
‘Where were you going?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Yeah, it is.’ He reached into his pocket for a folded piece of paper and held it up in front of her face. ’Cos if it’s not on here, you don’t get to go there....’
‘It’s a free country. I can go where I want.’
Tyler wondered how much effort it had taken not to stamp her foot. ‘Let’s check the schedule, shall we?’
She crossed her arms as he shrugged back the sleeve of his jacket to consult his watch. ‘Eleven fifty-seven.’ He glanced over the sheet of paper and shook his head. ‘Nope, can’t see anything on here about playing hide-and-seek. Maybe yours is different from mine.’ His gaze locked with hers again. ‘Since we’ve established other people do the reading for you, maybe I should check that one, too.’
‘You carry a gun, right?’ she asked with a completely deadpan expression.
Two as it happened but she didn’t need to know that. ‘You gonna make me use it?’
‘I was going to ask if I can borrow it.’
Drawing in a long breath, Tyler refolded the paper and put it back in his pocket. ‘If I were you I wouldn’t waste time thinking up ways to cut me loose. This is strike one. Three strikes and you won’t get to visit a restroom alone.’
‘Your last assignment was at Guantanamo, wasn’t it?’
The old Tyler might have laughed at the comment. The one standing in front of her simply leaned closer and informed her, ‘I’m in your life now. Get used to it.’
The flecks of gold that flared in her eyes hinted at a temper to match her hair. For a split second he wanted her to get mad enough to swing for him—to spit fire and passion and remind him of the woman he’d kissed.
As if sensing a weakness ripe for exploitation she switched tactics. The curve of her full lips became sinful, drawing his gaze to her mouth and calling him to taste her again. She slowly ran the tip of her tongue over the surface, leaving a hypnotically glossy sheen in its wake.
In an instant he remembered how she’d felt when her body was melded to his, how soft her skin had been beneath his fingertips and how badly he’d burned for her. Just as suddenly he was aware of how close they were standing. One more step and their bodies would be touching again.
It took almost as much effort not to frown at his reaction as it did to snap his gaze back up to her eyes. ‘That won’t work either, so you can forget it.’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
Sure she didn’t. He reached for the door handle and jerked his chin. ‘Back up a step.’
The order was met with a defiant lack of movement, her luminous eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Is my father aware of how you got me out of the nightclub?’
Tyler’s arm dropped. He’d wondered how long it would take for her to go there but if she thought she could use it against him, she was wrong. ‘You want to tell him where you were?’
‘He doesn’t know?’
‘I thought the mayor was supposed to know everything that goes on in his city.’
‘You didn’t answer the question.’
‘Didn’t I?’
The battle of wills made the air between them crackle and when her gaze briefly flickered to his mouth Tyler knew that kiss was as much on her mind as it had been on his. Her awareness of him was in the darkening of her eyes, in the increased rise and fall of her breasts. Any hope he’d had that what happened between them could be blamed on the heat of the moment was gone. But while he’d lost his self-control once he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
‘You getting in or am I putting you there?’
‘You can’t manhandle me like a common criminal,’ she replied on a note of outrage.
‘Try me.’
She glared at him as she took a step back. ‘Door.’
Tyler held it open, unable to resist an incline of his head and a sweep of his arm in invitation. ‘Your Highness...’
FOUR
His attitude sucked.
‘What is his problem?’ Miranda asked as she paced her bedroom floor with her cell phone glued to her ear.
‘He’s rude, overbearing and obviously doesn’t know his place,’ Crystal replied.
‘Obviously, but that’s not what I meant. It’s like I’ve done something to him way worse than making him open a stupid door.’
‘He’s supposed to open doors.’
‘He is.’ Miranda agreed. ‘It’s courteous.’
‘It is. And how dare he speak to you that way?’
‘I know, right?’
Having allowed her the customary five minutes to rant, Crystal called a halt with ‘Can we stop being the mean girls from high school now?’
‘Do we have to?’
‘Yes,’ she replied firmly. ‘You were never that girl. Now take a deep breath and tell Auntie Crystal what the real problem is.’
Miranda stopped pacing and dropped heavily onto the end of her bed. ‘I don’t like him.’
‘You liked him on Friday night,’ Crystal crooned.
‘That’s when he wasn’t a brick wall standing between me and—’
‘All those nasty sex fantasies you had about him over the weekend?’
Flopping back onto the soft covers, Miranda blinked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. ‘There are at least three people I could have called who’ll tell me what I want to hear right now. And yet I still called you. Why is that?’
