скачать книгу бесплатно
A lot, warned the nagging little voice in his mind. Turning back to her, Nick recalled the feeling he’d had earlier when he’d looked into her eyes, the almost overpowering need he’d felt to touch her. And he knew that he’d feel it again. Tyler Sheridan was…different.
She came from a different world, he reminded himself. Like her grandmother before her. The safest course would be to escort her back to her hotel and keep in touch by phone. Then Tyler turned back to him and looked into his eyes. He felt the punch right down to his toes. Hell, when had he ever taken the safe course?
“It’ll take Sam at least an hour or so,” he said. “Why don’t I pull on some clothes and I’ll take you to lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” Tyler said. “And there’s something that I haven’t shown you yet.” She unsnapped her purse. “This was delivered to my office late yesterday afternoon via special messenger.”
Nick glanced down at the glossy magazine she’d handed him. It was folded open to a page of personal ads. He read aloud the one that was circled: “‘TMS, Sorry I’ll miss the wedding. I’ll be in touch. Remember Scarlet and Annie. RJL.”’
“The magazine came out yesterday,” Tyler said.
“You think you’re TMS and Richard is RJL?”
“Yes. I know it’s from Richard. He’s sent me messages before using these Personals. I…it’s sort of a private joke. We never would have met if I hadn’t placed a personal ad in this magazine.”
“Wait. Time out. Are you saying that you got engaged to someone by running an ad in the—” he glanced down at the magazine again “—the Personal Touch column?”
“No. Not exactly. It’s a long story, and it hardly matters now. I know what the ad looks like. It looks like proof that he’s gotten cold feet.” She moved forward then to touch him, a hand on his arm. “I know it’s more than that. Something is wrong. I just feel it.”
Nick felt it, too. His thumbs were pricking like crazy. And then there was the fact that his skin had begun to heat beneath her hand. More worrisome was the ache, a very dull ache that was building right in his center. Stepping away, he grabbed a T-shirt and put it on, then pulled jeans on over his shorts. “C’mon,” he said, urging her toward the door as he slipped on his shoes.
“Where are we—”
“We’re going to see if we can find out who placed this ad and when. Then we’ll have lunch.”
2
TYLER WATCHED as the polar bear dove toward her, turned, planted its feet firmly against the pane of glass separating it from the crowd of onlookers and pushed itself back to the surface. Then it turned and dove toward her again. In the short time she’d been watching, it hadn’t tired of executing over and over the same set of incredibly graceful movements: plunging down to the glass, turning, pushing off, and shooting to the surface. She found the performance every bit as fascinating as did the children pressed against the guardrail.
When the bear finally took a break and joined its companion on the bank, Tyler glanced over her shoulder and checked on Nick’s progress at the vending cart. In the taxi on the way over, he’d informed her that they’d grab something to eat in the park. It would eliminate a wait for a table, and he wouldn’t have to worry about dress codes. Then, since he’d already canceled his service, he’d commandeered her cell phone so he could make it a working lunch. He was talking on it even now, as he pulled bills out of a worn-looking wallet.
The man had contacts everywhere, it seemed—from a good buddy who just happened to head up security at the Plaza Hotel where she was staying, to an ex-girlfriend who had a contact at Attitudes Magazine where the personal ad had run.
She continued to study him as he shoved the phone in his pocket and began to chat with the woman running the vending cart. Richard would never take the time to do that. Nor would he ever have considered lunching on hot dogs in Central Park.
The two men were so different. Richard was meticulously groomed and very selective about his wardrobe, while Nick’s approach to both seemed haphazard, reckless even. Her gaze dropped to the jeans he’d pulled on, which were fraying at several strategic spots. Recklessness was something she’d avoided all of her life. That thought was still on her mind when she glanced up and met his eyes. For one full moment, she felt the same way she had in his office. The children’s laughter, the pungent smell of the animals, the sounds of the traffic—everything around her seemed to fade. All she could think of was him.
No, she thought as the quick skip of panic moved through her. She could not possibly be attracted to this man. He wasn’t her type. Richard was. And Richard would be good for her, she told herself again. His gaze slipped away from her then, as he pulled out her cell phone. A second later, he was gesturing dramatically with his hands.
Tyler drew in a deep breath and let it out. But she didn’t feel the relief she wanted. What was it about Nick Romano that he could pull a response from her she couldn’t control? If she was going to work with him, she would have to figure it out.
At the back of her mind the old questions hammered. Had her grandmother been right? Was Tyler her mother’s daughter, after all? Isabelle had always told her she had to fight against the passionate side of her nature that she’d inherited from her mother. And passion had definitely ruled Claudia. Otherwise, why would she have married again barely a year after Tyler’s father had died? And why would she have left Tyler with Isabelle, then flitted from one husband to the next?
Drawing in a deep breath, Tyler pushed the questions away. She wasn’t going to let the old self-doubts creep in. And she would figure out a way to handle Nick Romano…and find Richard.
