Trish Wylie - Her Man in Manhattan

‘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.

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