Otherwise Engaged. Cara Summers

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