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WITH ONE QUICK SWEEP of his arm, Nick scooped everything on his desk into a box. He’d done the right thing. So why the hell did he feel like he’d kicked a defenseless puppy? Pulling out a drawer, he dumped it unceremoniously into the next box.
That woman was not defenseless. He knew the type—a spoiled rich girl, swimming in inherited wealth and certain that it could buy her anything she wanted. His sisters and his mother would have admired the style of that neat little suit she wore. His own taste ran to her legs. They were first class, just like the rest of her. And in spite of the heat, she’d looked picture perfect, not one strand of that pale-gold hair out of place, not one wrinkle in her clothes. Nothing loose, nothing unbuttoned. At any other time, he’d have been tempted to muss her up a bit. Just thinking about it made his lips curve.
Propping a hip against the side of his desk, Nick let his gaze return to the door. She’d been young too, not more than twenty-four or five. And there’d been that flash of fear he’d seen in her eyes when he’d leapt off the couch. In spite of it, she hadn’t run and she hadn’t screamed.
Courage. He’d always been a sucker for it. Nick glanced at the phone. She couldn’t have left the building yet. There was a chance he could still catch—
No. He stopped himself before he could start for the door. No way. Little Miss Picture Perfect was the last thing he needed right now. He was out of the PI business for good. After ten years, the cage door had finally swung open.
His job with a law firm in L.A. would finally allow him to achieve his dream of practicing law. Though he’d received his degree over a year ago, he had yet to put it to any use in Manhattan. There was always one last investigation to finish, one last favor to do before he could close his office. In California, no one need ever know he’d been a P.I. for ten years. No one would seek him out and beg him to take just one last case. Rising, he walked over to his computer and pulled the plug out of the wall, then out of the machine. As he coiled it and dropped it in an open box, he concentrated on the new life that was waiting for him out in California. His mother’s boutique was making a steady profit, and between that and what he’d be able to send her each month, his two sisters would make it through college. He was a free man!
The phone rang. Nick sent it a frown. He had a pretty good idea who it was. The smart thing to do was let it ring, let his answering machine pick it up. But he reached for it all the same. “Romano here.”
“You didn’t let me introduce myself. I’m Tyler Sheridan.”
Nick heard the warning bell ringing in the back of his mind. “So?”
“My grandmother was Isabelle Sheridan of Sheridan Trust in Boston. You did some work for her. She said I could trust you. I have a letter of introduction in my purse.”
Nick scowled first at the phone, then at the door. Why in hell had he left it open? Turning, he glared at the couch. If he hadn’t fallen asleep—
“Mr. Romano, are you still there?”
“Yeah.” A few hours later and he wouldn’t have been. He’d have missed Miss Tyler Sheridan completely. Why was it that today of all days, the past had to reach out and grab him?
“Could you please let me in? My business is private.”
Hanging up the phone, Nick walked to the door. The fact that she was Isabelle Sheridan’s granddaughter changed nothing, he told himself. The promise he’d made had concerned the old lady. Any obligation had ended when she’d died. Opening the door, he said, “I was sorry to hear about your grandmother’s death.”
“Thank you.”
She moved past him quickly, but not before he’d seen the pain flash into her eyes. Isabelle had died six months ago, but this woman was still grieving. With a silent sigh, Nick closed the door. He knew how hard it was to lose family.
“How much should I make the check out for?”
“Forget about the check.” Even as he said the words, he discovered that it was much easier to refuse the spoiled rich girl than the woman who’d lost her grandmother. He’d read about Isabelle Sheridan’s sudden death in the papers. And he’d also glanced through several profiles written about the young woman who was standing before him, the woman Isabelle had personally groomed to take her place at the head of a multibillion-dollar investment firm. Only, the old lady hadn’t planned on dying so soon, because Tyler Sheridan looked much too young for the job. “Look, I’m not in the PI business anymore. I have a new job in L.A that starts next week. The best I can do for you is escort you to my cousin Sam’s office and personally introduce you. He’s the best—”
“I want you. My grandmother said in an emergency to use you—no one else. I can’t afford to share any of this with a stranger.”