‘I’m your reality check,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘The only reason you don’t like him now is because he’s switched sides. Up till this morning he was part of your dream to do what—or who—you want, whenever you want. Now he’s part of the system keeping you in servitude.’
‘I hate that,’ Miranda admitted reluctantly.
‘Of course you do. No one likes to have a sex fantasy ruined by reality. We all prefer to live in hope.’
‘I was really hopeful,’ Miranda said wistfully.
‘And I really wanted to hear all the sordid details over lunch,’ her best friend complained. ‘I can’t believe you let this guy outwit you.’
‘I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.’
‘You learnt from the best.’
‘You’re a bad influence.’
‘I am,’ Crystal said with pride.
‘Which if you recall is part of the reason you’re not my father’s favourite person.’
‘He’s just never gonna let that reality-TV-show thing go, is he?’ she said in a tone that suggested she’d rolled her eyes. ‘You were on camera for like, five seconds.’
‘Might have helped if I wasn’t dancing on a table at the time.’
‘Does he have something against people having fun?’
It was an old debate. One Miranda knew she would never win with Mayor Kravitz. As far as hizzoner was concerned Crystal was a publicity nightmare: rich, overindulged, and for a considerable amount of time, out of control. She might since have moved on to a lucrative career of celebrity endorsements but when her fame stemmed from notoriety...
Frankly Miranda found it a little insulting he thought she could be so easily led. If she chose to she could get into trouble all on her lonesome. She didn’t need help. What she needed was the freedom to do what she wanted without her actions becoming fodder for the gossip hungry.
The thought added to her restlessness. She needed to get out for a while before the walls started to close in. Turning her head on the covers, she checked the alarm clock by her bed. ‘I’ll be at your door in a half hour.’
‘Are you going to rant some more when you get here?’
‘Probably,’ she admitted.
‘Awesome. I’ll open the wine. By the time you arrive I should be two glasses more sympathetic to your plight.’
Miranda wriggled upright, tucked her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans with some cash and pushed her feet into a waiting pair of deck shoes. Twisting her hair into a ponytail, she grabbed a baseball cap from one drawer and sunglasses from the collection in another. Ready for action she opened her bedroom door and checked the hall. Once she confirmed it was empty her lucky music talisman started playing in her head.
It wouldn’t be the first time a combination of wits, observation and an extensive study of spy movies was put to good use. As a result she knew to time her progress downstairs; to wait for the turn of the security cameras to take advantage of blind spots. She also knew the best window of opportunity for escape was at shift-change time, when the security details gathered to hand over the baton. At the foot of the stairs she stopped and held her breath, waiting for the last squeaking footsteps to disappear into the back of the house before she jogged across the foyer.
As usual the kitchen was deserted.
A bubble of exhilaration formed in her chest as she made it to the short hallway at the other side of the room. Tantalizingly close to the exit and secure in the knowledge she had an ally on the gate outside, she allowed the music in her head to become a low rhythm on the tip of her tongue. But as she reached for the handle a loud crunch made her still.
When she turned around Detective Party Pooper was leaning against the larder door with an apple in his hand.
‘The Mission Impossible theme is appropriate,’ he said with his mouth full.
Miranda gritted her teeth. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Overtime,’ he replied with a nonchalant shrug of broad shoulders. ‘Reckoned I’d keep an eye on things till the rest of the new detail is up to speed.’
How diligent of him.
She noted his appearance: the lack of a jacket, the loosened tie below an unbuttoned collar, the rolled up sleeves over tanned muscular forearms. When her pulse sped up she ignored it, refusing to have a physical reaction to his presence when she disliked him so much. Instead she focused on how quickly he’d settled in—standing there as if he owned the place and had been there forever.
‘I’m trying to decide if this counts as another strike when you haven’t left the building yet.’ He nodded firmly. ‘I’ll get back to you on that.’
When he nudged off the wall and went into the kitchen Miranda fought the need to growl. She hadn’t thrown a hissy fit since she was eight and denied a puppy, but it was tempting after a day in his company. Aiming a longing glance at the exit she sighed heavily and retraced her steps. He was standing at the island in the middle of the room when she walked in, casually flipping over the pages of a newspaper.
‘No disguise,’ he commented without looking at her. ‘Means you were going somewhere people know you.’ Another page of the newspaper flipped over. ‘Narrows it down some...’
Miranda swore she would never kiss another handsome stranger. She’d learned her lesson. They could turn into frogs. Now if her fairy godmother could just drop a bolt of lightning out of the sky and incinerate him, she promised to be a very good girl for a very long time. Even if she’d already been there and felt she’d earned a break.
