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Otherwise Engaged
Cara Summers
When Tyler Sheridan discovers through the personal ads that her groom isn't planning to show up for their wedding, she thinks it can't get any worse. That is, until she hooks up with seriously sexy P.I. Nick Romano to find her erstwhile fiance…and ends up wishing her had taken out his ad sooner…Nick Romano has had it–with the detective business and with women! But when gorgeous, desperate Tyler shows up at his door, what can he do but help her out? Only he'd never guessed how good they'd be together–in bed and out. But a future isn't in the cards for them. Especially since Tyler's still wearing another man's ring…
“What do you want?” Nick asked.
“You,” Tyler purred.
It was a word he’d have begged to hear in other circumstances. “Tyler, I…”
She moved toward him. “Please. Can’t we just pretend? I want to go back to the moment when I first walked into your office. Only you’re not the P.I. my grandmother sent me to. You’re just a man and I’m a woman.”
Nick sighed. If this was what Tyler needed right now, he couldn’t deny her.
She ran her hand along his chest. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you. I felt as if I’d die if I didn’t touch you. I felt I might die if I did.”
Her words had his mind clouding, his blood thickening. He wanted to reach for her but he wasn’t sure he could lift his arms.
“And then I would have done this.” Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips against his, then pressed tiny kisses against his neck, his chest. “Once I started, I wouldn’t have been able to stop.” She moved her mouth lower. “And I’m afraid I can’t stop now…”
Dear Reader,
What would happen if a happily engaged woman suddenly met Mr. Absolutely Wrong—at the right time? That’s what happens to my heroine, Tyler Sheridan, when she discovers through “The Personal Touch!” that her fiancé isn’t planning to make an appearance at their wedding.
Writing Otherwise Engaged was so much fun! First of all, it allowed me to create the Romano family. They’re fun-loving, hardworking and, with the exception of Nick, all great cooks. They remind me a great deal of the Italian side of my own family.
Secondly, it gave me the opportunity to write the kind of story I like best—where two people from very different worlds meet and can’t help themselves from falling in love. Nick is a street-smart New York P.I. Tyler’s a prim Boston socialite. They never should have met. And they wouldn’t have…if not for an ad in “The Personal Touch!”
I hope you have fun reading about Nick and Tyler’s romantic misadventures. I’d love to hear what you think. Write to me at P.O. Box 327, Dewitt, NY 13214.
Enjoy!
Cara Summers
Otherwise Engaged
Cara Summers
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With love to all my children:
Kevin, Brian and Mary, Brendan and Heather.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u66c5249e-7478-5d7e-9175-42e7fe413151)
Chapter 2 (#u20b7cabe-b870-51eb-b58e-878c0bf7bca9)
Chapter 3 (#ua3872f0a-ea5d-5f32-acef-89828349e47c)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
1
TMS—Sorry I’ll miss the wedding. I’ll be in touch.
Remember Scarlet and Annie. RJL
DISASTER. Tyler Sheridan’s fingers had started tingling the moment she’d read the ad. They always did when something bad was about to happen. And getting a Dear John letter from her fiancé in the Personals went way beyond bad!
Her first reaction had been to close her eyes and pinch herself. But when she’d finally steeled herself to look again, the ad was still there, the message still the same. That was when the rational part of her brain had kicked in. It had to be a mistake. It was someone’s idea of a joke. Richard couldn’t have placed the ad. She’d just call him and he’d be able to explain.
Sixteen hours later, she’d had to face the fact that Richard James Lawrence, prominent Manhattan accountant, the man she was supposed to marry in a week, couldn’t explain anything because he’d disappeared.
She had to get him back! Her whole future as CEO of Sheridan Trust, one of Boston’s most prestigious investment firms, depended on finding Richard and convincing him to go through with the wedding. A jilted bride was not going to inspire the confidence of her board of trustees—not when she was already on probation.
The panic bubbling up inside her had sent her to the special file her grandmother had given her just before she died. In it was a business card and a letter of introduction she was supposed to use in just such an emergency. Isabelle Sheridan’s exact words had been “If you want something done quickly and with the utmost secrecy, go to Manhattan and hire Nick Romano.”
But now that she was here and about to enter the offices of Romano Investigations, her fingers had begun to tingle again. Had she come to the right place? The neighborhood wasn’t quite as upscale as she’d expected, and the building was old. Seedy was the word that came to mind as she’d taken the elevator to the fifth floor, and nothing she saw as she started down the dim hallway dislodged it. Try as she might, she could not picture her grandmother, the strong-minded, impeccably groomed woman who’d ruled Sheridan Trust with an iron hand for thirty years, ever coming to a place like this.
Fishing the business card out of her pocket, she glanced down at the address and once more assured herself that she’d come to the right building, the right floor. No one had answered when she’d called from her hotel, but a recorded voice had informed her the office would open at nine. As she reached the end of the hall, she saw that it hadn’t lied. The bold black letters on the frosted glass read N. Romano, Private Investigations. And the door was wide open.
