One Season Collection

SIXTEEN

She missed him when he wasn’t around. That Tyler had become such a strong presence in her daily life concerned Miranda, but not enough to distract her focus from the increased frustration it added to the lack of privacy.

Detective Patty-Fingers was going to drive her insane if she couldn’t get him on board with the idea of some quality alone time soon.

Adding the finishing touches to her make-up, she leaned back from the mirror and forced the ever-present thread of worry from her mind. Knowing the work he did allowed her imagination to run riot with dozens of horrific scenarios, all of which resulted in him getting hurt.

That no one would think she needed to know if he was didn’t exactly help.

Reaching for an assortment of mismatched gold bangles to accompany the chunky squares dangling from her ears, she stood up, pushed her feet into a pair of waiting Jimmy Choo’s and stepped over to the full-length mirror for a final inspection. The fashion police would be out in force on the red carpet but, for the first time since they’d started tearing apart everything she wore, she didn’t care what they said. So long as the short shift of cap-sleeved emerald-green material overlaid with fine black lace got Tyler’s attention nothing else mattered.

The flutter of tiny wings tickled the inside of her stomach with anticipation as she lifted her purse from the end of the bed and crossed the room. It wasn’t a date they were going on but it felt like one.

He was effortlessly taking the stairs two at a time when she walked down the hall, his gaze lifting to tangle with hers. As always, her breath caught. Now it really did feel like a date. He wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead his long legs were encased in black jeans and he’d layered the top half of his body with a dark sports jacket worn over a V-necked sweater with a white T-shirt underneath.

They met at the top of the stairs, his gaze slowly caressing her from head to toe before he quirked his brows and rewarded her efforts with, ‘Wow.’

A smile blossomed on her lips. ‘Exactly the response I was aiming for.’ She angled her chin. ‘Are both your suits at the dry cleaner’s?’

‘I heard bodyguards were supposed to blend in at these things. And for the record, I have more than two suits.’

‘Are they all navy and black?’ She resisted the urge to reach out and brush her fingertips over the lapels of his jacket while they were under the scrutiny of the security cameras. ‘Now that I think about it, do you even have any colour in your wardrobe?’

To her delight he looked amused. ‘You gonna start dressing me now?’

Au contraire; while he looked as mouth-wateringly good as he did, she was much more interested in undressing him.

When he read the message in her eyes he shook his head and inclined it towards the stairs. ‘Let’s go, princess.’ They were halfway down before he lowered his voice to ask, ‘You’re wearing underwear under this one, right?’

‘Only one way you’re going to find out,’ she replied in an equally intimate tone. ‘And did I mention this is supposed to be kiss-proof lipstick? We might need to conduct a consumer test later.’

As they stepped onto the foyer the weight of a large hand on the inward curve of her spine drew a sharp breath through her lips. She could feel each long finger, her body aching in all the places she wanted him to touch. Then the door to the vestibule opened, her father appeared and Tyler’s hand dropped a split second before he took a noticeable step back.

She hated that he had to do that.

‘I thought you were speaking at a dinner this evening,’ Miranda said to her father with a smile.

‘Came back to get your mother,’ her father replied. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘Movie premiere in Times Square. I’m afraid Detective Brannigan will have to suffer his way through a rom-com.’

Her father leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek. ‘Have fun, sweetheart.’

‘You, too.’

He nodded at Tyler. ‘Detective.’

‘Sir.’ Tyler nodded in reply.

They continued across the foyer and into the vestibule as her father made his way upstairs. When Miranda used one of the tricks she’d learnt and slowed her pace so Tyler would touch her again the outer door opened and Lou Mitchell walked in.

‘Miranda.’ He smiled.

‘Good evening, Lou. How’s the family?’

‘Great, thanks.’ He looked at Tyler. ‘How’d you get on this afternoon?’

‘Might have something,’ Tyler replied. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

Miranda lowered her voice as they stepped outside. ‘This place is like Grand Central.’

‘Yeah, I’d noticed that. But at least we’ll get some peace and quiet in Times Square.’

The combination of dry humour and the thought he might be as frustrated by the lack of privacy as she was made her smile. ‘What were you doing this afternoon?’

‘That’s on a need-to-know basis.’ He stopped at the front of the SUV. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘I want to sit up front.’

He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Have you ever sat in the jump seat?’

‘No.’

‘Then you’re not starting now.’ Raising a hand he beckoned her with a crooked forefinger. ‘Round you come.’

Miranda stood her ground. ‘I thought we were parking at the Hyatt.’

‘We are.’

‘Then it’s not like I’m getting out where anyone can see me, is it?’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘We’ll be late if you don’t open the door.’

Tyler nodded. ‘Best come round here and get in, then, hadn’t you?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe we’re arguing about where I sit.’