In the absence of magical intervention she considered the options left open to her. She’d be damned if she was retreating to her bedroom. Neither was she staying for a friendly chat over coffee the way she used to with the members of the team she’d liked. Giving him anything resembling an order obviously wasn’t going to work and she sincerely doubted any attempt at negotiation would end in anything but a migraine.
‘I was going to stretch my legs,’ she said when the silence began to bother her.
He shook his head as he turned another page. ‘Lying sways you closer to strike two.’
‘I’m glad the trust part of this relationship is going so well.’
‘Stop treating the guys in this unit like idiots and they might trust you a lot quicker.’
Miranda bristled at the accusation. ‘You’ve been here five minutes. You don’t know anything about—’
‘How many of them do you reckon you got fired?’
‘I...’ Miranda faltered and frowned at the hesitation. She hadn’t got anyone fired. If she had she would have done something to fix it. ‘The bodyguards who left the mansion chose to leave.’
‘Ever ask yourself why?’
She lifted her chin. ‘Mac said he missed riding in a squad car.’
She’d liked Mac. He was a straight-up guy. Happily married with a young family, he’d done a lot of community policing when he left the academy and said he wanted to get back to it. They’d joked around about the squad car but when it came down to it he missed being in a position where he could talk to people. She understood that but was sorry to see him go. Unlike some people, he’d been really good about letting her make unscheduled stops for shopping or lunch when she needed to take a breather. On his last day she’d given him season tickets for the Giants because he loved football so much. She leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. Detective Smarty-pants knew squat.
‘Yeah, those things are a real sweet ride compared to the low-spec models you have parked outside.’ His gaze lifted. ‘Don’t know much about guys and cars, do you?’
‘I’m reliably informed there’s a little more to your job than the toys which go with it.’ She nodded at the gun holstered at his lean waist beside his shield. ‘It would be nice to think they don’t hand those out to everyone who thinks it’s cool to carry one.’
When he studied her more intently the memory of how he’d looked at her in the alley that morning entered her mind. For a second she’d thought he was going to kiss her again. A few hours in his company was all it had taken to dissolve her fantasy. At least she’d thought it had. But for that long stretched-out moment—as irritated as she’d been by him—she’d wanted him to kiss her.
He raised his right arm and tossed what was left of the apple through the air. As it dropped neatly into a swing-top trash can at the end of the counter he grabbed his jacket off the countertop. ‘Come on, then.’
Miranda’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Said you wanted to go for a walk, didn’t you?’
‘I don’t need your permission.’
‘No,’ he said in a low voice as he turned towards her. ‘But since you don’t get to go alone, either I go with you or you go back to your room—your call.’
‘Even if it’s not on the itinerary?’
‘Why do you think we stick to that schedule?’
Miranda lifted her gaze to the ceiling. ‘Gee, that’s a tough one.’ She looked into his eyes again. ‘But I’m going to guess it’s so I know where I’m supposed to be at certain times of the day.’
‘There’s another reason.’
She batted her lashes. ‘So the people I’m going to see know I’ll be there?’
‘Try again.’
‘So you know where to drive me?’ She pouted.
She didn’t mention it was the tip of an iceberg that could sink her if she thought about it too much. Every moment of her day was planned to the last detail: when she got up, what she ate for breakfast, the visits she made to places her parents couldn’t slot into their busy days. She clawed back control where she could—getting to choose her own wardrobe had certainly been a leap in the right direction—but it wasn’t enough any more.
It hadn’t been for a long time.
‘Every place on that list is checked by an advance.’
Oh, for goodness’ sake. How long did he think she’d been doing this? ‘They search every room, run any necessary background checks and organize escape routes. When they’re happy they brief the security details who in turn plan the route to and from the venue.’ She raised a brow. ‘Are there bonus points if I can tell you everyone’s call sign?’
‘Don’t take losing well, do you?’
‘If I’m about to go for a walk in the park when I want to, how have I lost anything?’
‘Guess it depends on whether or not that’s where you were headed, doesn’t it?’ he challenged in return. ‘And I didn’t say anything about the park. The grounds of the mansion will do.’ When she didn’t reply he tossed his jacket down. ‘But if you don’t want to go out...’
‘Fine,’ she snapped as she turned on her heel and headed back towards the exit. Getting out of the house was better than nothing. ‘But don’t feel you need to make conversation to pass the time.’