In the light filtering through the broken blinds, Tyler could make out a battered desk with a goose-necked lamp. The scene was suddenly very familiar. Hadn’t she seen it before in old movies where the desperate heroine sought out the help of a street-wise private eye? It certainly wasn’t a part she’d ever expected to play in real life. And she couldn’t imagine Isabelle Sheridan playing it, either.
But Tyler had to find Richard.
Ignoring the fresh wave of tingles in her fingers, she took a deep breath and walked in. A quick glance around told her the room was empty—
Except for the body sprawled full length on the couch. Curious, she moved forward to get a better look.
It was a nearly naked male body. Not able to tear her gaze away, she watched his bare chest rise and fall. Lean and muscled, it was sprinkled with dark hair that narrowed before disappearing beneath the waistband of his bicycle shorts.
She suddenly realized that her fingers had reached out, close enough to nearly brush against that smooth, tan skin, more than close enough to feel its warmth. Snatching her hand back, she fisted it at her side. What in the world was wrong with her? She didn’t go around touching strange men. Slowly she drew in a deep breath and let it out as she tried to gather her thoughts.
This couldn’t possibly be Nick Romano, could it? She tore her gaze from his body long enough to glance down at the card again. Below the name, she could just make out the words her grandmother had scrawled— “very discrete.” Frowning thoughtfully, Tyler let her eyes travel over him again, taking in the lean, roughly handsome face, then lingering again on the tanned skin stretched taut over long bones and muscle.
There was nothing discrete about this man. He had the kind of body Italian sculptors had captured over and over again in marble and bronze. Though she’d seen countless pieces in museums, she’d never had a desire to touch any of them.
And she certainly wasn’t going to touch this man, either. She was a nearly married woman. He was a nearly naked man. Forcing the wayward thought out of her mind, she curled her fingers into fists. It had to be the heat. Manhattan and most of the northeast had been suffering temperatures in the mid-nineties for almost a week, and the air-conditioning drifting in from the hall had lost its battle with the sun pouring through the tall glass windows. It was definitely the heat, she assured herself as a nasty drip of sweat made its way down her back. But she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the sensation that something about this man was reaching out to her, tugging at her….
She wanted to move forward almost as much as she wanted to run.
Sheridans never run. Drawing in a deep breath, Tyler repeated the words in her head and stood her ground. If this was indeed Nick Romano, she needed his help. If he wasn’t, he was the only person around who could tell her that. Either way she had to handle him. No, handle the situation. She’d solved worse problems in the Sheridan Trust boardroom, hadn’t she?
Suddenly, she had it! Every modern corporate CEO was trained in visualization techniques. She’d just put some clothes on him—a dark gray suit, white shirt, a deeper gray in the striped tie…Slowly the picture formed in her mind. Only then did she clear her throat and say, “Excuse me—”
He shot up and off the couch, his hand whipping around to his back. Tyler took one quick step in retreat before she could stop herself. He was reaching for a gun. She was sure of it, even though his hand came up empty. And a gun would have been easier to face than this man’s eyes. Dark and potent, they sliced into her and dried up her throat.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the fierceness faded. His gaze narrowed. In that same instant she became aware of how close they were standing. He was larger now that he was standing up. And somehow in that leap off the couch, the clothes she’d pictured him in had fallen off.
Sheridans never run. She clung to the thought while the two stood motionless, facing each other.
“You didn’t knock,” he finally said.
Tyler swallowed. In a minute, just as soon as her system leveled, she was going to have to put those clothes right back on him again. “The door was wide open. I’m looking for Nick Romano.”
“Well, you found him, sugar—”
But it wasn’t until he glanced past her that Tyler let out the rest of the breath she’d been holding.
“And the only reason that door was open was because I was hoping that some of the air-conditioning would drift in from the hall.”
Tyler looked at the unit filling one of the windows. “Why didn’t you just turn yours on?”
“The electricity’s been shut off,” he said.
For the first time she noticed the file drawers, open and empty, the boxes stacked neatly against the wall.
“You’re moving?” she asked, turning back to him with a frown.
“That’s right.”
“That would explain your clothes, I suppose.”
He glanced down at himself, and when his gaze once more returned to hers, the amusement was clear. “Something wrong?”
Tyler’s brows rose. “You’ll have to admit, even for a dress-down Friday, they’re a little skimpy.”
Nick grinned. “Very funny. The truth is, I was thinking of taking a run, but it was hot and the couch called out to me.”
Tyler found herself staring as the warmth of his smile lit his face, transforming him into the antithesis of the warrior who’d sprung off the couch. She found herself wanting to smile right back at him. But the moment he took a step toward her, she drew herself up and focused. “The case I want you to take is urgent. In addition to your fee, I’ll cover whatever it will cost to reschedule the movers.”
“No.”
The grin had faded, but she still had the distinct feeling he was laughing at her. Moving to the desk, she took her checkbook out of her purse and uncapped her pen. “I’m not making myself clear. You can name your fee.”
“No.”
