Trish Wylie - Her Man in Manhattan

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...