‘Just remember if you rabbit it’ll be the last time we try this,’ his deep voice rumbled in warning behind her.
Miranda looked over her shoulder. ‘Rabbit?’
‘Run,’ he translated as he rolled down a sleeve.
It was as if he spoke a different language. She pushed the door open and stepped outside, the last throes of a humid summer surrendering to the first hints of autumn in the evening air. Where was he from?
The silent question opened the floodgate for a string of others. She wanted to know how long he’d been a cop, where he’d been before he transferred to the Municipal Security Section, what age he was, if he had a family.
As she crossed the gravel to the lawn another thought occurred to her. Since the absence of a wedding ring meant nothing she didn’t even know if he was single. Asking him would be the obvious solution if he was remotely in the region of forthcoming—the fact she still didn’t know his name being a prime example. If she found out he was married she would have several names for him; none of them nice.
Ramming the baseball cap onto her head, she frowned beneath the cover of the peak. Considering how much of her mind was occupied by thoughts of him even when he was right there, she didn’t have a choice. She had to get to know him better. Ordinarily it was something she enjoyed: talking to people, listening to what they had to say and getting small glimpses of lives that were so much freer than hers.
With him it felt different, more necessary to her survival, most likely because the silence was starting to turn her into a crazy person.
She just needed to figure out a way of getting him to start a conversation when she’d told him not to.
Had to pick now to follow an order, didn’t he?
FIVE
At first Miranda’s pace was rushed, the irritation she felt at his presence obvious, particularly when he walked beside her instead of taking up the more usual position on point or a few steps behind. When she slowed and started to take everything in Tyler studied her reaction as she breathed deep and a small smile formed on her lips.
Either she’d never walked the grounds before or she was up to something. He assumed it was the latter.
Without warning she changed direction and headed for the river, stopping to look from side to side when she got to the railing. After a couple of minutes of the same thing he inevitably asked, ‘What are you looking for?’
‘Mmm?’ she hummed absent-mindedly.
‘You’re obviously looking for something.’ If it was a place to jump in the river and swim to freedom she could forget it.
‘Baby seals.’
‘What?’
‘Baby seals,’ she repeated. ‘Fuzzy bundles of joy that mummy and daddy seal made together as a token of their love for one another.’ When she shot a sparkle-eyed glance at him from beneath the peak of her baseball cap he got the impression she thought she’d won some kind of victory. ‘Didn’t they teach you about reproduction in high school?’
Like most teenage boys it hadn’t been the reproduction of seals he’d been interested in but Tyler didn’t say so out loud. Instead he checked the grounds and the river, the water still busy with tugboats and barges. There was no immediate danger but he couldn’t relax. Every muscle in his body was wound tight, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Without a means of release the tension grew, making him hyper-aware of the smallest details.
The name of the tugboat closest to them—the man standing on the prow of a barge—the water lapping against algae-covered rocks—the way a breeze from the river brushed a loose tendril of flame-red hair against the sensitive skin on her neck. He frowned as it swayed back and forth in a whispered touch that made his fingertips itch.
The ability to store large quantities of miscellaneous information in the back of his head until he needed to call on it was something Tyler had always taken for granted. It allowed him to focus his mind and manage the most immediate tasks. In many ways his brain acted like a computer with several open programs, a dozen others working in the background and plenty of spare memory. If that was the case she was messing with his operating system. Every time his eyes opened an image of her the screen froze.
‘They’re supposed to be around here somewhere,’ she continued. ‘There was a picture on Twitter.’
‘Right,’ he said dryly. He’d never been a Twitter fan but he knew she was popular there. It was the one area he hadn’t been allowed to suggest changes.
From a protection standpoint he thought regularly reporting her location to all and sundry was an unnecessary risk. From the perspective of the mayor’s press office her online presence was a valuable publicity tool. That they wouldn’t budge on the subject still bugged him.
But not as much as all the standing around he’d been doing since he reported for duty.
‘I don’t think they constitute a breach in security if that’s what you’re worried about.’ She glanced up at him again. ‘Isn’t it supposed to be dolphins they train to carry explosives?’ When he didn’t say anything, she leaned an elbow on the railing and turned toward him. ‘You don’t have a sense of humour, do you?’
‘Would it save time if I told you I wasn’t here to make friends?’
‘I’m shocked,’ she replied without batting an eye.