“Why don’t you use the security firm in Boston that your grandmother used?” Nick asked.
“Because my business is…personal, and my—This problem is here in Manhattan.”
Her voice had tightened slightly, and her knuckles had turned white where they were gripping her purse. Those were the only signs that beneath that cool, unflappable exterior, she was wound tight. Contrasts had always intrigued him. Once again Nick fought against his weakening resolve. “Let me see if I can guess. You want me to tail your boyfriend and see if he’s cheating on you?”
Two bright spots of color stained her cheeks. “I’m not going to discuss the case until you agree to take it.” Then suddenly her eyes widened. “That can’t be the only kind of work you do. I’m sure that’s not the kind of work you did for my grandmother—”
He saw the flash of doubt in her eyes and the curiosity.
“Was it?”
“I never talk about any of my client’s cases.”
After a second, she nodded. “Good. Okay. I have to trust you not to talk about mine.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. She might be young, but he was beginning to see how effectively she might operate in a board room, and he wished he didn’t admire her for it. “I haven’t agreed to take your case.”
Tyler met his eyes steadily. “Will you?”
“You’re as stubborn as your grandmother.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He grinned grudgingly. “She would have, too.”
Once again, he saw pain in her eyes, and his curiosity increased. “You mentioned a letter of introduction?”
Unsnapping her purse, she extracted it and handed it to him. Nick regretted asking for it the moment he read it: “‘Nicholas, if you read this, then it means that I am no longer here and my granddaughter needs your help. Your promise to your uncle ended with my death, but listen to what she has to say and don’t judge her by my mistakes. Belle.”’
“Damn!” He glanced up in time to see the corners of her mouth twitch. “Something funny?”
“No. My grandmother’s missives are seldom funny. ‘Damn’ usually sums them up quite well.”
He studied her for a moment, knowing that his decision had already been made. “I’ll take the case on one condition—if I can’t wind everything up by Tuesday, you’ll let me refer you to my cousin. I’m flying to L.A. on Wednesday morning.”
Tyler hesitated for a moment.
“Take it or leave it,” Nick said.
“Agreed.”
He walked to his desk and sat down on the corner. “Okay, what’s the problem?”
“I’m getting married next Saturday, and my fiancé has disappeared. I want you to find him.”
For a second, Nick said nothing. She was the coolest looking jilted bride he’d ever seen. He watched her as she unsnapped her purse.
“The last time I heard from him—”
“Wait. I can save us both some time here. If your bridegroom has bolted, don’t waste your money. Just let him go.”
Her eyes snapped up to his and narrowed. “I didn’t come here for advice. And he’s my fiancé. He won’t be my bridegroom until next Saturday.”
Nick waved a hand. “Fiancé, bridegroom. We could sit around and debate word choice all day but—” he lifted the clock off his filing cabinet “—the clock is ticking.”
“That one isn’t,” she pointed out.
Nick glanced down at it and frowned. “Damn. I forgot the electricity was turned off. No wonder it didn’t go off. If it had, you’d have missed me completely.”
“Must be my lucky day,” Tyler said.
Nick glanced at her. “Good one.” No, she definitely wasn’t a defenseless puppy. And he was becoming certain she wasn’t simply the spoiled rich girl he’d thought at first. That intrigued him even more than the fabulous legs. With some effort, he kept himself from looking at them again. “Okay, back to the missing bridegroom.”
“Fiancé. Words are important. I like to use them accurately.”
“Believe me, sugar, any man who is within a week of his wedding has started to think of himself as a groom. He can picture himself in that monkey suit, the tie cutting off his oxygen supply, and that ball and chain rolling inexorably toward him, ready to snap its jaws tight around his ankle. If your husband-to-be is missing, it’s more likely than not he’s got a classic case of cold feet and taken a powder. And with the divorce rate the way it is today, you don’t need a bridegroom who’s having second thoughts.”