Turning back to the polar bear, she made herself focus on the dive—down to the glass, then back to the surface; down to the glass, back to the surface. Gradually, the rhythm of the movements soothed her. She imagined herself diving with him, feeling the coolness of the water slipping over her skin, then hit the solid barrier of glass. Was he hoping to escape? Did he believe that perhaps this time it would give and he would be free?
“Well, what do you think of the Central Park Zoo’s main attraction?” Nick asked as he joined her.
“I think they should take him back to the North Pole and set him free,” she said without hesitation.
Nick studied her for a moment. “You surprise me, sugar. If it makes you feel any better, he probably wouldn’t survive if they did.”
He was carrying a loaded paper tray, and she grabbed for the napkins as they began to blow away. “Nobody should be trapped like that.”
“A few years ago, he might have agreed with you. All he used to do was repeat that dive, over and over and over. The zoo people finally called in a psychiatrist.”
Tyler looked at him. “You’re joking.”
“Absolutely not.” He nudged her toward a bench. “The big fella was diagnosed with one of those obsessive compulsive disorders. I swear,” he assured her when she shot him a skeptical look. “If I’m lying, may I never take a bite of my mama’s cooking again.”
“Can your mother cook?” asked Tyler as she sat down.
“Ouch. It’s a good thing I have a thick skin. I would never lie about my mother’s cooking.”
“All right. I’ll bite. What did the psychiatrist say?”
“Claimed our polar bear needed companionship,” Nick said as he joined her on the bench. “So they got him a girlfriend, and the big fella no longer devotes all of his time to diving.”
Tyler looked back at the exhibit. “It’s still a trap. The only difference is that two of them are in it now.”
Nick shook his head sadly. “A bride eight days away from her wedding, and she doesn’t believe in romance.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” Tyler insisted. “I just don’t believe in getting carried away by it.”
“Where’s the fun if you don’t get carried away a little?” Nick asked, then held out the tray. “Dig in. Yours is the naked one. Beats me how you can bear to eat a hot dog that way.”
“It’s an old habit.”
“Time to break it. The best thing about a hot dog is the toppings.” As he bit into his, chili splatted onto his jeans.
A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it. “Sorry,” she said, as he used a napkin to dab at his knee. “That’s why I eat them plain. Otherwise…” She glanced up and found her face close to his, their eyes and lips perfectly aligned. The rest of her thought slipped away as something moved through her to her very core, then tugged. It was what she’d felt before, when he’d been holding her hand in his office, and it took all of her control not to jerk herself back out of range. Slowly, carefully, she straightened.
“Otherwise…?” Nick prompted.
“Disaster,” she murmured as her fingers began to tingle.
“Disaster is a pretty strong word for a little spilled chili.”
Tyler forced her mind back to what they’d been talking about. “I’d never spill just a little. I’d be a mess.”
“It’s hard to imagine you any way but perfectly neat and tidy,” Nick said.
She smiled. “You should have seen me when I was younger. My grandmother would take me to a Red Sox game every summer when I would come to visit. By the seventh inning, I’d have more mustard and ketchup on me than there was on the hot dog. Then she’d lecture me on how Sheridans never spilled their food and never, ever appeared in public without being perfectly groomed. It was either give up the toppings or the Red Sox.”
“I’d have given up the Red Sox.”
Surprised, she looked at him.
“Now,” he continued, “if it was a choice between a chili dog and the Yankees, that would be a different story. Here—” He offered her his chili dog. “You’re a big girl now. Live dangerously.”
She found it was impossible to resist the challenge in his eyes. Leaning forward, she took a bite and savored the explosion of flavors on her tongue. “Mmm. Wonderful.”
“There you go,” Nick said. “You’ve sampled the forbidden and you’re none the worse for it. I’d say you’re pretty mess proof. In fact, you remind me of one of Hitchcock’s heroines. Even when they were whipping around in convertibles, their hair never got windblown.”
Tyler gave him a level look. “That’s because those scenes were shot in a studio. The cars never moved.”
“Safer, I suppose, but not nearly as satisfying.” Reaching over, he fingered the gold loop on her ear. “Wouldn’t you rather take a real ride in a very fast car?”
“No.” Not until now. Tyler frowned as the thought moved through her mind. It was as traitorous as the feeling that had moved through her when he’d touched her earring. And it wasn’t even true. She had her life just the way she wanted it. She didn’t want rides in fast cars. And she didn’t want the feelings that Nick Romano could trigger in her. “That’s not who I am. That’s not how I’ve achieved what I have. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am at Sheridan Trust. It means everything to me.”
Nick studied her for a minute. “It’s got to be hard filling your grandmother’s shoes. Even if she thought you could do it, I imagine there are some who doubt her judgment.”
At the understanding she saw in his eyes, panic moved through her. “Maybe you are a good detective,” Tyler said.