Tyler fought his nature. Normally he gave as good as he got; with a woman who looked the way she did it would probably involve a heavy dose of flirting. He could lay on the charm when he set his mind to it. But even if he hadn’t been assigned to the position of babysitter his skills were a little rusty. Hadn’t had much call to use them when he was buried in work was the easiest explanation. Hadn’t met anyone he wanted to use them on was another.
But there was a reason for that.
When the thought conjured an image of long dark hair and soulful brown eyes it didn’t improve his mood.
‘That’s how you got some of the others to turn a blind eye, isn’t it?’
She raised an elegantly arched brow. ‘What are we talking about now?’
‘Your little adventures...’
‘What adventures?’
Tyler cut to the chase. ‘I do my homework. There isn’t anything I don’t know about you.’
There was a melodic burst of dismissive laughter. ‘I very much doubt that.’
He summoned the necessary information without missing a beat. ‘Miranda Eleanor Kravitz, twenty-four, born in Manhattan, raised in Vermont, moved back to New York prior to your father becoming mayor when you were seventeen.’
‘Sixteen,’ she corrected. ‘Elections are in November.’
‘He didn’t take up office until January. Your birthday is December fourteenth. You were seventeen.’ He picked up where he’d left off before she interrupted. ‘You were a straight “A” student in high school, made the honour roll and in the final year took one of the leads in a stage production of Twelfth Night.’ It was probably where she’d picked up her acting skills. ‘Fluent in Spanish and French, studied English literature at NYU. By the time you left you’d danced on a table in a reality TV show and made headlines twice—once when you were caught drunk partying with the same infamous party girl who—’
‘Has my bra size made it to Wikipedia yet?’
When the old Tyler made a rare appearance his gaze automatically lowered to the scooped neck of her T-shirt. ‘No, but I’m willing to go out on a limb and say you’re a—’
‘Eyes north, Detective,’ she warned in a lower voice.
Irritated he’d stepped over the line again, Tyler snapped his gaze back up. ‘The investigation I did before I got here involved more than Googling your name. I talked to every bodyguard assigned to you and know exactly how you roll. There isn’t an escape route I haven’t plugged or a former cohort who hasn’t been reassigned. The guy on the gate tonight is new, too, so you wouldn’t have got far. You don’t have any friends in the security team any more. What you have is people focused on doing their jobs who’ll end up back in uniform if they don’t.’
The gold in her eyes flared. ‘What is your problem?’
‘Until you accept you’re not going anywhere without me or one of the other guys on your new detail, it’s you.’
‘You’re not my keeper.’
Tyler stepped around her. ‘Well, obviously they figured you needed one or I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Who are “they”?’ she asked as she followed him.
‘Who do you think they are?’
She muttered something incoherent below her breath but judging by her tone it wasn’t a word she’d picked up from a study of English literature.
When he stopped and turned around she took a step back and frowned at the centre of his chest.
‘This close to the election you’re a liability,’ he told her flatly. ‘Three weeks back you were photographed sitting on a bar while some random guy licked salt off your neck before taking a shot of tequila.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Jealous?’
‘Personally I couldn’t give a damn what you do.’ Even if his reaction to seeing the photographs after he kissed her might have suggested otherwise. ‘The only thing that concerns me is making sure it doesn’t happen again. Some major favours were called in to keep those pictures out of the public eye.’
Any surprise she felt was hidden behind a mask of ice. ‘It’s just as well there wasn’t anyone with a camera in a darkened hall on Friday night, then, isn’t it?’
When she turned on her heel and headed back to the mansion Tyler let her get a few steps ahead. He needed to take a beat. Her parting shot had been bang on target but that wasn’t what grated him. What did was the indifference in her voice. He wasn’t the only one who got carried away in that hall. The implication he could have been just another guy lining up to lick salt off her neck bothered him a great deal more than it should.
At a very basic level he wanted to march on over there and demonstrate she was wrong. A Brannigan never backed down from a challenge. Trouble was they were also carved with deep streaks of honour and duty and while he knew how close he was to breaking one code, he had to hang on tight to the other. If he didn’t there would be nothing left of the man he was before everything got so messed up.
‘Go home, Detective,’ she demanded when they were back in the kitchen.
‘No can do,’ he informed her retreating back.
When she turned he got a brief glimpse of how angry she was from the flash of fire in her eyes. Then the ice returned. ‘I’ll make a deal with you.’
‘What kind of deal?’
‘I’ll give you my word I’ll stay in tonight and that way you won’t have to camp outside my door.’ She ran an impassive gaze down the length of his body and back up. ‘A good night’s sleep might help with all the tension you’re carrying around...’