Tyler strode toward him until they were standing toe to toe. “And I don’t need to hire a PI who’s going to waste my time. Is that all they taught you in detective school—to jump to conclusions and argue?”
“Jeez,” Nick said, putting a hand over his heart, “you really know how to hurt a guy.”
Tyler’s chin lifted. “My grandmother said you could be trusted. She didn’t say you were any good. Are you?”
“Sugar, I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes.” Reaching quickly, he snagged her hand. When she tried to pull away, he held tight. “That was a pretty direct challenge. Bear with me for a moment. This is your engagement ring?”
“Yes.”
“He chose it, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“No, don’t say another word. Let me show you what I learned in detective school. You would have chosen something a little smaller, more conservative, I think…perhaps something with a different stone in the setting, a sapphire to match your eyes.” He glanced up, saw that he had her attention, and went on. “The size of the stone tells me that he wanted to impress you or your family. That means the money he has is new, not the kind that’s been handed down to him. He wanted to make sure you knew he could measure up. He’s a little nervous about this wedding.” Nick paused, then asked, “How am I doing so far?”
“You’re guessing.”
Nick smiled. “Detectives have to make guesses. Good ones guess right. I’m also betting that he works in a business that your board of trustees would approve of—banking, the stock market…no, accounting. I’ll bet he’s an accountant.”
Her eyes widened. “How could you possibly know that?”
“From you. Seems to me that’s the type you’d go for, someone who would know all the facts, figures, the bottom line. Someone who could make everything add up right, just the way you add up nice and neat until I get to your eyes.”
It was a mistake to look into them for too long, Nick realized. The color reminded him of the glass bowl that sat in his mother’s china cabinet, hand blown by his father years ago in Venice—except her eyes were an even deeper blue, violet almost, contrasting sharply with the porcelain fairness of her skin. He felt a sudden urge to brush his fingertips along the curve of her cheek. Could she possibly feel as cool as she looked? If he touched her right now, could he make the fire leap back into her eyes?
The phone rang, and Nick dropped Tyler’s hand, then reached automatically for the receiver. Still, there was a tiny span of time when he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from her, when his mind seemed to be completely blank. His mother was in mid-sentence before her voice finally penetrated.
“Mama,” he said, finally shifting his eyes away from Tyler’s. “No, Rosa’s fiancé is not cheating on her. I hate to say I told you so, but I—How do I know? Because I’m the world’s best…”
Tyler tore her gaze away from Nick and focused on the door to the office behind him. As soon as she felt sure she wouldn’t stumble, she took two careful steps back from his desk. Pride prevented her from taking any more. But standing close to this man had the strangest effect on her senses. He’d only been holding her hand, but for a moment she’d imagined his fingertips brushing along her cheekbone, then down her throat to where her jacket buttoned, and she’d wanted…
Giving her head a quick shake, Tyler tried to get rid of the image of Nick Romano unbuttoning her jacket, slipping the sleeves down her arms. Ruthlessly, she pushed the picture out of her mind, but she could still feel the heat licking along her nerve endings before it arrowed deeper. What in the world was wrong with her? She’d never fantasized about a man touching her before. Not even Richard.
Richard. The heat inside her tightened into a cold ball of fear and settled in her stomach. It was Richard she should be thinking of. Not this dangerous half-naked man sitting in front of her. No, she had to stop thinking of him as half naked. Mentally, she began to dress him again. This time in brown oxfords, a tweed coat with a cape, and a hat. At the last moment she added a pipe, but he still didn’t look like any Sherlock Holmes she’d ever seen.
Nick jumped up, muttering something in Italian, then threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you straight. Carlo’s moonlighting, working a second job. How do I know? You’re tough, Mama. My paying clients don’t grill me like this. I tailed him all night long from one end of the Bronx to the other. I even followed him to his door this morning.”