‘And I can’t believe you’re kicking up such a stink about it when you’ve never sat anywhere else.’

Miranda aimed a mock glare his way. ‘Maybe it might be nice not to feel like I’m being chauffeured everywhere.’

‘You are being chauffeured everywhere.’

‘You could indulge me just this once,’ she cajoled.

‘Not paid to do that.’

She batted her lashes and pouted, ‘Pretty please?’

Tyler sighed heavily before the finger he’d used to beckon her pointed in warning as he moved. ‘No touching anything while I’m driving.’

Why did he think she wanted to sit in the front?

‘I mean it.’

He was still a party pooper but, the way Miranda looked at it, the night was young.

When the locks clicked she opened the door and climbed inside, carefully arranging her dress so it wouldn’t crease and then sliding the skirt a little higher so it revealed a couple more inches of leg. As they reached for their seat belts she glanced surreptitiously at Tyler to see if he’d noticed. Judging by the frown on his face as he turned the ignition key, he had.

She wondered if teasing him would ever get old. He had to know it was foreplay. There was nothing about him that suggested he didn’t have skills in that area. When she thought about what he could teach her, she squirmed a little on the seat.

‘Quit that,’ he said in a rougher voice as the gate raised and they left the compound.

‘I’m settling in.’ She looked out of the windscreen and stifled a smile. ‘It feels different sitting up here.’

‘That’s not what you’re doing.’ He checked for traffic before turning onto the street.

‘Are you an expert on how a woman’s mind works?’

He aimed another heated gaze her way. ‘I know getting inside a woman’s head can have spectacular results in the bedroom, if that’s what you’re asking.’ When he focused on driving again, he frowned. ‘Most cops learn to read body language. It comes in handy.’

Nice attempt at trying to change the subject.

Miranda turned towards him, much more interested in what was happening inside the SUV than she was in anything outside. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Read body language?’

‘Get inside a woman’s head.’

‘You pay attention.’

‘So what have you discovered about me?’

‘You’re not who I thought you were,’ he replied with a hint of uncharacteristic reluctance. ‘Not entirely.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure I’m going to like everything about the answer to this question, but here goes. What do you mean by “not entirely”?’

‘You’re high-maintenance.’

Miranda disagreed. ‘Unless someone is supplying the necessary personal grooming must-haves of a mani-pedi or a fabulous haircut I manage my beauty regime the same way any other woman does.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’ He checked the mirrors before changing lanes. ‘You’re hard work.’

She could see how that would be true from his point of view. ‘Do I need to remind you that you weren’t exactly Mr Friendly at the start? I might have been nicer to you if you’d been nicer to me.’

‘You telling me you don’t like getting your own way?’

‘Most people do,’ Miranda countered. ‘Especially if it can mean the difference between surviving in an environment you find suffocating or drowning under the weight of a responsibility you never asked for in the first place.’

When she realized how much she’d revealed she fixed her gaze on the traffic in front of them. She couldn’t expect him to understand how she felt. No one could until they’d walked a mile in her shoes.

‘I already figured that part out,’ his voice rumbled.

‘It’s not as easy a life as some people might think it is,’ she confessed.

‘I couldn’t do it.’

‘You wouldn’t have let it continue for so long.’

‘I’m surprised you have.’

‘As crazy as they can make me, I love my family.’ She shrugged a shoulder. ‘They’re the only one I’ve got.’

With the reminder she lifted her chin and sat taller. Young ladies didn’t slouch; they had poise and composure, even when having a discussion that made them feel exposed and vulnerable to criticism.

‘You don’t have to do that when we’re alone. Save it for the crowd.’

Miranda’s startled gaze leapt to his profile.

As he straightened the wheel he glanced at her. ‘You thought I didn’t know?’

It was difficult to think anything when the sensation he really had stepped inside her head was so...unsettling...

‘Everyone has a front,’ he continued while she tried to find her voice. ‘Work the streets for long enough you learn there’s usually a reason for it.’

Having raised the topic, he had to know she would turn it around. ‘What do you hide?’

The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘If I answered that question it wouldn’t be hidden any more, would it?’

‘You’ve spent more than your fair share of time in an interrogation room, haven’t you?’

‘They’re called interview rooms these days.’

When she wondered how much his job affected the rest of his life Miranda decided the easiest way to find out was to open the topic. ‘It can’t be easy not to bring your work home with you.’

‘It’s not.’

‘So how do you strike a balance?’

A muscle in his jaw clenched. ‘You accept the fact you made a vow and live up to it as best you can for as long as you can.’