Tyler treated her to his patented interrogation face: the one that said nothing short of a nuclear blast would change his position. ‘What’s the catch?’
She shook her head. ‘No catch.’
‘What do you get out of it?’
‘Apart from a break from you?’
The thought he got to her went a long way towards evening the playing field, but there was more to it than that. ‘You want something.’
‘World peace, an end to poverty, freedom and justice for all... I want a great many things, Detective. But for now I’ll settle for your name.’
What was the big deal with his name? He ran through every possible scam she could be running and came up short. But with his Spidey-senses on alert he knew whatever she was doing was part of something bigger. That was okay, he could play the long game, and if giving her a name was what it took to give him a few hours he could put to better use than standing twiddling his thumbs or sleeping...
‘Tyler.’
‘Tyler,’ she repeated in a lower voice as if savouring how it felt on her tongue.
Hearing her say it had a mesmerizing effect he’d never experienced before. Time stretched inexorably while she stared at him, her chin angled in contemplation. As he tried to figure out why his blood had thickened to the same consistency as magma when she hadn’t done anything overtly seductive, she blinked and turned away.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, Tyler.’
‘You leave this house, I’ll know inside five seconds.’
She raised an arm and waggled her fingers in the air. ‘Nighty-night.’
Tyler stood in the same spot after she left, trying to decide whether he trusted her any further than he could throw her. His word meant something—or at least it used to; he wasn’t convinced hers did. Then his cell phone vibrated.
‘Brannigan.’
‘So what’s it like with the city’s version of the Secret Service?’
The sound of his partner’s voice got him moving again. ‘Don’t ask,’ he said as he left the kitchen and headed for the control room. ‘Got anything new for me?’
‘There weren’t any DNA hits in the database.’
‘It took them a month to tell us that?’
‘Backed up in the lab...’
‘What about the known associates we’ve been chasing?’
‘There I might have better news.’
Tyler nodded brusquely. ‘Save it for when I see you. I’ll be at O’Malley’s by nine.’
‘If I end up divorced I’m blaming you.’
‘Because all your kids look like me?’
The response made the corner of Tyler’s mouth lift. It was the closest he got to a smile any more. Pretending nothing was wrong when he was around the people who knew him was wearing him down. From that point of view his day with the mayor’s daughter had been a welcome respite.
He just had to get a handle on his reaction to her while he was still volatile.
There’d been a time when not getting involved had never been a problem for him the way it had for other members of his family. He’d kept his distance and remained detached, gaining a rep for being emotionally unavailable to women along the way. Once he’d made the mistake of thinking he could handle a little attachment he’d fallen flat on his face. To top it off he’d overcompensated and it had cost someone their life.
Sometimes he thought he saw her face in a crowd: dull, lifeless eyes staring at him in silent accusation. She was a ghost who followed him everywhere.
He shouldn’t have left her alone.
The thought gave him a moment’s pause outside the room that housed the security monitors. From inside he could hear the voices of the men whose presence meant he wasn’t leaving the mayor’s daughter unprotected even if there was an immediate threat.
There was no reason for him to feel torn.
A small army of people surrounded Miranda Kravitz and, though they might not have kept her out of trouble, they had plenty of practice cushioning her from the world beyond the walls of the mansion. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a voice, either. Half her problem with him was he didn’t let her get her own way when she was plainly accustomed to getting whatever she wanted.
Tyler stood up for the people who didn’t have a voice, who didn’t have the opportunities she’d been given or the ability to escape their lives when they felt like it. If she broke her word, she would pay for it. He’d see to that.
She might think he’d been tough on her the first day, but she had no idea how ruthless he could be.
SIX
The small victories gained when she got him to start a conversation and give her the name she so badly wanted to know were enough to allow Miranda to cut him some slack. She wouldn’t break her word. What helped him more was that he’d given her somewhere else to focus her ire. After a night of enforced captivity she was determined to fight for her rights.
‘Good morning, Miranda.’
‘Good morning, Grace.’ She saw the surprise in the older woman’s eyes when she appeared outside her father’s office. ‘Is the mayor in?’
‘He’s having breakfast with the chief of police.’
‘Where is my mother?’
‘I believe she’s still in the morning room.’
When she turned on her heel Grace grabbed her file, rounded her desk and rushed down the hall after her. ‘You have a nine a.m. appointment in Brooklyn at—’
‘Not now, Grace.’ It was rude and she was sorry for that but they both knew the morning briefing was more habit than necessity. Miranda knew where she was going days in advance—weeks for the functions that required more forwards planning. If she didn’t how was she supposed to know what to wear or find time to research things she knew nothing about so she could hold a conversation?