Laughing with his mother, Nick Romano didn’t look dangerous at all. Had Sherlock Holmes ever laughed? Tyler wondered. Richard seldom did. She frowned at the thought, wondering where it had come from. Richard didn’t have to laugh. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a husband, and she had to find him. The fear in her stomach tightened again. Could Nick Romano be right? Could Richard’s disappearance merely be due to a bad case of wedding jitters? She really wanted to believe it could be that simple. But in the hours she’d spent searching for Richard, she’d become increasingly sure that something much worse was going on.
“Mama, I gotta go. No, I’m not entertaining a lady in my office. Well—” he glanced at Tyler “—she’s definitely a lady, but she doesn’t find me entertaining. She’s a client. It’s a long story, Mamma, longer than solving the case is going to take. No. Nothing has changed. I’m still flying to L.A. on Wednesday. Uh huh. Love you, too,” he added as he replaced the receiver. Then he turned to face Tyler. “Okay, tell me, when was the last time you saw your bridegroom?”
“When I drove him to Logan Airport last Sunday. He’s been flying into Boston every weekend to take care of last-minute details for the wedding. Everything was fine until yesterday afternoon.”
“Yesterday? You mean he hasn’t even been missing a whole day yet?”
“He was supposed to fly in to Boston last night. He was taking Friday off so that we could spend some time together that wasn’t focused on wedding preparations. I met every single plane that flew into Logan from Manhattan.”
“Maybe he had to work late. Have you checked at his office?”
“I called them yesterday afternoon. They said he was taking a few days off. I know how that sounds….”
“It sounds like there’s no panic on their part,” Nick said.
“No, but that doesn’t mean—” Stopping short, she narrowed her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes or something?”
Nick grinned at her as he tapped his temple with one finger. “No need. I have a superb memory.”
“Sorry. I forgot for a moment I was dealing with Sherlock Holmes.”
Nick bit back a laugh. Beauty, brains, great legs and a sense of humor. It was just too damn bad that her last name was Sheridan. “Look, maybe he’s just playing hooky by himself. Why don’t we check his apartment.”
“I did that on my way here, right after I checked into the Plaza.”
Nick listened as she detailed her search of her bridegroom’s apartment. She’d covered all the bases, even checking to see if he’d packed a suitcase. He hadn’t, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Nick was still convinced that Tyler Sheridan’s bridegroom had gotten a case of cold feet. The problem was that his thumbs had started to prick. They always did when something was wrong.
“I know what it all sounds like,” Tyler said as she opened her purse again. “And I know what this looks like, but—”
“Hold on. Before you write that check…have you stopped to consider that he might be with his family?”
“His family?”
“You know—Mom, Dad, siblings. Maybe he’s just gone home for the weekend.”
“Richard never talks about his family. He hasn’t seen them in years.”
“Well, it’s possible he’s decided to change all that. Weddings are a good opportunity to patch things up. Why don’t you give them a call?”
Tyler frowned. “I don’t know where they live.”
Nick’s brows rose. “You didn’t invite them to the wedding?”
“He said they wouldn’t come. I never thought…Maybe that is where he’s gone.”
“It’s worth a shot.” Lifting the receiver, Nick dialed a number. “My cousin Sam is a genius with computers. He can get into any database that’s been created.” He spoke into the phone. “Sam, I need a favor…Yeah, I know I’ve retired. But I’ve got a missing persons case and I need to trace his parents.” With a grin, he said, “Yeah, the client is a she, and she’s very pretty. Here, I’ll let you talk to her.” As he handed Tyler the phone, he said, “You can trust him.”
The moment she began to talk into the phone, Nick walked over to the window and tried to ignore a twinge of guilt.
It was possible that Richard had gone home to reconcile with his family. But Nick didn’t think so. Not that it would hurt to have Sam trace the parents. By the time, they discovered that Richard wasn’t with them, Tyler might be more accepting of the truth. And she’d find it out earlier than a lot of brides did—eight whole days before the wedding.
In the meantime, he could hold her hand, get her through a rough time. What could be the harm in that?