She understood that better than he probably thought she did. What she didn’t understand was how he dedicated so much of his life to his work without needing something for himself. Didn’t he have things he enjoyed doing in his downtime—people he wanted to spend time with, places he wanted to see? She couldn’t have survived if she didn’t have those things, even if some of them were still part of her dreams for the future.

‘You remind me a little of my father,’ she reluctantly admitted. ‘He has the same level of dedication to his job.’

‘Public service takes a particular kind of person.’

‘Self-sacrificing?’ she enquired.

‘Mule-headed,’ he replied.

‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded. ‘He can be that, too.’

‘You ever have the kind of talk with him that you had with your mother?’

Miranda angled her chin. ‘Exactly how long were you standing outside that door?’

‘Long enough to get the general gist. You’d think the doors in a place that old would be thicker.’

‘In fairness to the door my mother does have a knack for getting me to raise my voice.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘In the olden days she’d have been described as unflappable.’

‘Useful trait for a politician’s wife.’

‘True, but there’s nothing worse than someone who won’t argue with you when you’re itching for a fight.’

‘Might help if you were more open with her...’

‘Now you’re starting to sound like my father,’ she complained. ‘This is so not the conversation I planned on having with you the next time we were alone.’

‘And now you’re annoyed because you’re not getting your own way,’ he stated without missing a beat. ‘Like I said—hard work.’

Miranda scowled at his profile. ‘Did no one ever tell you it’s okay to have the thought but it’s not always okay to say it out loud?’

‘Not much call for tact in my line of work.’

She shook her head and looked out of the windscreen as he steered them through the narrower side streets that fed into the main artery leading to the heart of Times Square. Speaking her mind wasn’t something she’d been encouraged to do, especially when every word she said or Tweeted could be held against her. She’d always struggled with that. But with Tyler she didn’t have to fight against her nature. It made sense of several things once she thought about it.

‘Do you think if you were given more freedom you’d feel the need to go looking for trouble?’

The question made her sigh. ‘I don’t go looking for trouble. It has a tendency to find me.’

‘Like a drugs raid in a nightclub,’ he said dryly.

‘How was I supposed to know the place had a drugs problem when I’d never been there before?’

‘If you’d had an advance check it out they’d have told you.’ When they stopped for a crossing light he looked her in the eye. ‘There’s an army of people at your disposal twenty-four-seven—never occurred to you to take advantage of their skill set?’

‘I’m not going to bother someone every time I get the impulse to go out for ice cream.’

‘It’s your security detail’s job to protect you,’ he pointed out as bluntly as she’d learned to expect. ‘You go skipping out any time you feel like it or get caught in the middle of a raid it makes both them and the department look bad. Wouldn’t look a whole heap better for your father if he let something happen to you, would it?’

She wasn’t trying to make anyone look bad. How could he not know that by now?

When the light changed and the last of the pedestrians on the crossing parted to make space for them to move forwards he surmised, ‘You didn’t think of it that way.’

‘I suppose that makes me selfish?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’s selfish to want time to yourself—I get that’s what you were doing now. What I don’t get is the reason you’ve stuck it out for so long if you don’t enjoy it.’

Not true. ‘There are parts of it I enjoy—meeting people, going places, supporting worthwhile causes.’

‘So why not find a job that involves those things without the same restrictions?’

‘I intend to. But I made a promise to my brother.’

She blinked. Had she just said that out loud?

‘What kind of promise?’

That would be a yes, then. Briefly hiding behind the hand pretending to brush her hair into place, she checked to see how she felt about telling him. On a gut level it didn’t feel wrong but there was a limit to how much she could say without delving into her family history. ‘After abandoning him five days a week while I was at NYU I said I’d make sure he didn’t have to smile for the cameras until the next election—he’s due home the week before to help with the run-in. Win or lose, the plan was we’d make a stand together when he finished college.’

‘What changed?’

‘I did,’ she answered truthfully before lowering her chin. ‘I’ve never told anyone that. About the promise to my brother, I mean.’

‘What about Crystal?’

‘She wouldn’t get it.’

‘So why tell me?’

‘Because I think you do.’ Miranda lifted her chin and looked into his eyes as the traffic slowed. ‘Like I said not so long ago—no one speaks to me the way you do. Maybe I needed someone to be frank with me so I could learn how to do the same in return.’

‘If brutal honesty is what you need you’re never gonna have to worry you won’t get it from me.’

As much as it ruffled her feathers—particularly when he said something she didn’t want to hear—she liked that about him. It was refreshing. ‘You’re never gonna let me win an argument for the sake of keeping the peace either, are you?’

‘Nope,’ he answered succinctly as he focused on the road ahead. ‘And don’t ever take me on in a sport unless you plan on losing.’

It was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘Is there anything you’re not good at?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ he drawled.