Two sets of eyes looked across the morning room as she entered without knocking. ‘Could you give us a moment, please, Roger?’ Once the door shut behind him Miranda took a deep breath. ‘I won’t be held prisoner in this house.’
‘Sit down, darling.’
‘I don’t want to sit down,’ she said without moving. ‘What I want is to be treated like an adult.’
‘Start behaving like one and you will,’ her mother replied with the infinite patience that drove her daughter insane when she was upset about something. ‘Now take a seat and tell me what’s wrong.’
‘You knew, didn’t you?’
‘Knew what?’
‘About the changes to my security detail.’
‘It’s hardly the first change of personnel since we took up residence.’ Her mother raised a brow. ‘Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?’
‘When they were brought in specifically to keep me out of trouble in case I prove an embarrassment to you during the campaign?’
‘Well, obviously we would prefer to avoid any negative publicity this close to—’
‘I’m more than aware of the responsibilities forced on me since my teens, Mother. I don’t need a reminder.’
‘Yet your father and I are being given increasingly regular reports of your acts of rebellion.’ She gracefully folded her hands together on her lap. ‘We were elected to set an example. People expect more of this family. That’s the life we live.’
‘We weren’t elected,’ Miranda reminded her. ‘Dad was. I didn’t choose to run for office and I wasn’t elected to the position of your daughter. Doesn’t the fact I’ve lived someone else’s life for half of mine count for anything?’
‘Like it or not, you’re still the mayor’s daughter. This is his last term in office and—’
‘If he’s elected or are we taking that for granted? Throwing pots of money at the campaign isn’t an automatic guarantee of success.’
‘We’re a family, Miranda. We stick together through everything. Once the election is over—’
A small burst of sarcastic laughter left her lips. ‘I’m supposed to do what—wait until he decides whether he wants to confirm the rumours and run for Governor? Why stop there—what about the White House?’
‘That’s your father’s decision.’
‘And how I choose to live my life is mine. If you want me to act like a grown-up you have to allow me to be one. How am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if I’m not permitted to make any?’
‘Your argument might carry more weight if there was any evidence to support it,’ her mother replied. ‘We gave you more freedom at NYU and you repaid our trust by having your picture splashed across several tabloids.’
Miranda’s frustration grew. ‘I love dancing and got drunk when I turned twenty-one—how does that make me worse than any other college student in America? I could have been running around in a wet T-shirt during spring break or got arrested at student protests. I could have experimented with drugs or slept with guys who were happy to make a buck selling all the gory details to the press. I didn’t but none of those things matter any more than the long hours I work. Did it occur to either one of you that turning this place into the equivalent of Alcatraz would make the need for escape more necessary? Why do you think Richie chose to attend a college on the other side of the country?’
‘There’s no need to raise your voice. If you would learn how to state your case calmly and sensibly the way your brother does—’
Miranda shook her head. No matter how often she tried to communicate with her mother every conversation left her feeling like a petulant teenager. The truth was her parents didn’t know their son any better than their daughter. While they had disappeared off to countless business meetings, charity benefits and met with people who were keen for her father to launch his political career their daughter had become a surrogate mother.
She’d read her baby brother bedtime stories and made sure he did his homework. She’d put Band-Aids on cuts, watched cartoons when he was sick and held his hand when they’d had to face a world filled with curious eyes.
No one had done those things for her.
‘I’m done,’ she said flatly. ‘I’ll stick around for the election but once the votes are counted, I’m out. No more public appearances, no more smiling for photographers and no bodyguards following me everywhere I go. I never wanted one to begin with and I don’t see why the taxpayer should suffer because my overprotective parents want to control my every move.’
It meant breaking the pact she’d made with her brother but it couldn’t be helped. Not when another eight months felt like a life sentence.
There was a heavy sigh as she turned away. ‘Miranda—’
‘I’m going to be late for my first appointment.’ When she yanked the door open and stepped into the hall her gaze lifted and crashed into cobalt-blue eyes.
Her breath caught. Tyler.
With her heart still beating hard as a result of a long-overdue parental confrontation she experienced the same difficulty she had the last time his name echoed in her mind. She couldn’t break eye contact, was frozen in place and her brain seemed to have turned into mush.
He broke the spell with the blink of dense lashes and held out a sheet of paper. ‘I told Grace I’d make sure you got this.’
‘Thank you.’ She took the schedule with one hand and closed the door behind her with the other.
