Her Man in Manhattan. Trish Wylie

silent question opened the floodgate for a string of others. She wanted to know how long he’d been a cop, where he’d been before he transferred to the Municipal Security Section, what age he was, if he had a family.

      As she crossed the gravel to the lawn another thought occurred to her. Since the absence of a wedding ring meant nothing she didn’t even know if he was single. Asking him would be the obvious solution if he was remotely in the region of forthcoming—the fact she still didn’t know his name being a prime example. If she found out he was married she would have several names for him; none of them nice.

      Ramming the baseball cap onto her head, she frowned beneath the cover of the peak. Considering how much of her mind was occupied by thoughts of him even when he was right there, she didn’t have a choice. She had to get to know him better. Ordinarily it was something she enjoyed: talking to people, listening to what they had to say and getting small glimpses of lives that were so much freer than hers.

      With him it felt different, more necessary to her survival, most likely because the silence was starting to turn her into a crazy person.

      She just needed to figure out a way of getting him to start a conversation when she’d told him not to.

      Had to pick now to follow an order, didn’t he?

      FIVE

      At first Miranda’s pace was rushed, the irritation she felt at his presence obvious, particularly when he walked beside her instead of taking up the more usual position on point or a few steps behind. When she slowed and started to take everything in Tyler studied her reaction as she breathed deep and a small smile formed on her lips.

      Either she’d never walked the grounds before or she was up to something. He assumed it was the latter.

      Without warning she changed direction and headed for the river, stopping to look from side to side when she got to the railing. After a couple of minutes of the same thing he inevitably asked, ‘What are you looking for?’

      ‘Mmm?’ she hummed absent-mindedly.

      ‘You’re obviously looking for something.’ If it was a place to jump in the river and swim to freedom she could forget it.

      ‘Baby seals.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Baby seals,’ she repeated. ‘Fuzzy bundles of joy that mummy and daddy seal made together as a token of their love for one another.’ When she shot a sparkle-eyed glance at him from beneath the peak of her baseball cap he got the impression she thought she’d won some kind of victory. ‘Didn’t they teach you about reproduction in high school?’

      Like most teenage boys it hadn’t been the reproduction of seals he’d been interested in but Tyler didn’t say so out loud. Instead he checked the grounds and the river, the water still busy with tugboats and barges. There was no immediate danger but he couldn’t relax. Every muscle in his body was wound tight, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Without a means of release the tension grew, making him hyper-aware of the smallest details.

      The name of the tugboat closest to them—the man standing on the prow of a barge—the water lapping against algae-covered rocks—the way a breeze from the river brushed a loose tendril of flame-red hair against the sensitive skin on her neck. He frowned as it swayed back and forth in a whispered touch that made his fingertips itch.

      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