Otherwise Engaged

“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?

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.