‘You ready to go?’
‘I need a couple of minutes.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll be outside.’
Miranda turned the sheet of paper in her hands as they walked down the hall. When she stole an upward glance at his profile she saw the corner of his mouth lift.
‘Bye, Grace,’ his voice rumbled.
‘Bye, Tyler.’
Her gaze shifted in time to catch a glimpse of what looked like a hint of warmth on the older woman’s cheeks. In all the years she’d known her, she’d never seen Grace blush. Or be flustered enough to feel the need to shuffle the papers on her desk. Had he just winked at her?
The thought was surreal.
When she stole another glance as they approached the top of the stairs he caught her doing it. Adopting the same impassive expression he was wearing, she simply blinked and looked away. If there was one thing she’d learnt about him it was when he had something to say he didn’t have any difficulty opening his mouth. Keeping it shut on the subject of anything he might have heard through the door would be her advice.
When he remained silent she lifted the sheet of paper and glanced over her day.
‘You need any help with the big words, let me know.’
The comment made her glare at him in warning before they parted ways but as she continued down the hall to her bedroom something unexpected happened: she smiled.
Unwittingly he’d given her exactly what she needed to face the day. Combined with the knowledge that her release date was closer, it placed a spring in her step that hadn’t been there before.
SEVEN
Something was eating at Tyler.
Usually it meant he’d missed something—a random clue or part of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. That Miranda would make another bid for freedom was a given. What he didn’t get was why it suddenly felt wrong to stand in her way.
Hearing what he’d heard through the door that morning probably had something to do with it. The knowledge she hadn’t wanted a bodyguard helped raise his opinion of her a notch, even if she was under the misconception she didn’t need one. But then she didn’t know what he knew, did she?
His gaze scanned the room, but with little cause for concern among a bunch of kids and schoolteachers it slid back to his mark. The long legs encased in sharply tailored dark grey trousers were folded elegantly to the side, one high-heeled open-toed white shoe tapping in time to the music while she smiled. Judging by the sparkle in her eyes, she would probably agree calling the recital music was a bit of a stretch but it didn’t seem to dilute her enjoyment any.
Maybe that was what was eating him: her mood.
She’d been Little Miss Sunshine since she appeared outside the mansion.
When the cacophony of sound limped its way to an overly enthusiastic end she led the applause and stood up. ‘Thank you, that was wonderful. The mayor would have loved this. If you keep practising and get to Radio City Music Hall I’ll make sure he has front-row tickets.’
Tyler doubted there was an adult present who didn’t think they would need to be practising for a very long time before that happened. Opening the door, he stepped into the empty hall, inhaling the scent he’d had so much difficulty ignoring on the trip over as she passed within inches of him. It was different from the sophisticated perfume she’d worn the day before. Since he wasn’t up to date on flowers he couldn’t identify what it had been but now he thought about it he reckoned it was probably something like lilies or lilac. The one she was currently wearing was sweeter, more playful and made him wonder if she matched her perfume to where she was going with as much care as her clothes.
If she did it was clever. Even if he could have done without the constant trace of strawberries in the air as a reminder of how she’d tasted on his lips.
He followed a few steps behind as the head teacher and members of the board escorted her along the hall. When his gaze lowered to the feminine sway of her hips he hid a frown of annoyance and forced it elsewhere.
‘This next class is made up of children with learning difficulties,’ the principal explained. ‘The ratio of teacher and classroom assistant to pupil is higher.’
‘What is the age range?’ Miranda asked.
‘Between six and eight...’
When they filed inside Tyler took up position by the door again. After a cursory inventory of his surroundings, the occupants and checking the line of sight through the windows there wasn’t much else for him to do but continue watching her. He justified the action by telling himself he was searching for the clue he might have missed, examining everything from her introductory wave to how she interacted with the children as she moved from one small desk to the next. She crouched down to eye level, asked questions and listened carefully to the answers. From time to time she ruffled the odd tousled head of hair, her hundred-watt smile flashing more than once.
It wasn’t dissimilar to the act she’d put on with the elderly in the Bronx the day before but Tyler couldn’t shake the sensation something was different.
As the principal explained some of the ways they made it easier for the kids to stay focused somewhat ironically Miranda’s attention wandered. When her gaze landed on something at his side of the room and she angled her chin with curiosity, Tyler looked to see what it was.
A little girl with blonde hair sat on padded mats on the floor a few feet away, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around her as she swapped one thick crayon for another and continued colouring a sheet of paper.
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