She jumped when he touched her. His grip was gentle, firm, and she was very much aware of the press of each one of his fingers on the inside of her arm. So aware that she didn’t realize her feet were moving until she found that he’d led her into the hallway.
“Look, lady, let’s start over.” His tone was patient, controlled, reminding her of any one of several nannies she’d had before she’d been shipped off to boarding school.
She wanted to slap him.
“Let’s pretend you’ve just come up in the elevator,” Nick continued, “and when you got here, the door was shut. You knocked, but there was no answer because Romano Investigations closed shop last night at 5:00 p.m. You missed hiring me by about fifteen hours. I can recommend my cousin Sam. He used to work for me, and he just got a job with a big security firm uptown. See—” he tapped a finger on the door “—I taped one of his business cards right here.” Ripping it free, he handed it to her. “He’ll be happy to take your money.”
Tyler watched, stunned, as he shut the door of his office in her face. She heard the lock click, then his footsteps growing fainter. She very much wanted to give the door a good, swift kick. But she didn’t. Sheridans didn’t kick doors. That had been drilled into her by the time she was three. She wanted to scream, too. That phase had lasted until she was five.
But worst of all, she wanted to cry. She could feel the hot needle-like pricks burning at the back of her eyes. She hadn’t cried since she was eleven. Not even at her grandmother’s funeral six months ago. Taking a deep breath, she blinked away the dampness. Nick Romano was not going to make her cry. So what if he’d closed shop. He could just open it up again. She had to get him to help her. There was no one else.
She had taken two steps toward the closed door, her hand raised to knock, when her cell phone rang. Only two people had her number: Naomi Prescott, her personal assistant, and Richard. Please, God, let it be Richard. Unsnapping her purse, she grabbed the phone and flipped it open. “Yes?”
“Tyler, Naomi gave me your number. She tells me you flew to New York last night. Is everything all right?”
Howard. Drawing in a deep breath, Tyler struggled to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Everything’s fine, Howard.”
Howard Tremaine was her mother’s fourth husband, the third that Claudia Tyler Sheridan had chosen to marry since Tyler’s father had died, and the only one who’d shown an interest in working at Sheridan Trust. He’d appointed himself her personal advisor ever since she’d stepped into her grandmother’s shoes.
“You’d tell me if something was going wrong with the Bradshaw deal? I could be on the next plane.”
“Everything is right on schedule.” Tyler sent up another quick prayer. Sheridan Trust had been pursuing Bradshaw Enterprises for months before her grandmother died, but Tyler had been the one to convince Hamilton Bradshaw to come aboard. The papers were to be signed at a family dinner at his Manhattan apartment on Sunday. Richard was supposed to escort her. Howard and her mother were to be there too, because Hamilton Bradshaw had a fondness for family-run companies.
“And you’re sure that everything is all right between you and Richard? He was supposed to fly in last night, wasn’t he?”
“Richard and I are fine, Howard. I just decided it would be easier to play hooky if I flew to Manhattan. Certainly a bride and groom have the right to do that eight days before the wedding.”
“Playing hooky?” He gave an audible sigh. “Well, I’m delighted to hear it. I think it’s great you’ve decided to relax a little. I was afraid that you might have had some kind of lover’s quarrel, or, worse still, that you’d decided to elope and cheat us all out of the elegant bash your mother has planned next Saturday.”
Tyler made herself smile, hoping it would show in her voice. “No, it’s nothing like that, Howard. Richard and I have never quarreled. And if I eloped, it would tarnish the image you’ve been helping me create for the board of trustees. They’d pull the plug on me even before my year’s probation is up. Besides, Hamilton Bradshaw is planning on attending the wedding. I wouldn’t want him disappointed in Sheridan Trust before he has time to settle in.”
Even as she spoke, a totally different image formed in her mind. It was a scene she’d watched hundreds of times in movies. Papers were rolling off the presses, the music was swelling, and there she was on the cover of the Boston Globe in her bridal dress and veil, waiting at the altar alone. Above her the headline screamed, Tyler Sheridan, Acting CEO of Sheridan Trust, Jilted!
“Tyler…are you still there?”
Tyler swallowed the tight ball of panic lodged in her throat. “Yes?”
“I thought I lost you for a moment. Tell Richard to give me a call later. I have some last-minute bachelor party things to go over with him. I’ll cover for you here.”
“Thanks, Howard. ’Bye.”
For just a moment, Tyler let herself lean against the wall. Howard was one of the few people at Sheridan Trust who had given her his unquestioning support since her grandmother’s death. And his interest in working at Sheridan Trust had brought her mother back to Boston. Tyler had begun to hope that the rift between her mother and grandmother would eventually heal. For fourteen years, ever since Tyler’s father had died, Claudia and Isabelle had blamed each other for his death.
Still, she couldn’t tell Howard, she couldn’t tell anyone yet that Richard was missing. The only person she could confide in was Nick Romano. If her grandmother said he could be trusted, he could. She had to believe that. There was no other choice. In a minute, just as soon as she was in control, she was going to make him help her.
