Otherwise Engaged. Cara Summers

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