Trish Wylie - Her Man in Manhattan

‘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.