When he turned his head the smile he flashed was so completely unexpected it stunned Miranda into silence. Enraptured by the sight she stared at the immediate change it brought to his face. His eyes were suddenly dozens of different shades of blue, the lines at the corners of his dense lashes deepening to give the impression there’d been a time in his life when he’d laughed often and loud. Added to the flash of pearly whites beneath the adorably crooked line of his lips, he wasn’t just handsome.

He was irresistible.

Miranda felt her body and heart sway towards him with the same impulse as a flower turning its petals to the sun. She was smiling back at him before she realized she was doing it, her chest expanding with warmth.

But like all good things the moment didn’t last.

When the SUV moved forwards again she decided it was probably just as well. She couldn’t get more attached to him than she already was. So long as everything they did was treated as nothing more than foreplay she’d be fine.

Until she’d lived a little, explored some and quelled the doubts she had about her capability to do something worthwhile with her life, she couldn’t so much as think about making a commitment to someone else.

Tyler Brannigan was a commitment kind of guy; twelve years on the job would have told her that even if he hadn’t made the comment about wearing a wedding ring. From that point of view she was glad there wasn’t any chance he would get more attached to her.

She just wished she knew why it made her feel so sad.

SEVENTEEN

A life that involved posing on a red carpet wasn’t one Tyler could ever see himself living. Considering the number of flashing cameras, it was a miracle she hadn’t gone blind.

Posting up a few feet away from the spotlight, he watched her at work with a newfound respect. She seemed to know exactly where each lens was pointed; how to stand to display her stunning figure to its best advantage—though in fairness some folks were probably looking at her clothes—and throughout the test of endurance her smile never faded.

She was a pro. If she ended up supporting worthwhile causes when she had her freedom, they would be lucky to have her. The thought of her putting as much passion into her work as she did when she kissed him...

Well, suffice to say the world had better watch out.

When they stepped inside the movie theatre to make way for the Hollywood stars she was equally adept at working the room. Some of the people she talked to he recognized, some he didn’t, but she knew each and every one by name and managed to slip in several mayoral sound bites inside ten minutes. Since it was more than apparent he wasn’t the only bodyguard present—some of them standing out like pro-wrestlers in a ballet class—he allowed her a little more space and stepped over to the counter nearby.

Her eyes sparkled when he returned. ‘What is that?’

‘Can’t watch a movie without popcorn,’ he reasoned.

‘And a bucket of soda, apparently.’ She smiled as they lined up to take their seats. ‘You bought diet, right?’

‘Not in this lifetime.’

Reaching out, she snagged a kernel of popcorn and popped it in her mouth.

‘Did I say I’d bought it to share?’

She smiled brightly as she chewed.

It set the tone for the following hour and a handful of minutes. In the darkness of the auditorium, with numerous brushes of their fingertips in the search for popcorn, some of the tension seemed to ease from his body. He might have left the theatre feeling pretty relaxed if it hadn’t been for the sex scene in the movie.

As the tension rose onscreen it seemed to coil around them. His senses became sharper and clearer. The seductive scent of her perfume, the contact of their elbows on the armrest between them, the saltiness on his lips he knew he would taste on hers when they kissed.

When his little finger brushed rhythmically into one of the groves between finer-boned fingers he glanced sideways and saw her press her knees together. His gaze lifted to the dark pools of her eyes; the thought her body was preparing for him immediately making his do the same in return. For a moment it felt as if they were the only people there. Then something was said onscreen that made the audience laugh, snapping him out of it and allowing him time to gather what was left of his senses before the credits rolled. But reminding himself of all the reasons he couldn’t have her wasn’t working. If anything it made the need for mutual release seem as vital as his next breath.

She tugged his sleeve to get his attention when they reached the foyer. ‘Last time I was here, Mac thought it was quicker to use the side exit than wade through the mob out front.’

Tyler didn’t argue, but when the door opened there were almost as many people in the side street as there had been out front. The barricades were human—a line of uniformed police officers, some of them with outstretched arms, some as interested in who came out of the door as the crowd.

When Miranda appeared people started calling her name.

‘I don’t like this,’ Tyler said tightly.

‘It’s fine,’ she reassured him before pinning a smile in place and stepping forwards. ‘Hi, how are you? Yes, it was great, you should go see it.’

While she worked her way down the line every instinct Tyler possessed screamed at him to get her out of there. He glared at one of the uniforms, tempted to get his badge number and report him for not doing his damn job.

As the door opened and a well-known talk-show host stepped outside the crowd yelled louder and moved forwards in a rolling wave that could barely be contained. His gaze immediately darted to Miranda. She’d got a couple of steps ahead and had her back to him. As he moved closer he saw her elbow move in a way that suggested whoever was holding on to her hand wasn’t keen to let go. The minute he saw who it was Tyler grabbed the man’s arm.