Nick sighed and shook his head. “I can see it’s going to be an uphill battle trying to impress you.”
“Believe it,” she said as she bit into her hot dog. For a few minutes they ate in silence. Tyler tried to ignore that hers tasted bland. Over the years, she’d schooled herself not to notice that. Swallowing, she wrapped what remained in a napkin and took a sip of her bottled water. “Did you find out if Richard placed the want ad?”
“It’s hard to say,” Nick said around a mouthful of chili dog. “According to the records, Richard placed the earlier ads over the phone with a credit card. The man who placed the one in this issue came to the magazine’s offices in person and paid cash. The girl who took the ad couldn’t recall much about his appearance. Medium height, medium build, brown hair.”
“That could be Richard.”
“And about one-third of all the other men who live in Manhattan, not to mention the tourists. The thing she was most sure about was that she took the ad on Monday. That was the deadline for placing anything in this month’s issue. The arrangements with the messenger service were made yesterday. That’s when the magazine gets mailed to subscribers.”
Tyler frowned. “But if he placed the ad Monday, then he knew four days ago that he was going to disappear.”
“Yeah. If Richard was the one who placed it.” Balling up the remnants of their lunch, Nick took aim and tossed it into the trash container.
“I know that Richard placed that ad. He’s the only one who could have composed it,” Tyler said. “No one else would know about Scarlet and Annie.”
“I was going to ask you about that. Who are they?”
“Scarlet O’Hara and Little Orphan Annie. Gone with the Wind is his favorite movie and Annie is his favorite musical. It was something we had in common.”
“He really liked Gone with the Wind?”
“Yes. Didn’t you?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it all the way through. It certainly wouldn’t make my top-ten list.” He turned to her then to study her. “So, Scarlet and Annie are your favorites?” Reaching over, he again fingered the loop of gold at her ear.
Tyler drew in a deep breath and let it out, trying to ignore her racing heart. “I want you to stop that.”
Nick dropped his hand. “It bothers you?”
“No, of course not. It’s just…that is…I don’t like people to violate my personal space.”
“Really?”
She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how he could have such a sober expression on his face, such a serious tone to his voice, and at the same time be laughing at her with his eyes. But she was not going to give in to the urge to punch him. “Really. Are we clear on that?”
“Absolutely. Hands off.” He raised both of his. “And I do approve.”
“Of what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Your personal favorites. Scarlet and Annie. You’re a little like both of them. They’re determined and they are both full of surprises.”
Tyler gave him another level look. “So are Hitchcock heroines, in spite of their perfect hairdos. While the men in those movies, as I recall, are always a bit befuddled.”
Nick threw back his head and laughed. The sound was so rich and free that several heads turned their way, and Tyler found herself wanting to join him.
“Good one,” he finally said. “Do you deliver zingers like that in your board meetings?”
“No,” she said.
“Well, you should. They’d start to think twice before they crossed you. C’mon,” he said, rising from the bench. “Let’s take a walk. I think better when I’m on the move.” He led the way, cutting a path between two women pushing strollers. To their left, a group of children stared wide-eyed at penguins, and the penguins stared right back. Farther ahead, seals clapped and preened themselves in an enclosed fountain while water shot high into the air.
“So, how about telling me the long story about why your bridegroom used the personal ads to send you little messages.”
When Tyler didn’t immediately reply, he continued, “Look, if you want my help, I need to know everything. It won’t go any farther. I never rat out my clients. Besides, I’m dying to know why someone like you would have to place an ad in the Personals?”
“I did it because my college roommate dared me.”
Nick stared at her. “Would you jump off a cliff on a dare?”
“No, but you don’t know Stevie. She was always after me to date. So was my mother. I figured the responses to an ad in the Personals couldn’t be any worse than the men my mother was always inviting to dinner.”
“So under pressure from your college roommate and your mother, you took out an ad in the Personals.” He studied her for a moment. “I can understand maternal pressure. So far mine has stopped short of encouraging me to advertise.”
When they reached the guardrail surrounding the seals, Nick paused and leaned against it. One of the seals was cleverly balancing a ball on its nose. Nearby, a toddler laughed delightedly.
“He should take that act on the road,” Nick said, slanting her a grin.
“Speaking of being on the road—shouldn’t we be going somewhere or doing something besides wandering through the zoo?” Tyler asked.
“We are,” Nick said. “We’re waiting for reports. Ten percent of PI work is setting things in motion. Eighty percent is waiting for the results.”
“And the other ten?”
Nick grinned. “Catching the bad guys.”
“I’d prefer to do something besides wait. Shouldn’t you make a plan?”
“I can’t until I have more information. And then there might not be time for one. A good PI has to live in the now.”
Tyler’s brows rose. “Is that what we’re doing right now?”
“Yep.” He tapped his temple. “Plus, we’re theorizing. Any thoughts on why your bridegroom used a want ad for sending a Dear John letter?”
