One Season And Dynasties Collection

THREE

‘I assume Detective isn’t your first name.’

Tyler glanced in the rear-view mirror. She’d given him the silent treatment since they left the mayor’s residence and he’d have been happy for it to stay that way. He wasn’t there to make small talk. He was there to keep her safe and out of trouble; something the guys on her previous detail could have done with remembering more often.

‘I’ll ask Lou,’ her honeyed voice said in a dismissive tone when he didn’t reply. ‘He’s a sweetheart.’

Somehow Tyler doubted she’d think so if she knew the mayor’s head of security was a big part of the reason he was there. It had been Lou Mitchell’s bright idea to draft in someone who hadn’t been doing the job for so long they took things for granted or was easily distracted by a pretty face. That Tyler wasn’t prepared to be subtle didn’t seem to be a problem, which was just as well considering where he’d been drafted from.

The next time he glanced in the mirror she’d placed her sunglasses on top of her head and was idly twirling a lock of hair as she read the screen of her BlackBerry. She might have been hot while wearing a disguise but without one she was a stone-cold knockout. Her skin-coloured dress left little to the imagination even with a demure neckline and its hem a respectable couple of inches above her knees. Fitted the way it was—to lovingly follow every curve of her damn-near-perfect body—it had drawn his gaze to her more often than he should have allowed.

The hair she was toying with was a particular source of fascination: lustrous, tumbling tresses of flame blended with sunlight. He could have said his interest in it stemmed from curiosity—how had she got that much hair under a short wig?—but he’d have been lying. The truth was he didn’t know why he found it so fascinating. He just did.

But the packaging didn’t make up for her personality.

A few hours of watching her in action was all it took to confirm what he’d already suspected. What surprised him was how easily she fooled everyone else. When they got to the second hit of the day and she stepped into a community project for the elderly she pulled out all the stops. A flash of her hundred-watt smile, a few carefully chosen sound bites, the brush of elegant hands over selected arms and she was treated like a combination of visiting European royalty and prodigal granddaughter. By the time she left he suspected there wasn’t anyone she came into contact with who didn’t believe she genuinely cared what they had to say.

The folks out in Hollywood earned a gold statue for that kind of performance.

His next glance in the mirror revealed she’d shifted her attention from her hair to the pearls around her neck. The fine-boned forefinger tracing them stilled and then she blinked darkened lashes, her hazel-eyed gaze crashing into his before he returned his attention to the road.

‘What was your last assignment?’ she enquired after another moment of silence.

‘You want a copy of my CV so you can get your friend Lou to pull my jacket?’

‘Your jacket?’

‘My file.’ He made a turn and merged the Escalade into three lanes of busy traffic when he heard a sound. ‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s unusually stuffy in here.’

‘That’s why they invented air-con.’ Reaching forwards to hit the switch, he frowned when he glanced in the mirror and discovered she was leaning her face towards the open window. ‘And that glass is tinted for a reason.’

‘As disappointing as I’m sure it is for you,’ she replied haughtily, ‘I’m not high on anyone’s hit list.’

‘You’ve never read any of the letters that land at your father’s office, have you?’ Tyler hit another switch to slide the window shut and waited for the answer he already knew.

‘We have people who do that.’

‘Course you do,’ he said dryly while he steered into the middle lane of traffic on Fifth Avenue.

When he drew to a smooth halt at a crossing there was a gasp from the rear seat. ‘What a gorgeous dress!’

Though he’d been ready for her to try something the sound of a door being opened caught him off guard. He turned around in his seat. ‘Don’t get out of—’

Too late. She smiled brightly as she grabbed her bag. ‘I’ll meet you back here in an hour.’ Next thing he knew the door slammed and she was skipping her light-footed way to the sidewalk.

Tyler’s seat belt was unbuckled when the light changed, the honking of horns forcing him to ram the Escalade back into gear. With one eye on the traffic and another on where she was headed, he cut across a lane and swung around the corner. It might have taken five minutes of screeching tyres to get there but by the time she exited the rear of the store he was casually leaning against the side of the vehicle with his arms crossed.

The victorious smile on her face faded the instant she saw him. ‘How did you—?’

‘Clue’s in the word detective.’ He pushed upright and opened the rear door. As she reached him he swung it shut in her face. ‘Which part of our talk this morning wasn’t clear to you?’

She angled her chin and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Which part of your job description suggested you were the boss in this relationship?’

‘Who exactly is it you think I work for?’

‘You’re my bodyguard.’

‘The city pays my wage.’

‘Is there a bonus for being a pain in the ass?’ She smiled sweetly.

‘Where were you going?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Yeah, it is.’ He reached into his pocket for a folded piece of paper and held it up in front of her face. ’Cos if it’s not on here, you don’t get to go there....’

‘It’s a free country. I can go where I want.’

Tyler wondered how much effort it had taken not to stamp her foot. ‘Let’s check the schedule, shall we?’

She crossed her arms as he shrugged back the sleeve of his jacket to consult his watch. ‘Eleven fifty-seven.’ He glanced over the sheet of paper and shook his head. ‘Nope, can’t see anything on here about playing hide-and-seek. Maybe yours is different from mine.’ His gaze locked with hers again. ‘Since we’ve established other people do the reading for you, maybe I should check that one, too.’

‘You carry a gun, right?’ she asked with a completely deadpan expression.

Two as it happened but she didn’t need to know that. ‘You gonna make me use it?’

‘I was going to ask if I can borrow it.’

Drawing in a long breath, Tyler refolded the paper and put it back in his pocket. ‘If I were you I wouldn’t waste time thinking up ways to cut me loose. This is strike one. Three strikes and you won’t get to visit a restroom alone.’

‘Your last assignment was at Guantanamo, wasn’t it?’

The old Tyler might have laughed at the comment. The one standing in front of her simply leaned closer and informed her, ‘I’m in your life now. Get used to it.’

The flecks of gold that flared in her eyes hinted at a temper to match her hair. For a split second he wanted her to get mad enough to swing for him—to spit fire and passion and remind him of the woman he’d kissed.

As if sensing a weakness ripe for exploitation she switched tactics. The curve of her full lips became sinful, drawing his gaze to her mouth and calling him to taste her again. She slowly ran the tip of her tongue over the surface, leaving a hypnotically glossy sheen in its wake.

In an instant he remembered how she’d felt when her body was melded to his, how soft her skin had been beneath his fingertips and how badly he’d burned for her. Just as suddenly he was aware of how close they were standing. One more step and their bodies would be touching again.

It took almost as much effort not to frown at his reaction as it did to snap his gaze back up to her eyes. ‘That won’t work either, so you can forget it.’

‘I have no idea what you mean.’

Sure she didn’t. He reached for the door handle and jerked his chin. ‘Back up a step.’

The order was met with a defiant lack of movement, her luminous eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Is my father aware of how you got me out of the nightclub?’

Tyler’s arm dropped. He’d wondered how long it would take for her to go there but if she thought she could use it against him, she was wrong. ‘You want to tell him where you were?’

‘He doesn’t know?’

‘I thought the mayor was supposed to know everything that goes on in his city.’

‘You didn’t answer the question.’

‘Didn’t I?’

The battle of wills made the air between them crackle and when her gaze briefly flickered to his mouth Tyler knew that kiss was as much on her mind as it had been on his. Her awareness of him was in the darkening of her eyes, in the increased rise and fall of her breasts. Any hope he’d had that what happened between them could be blamed on the heat of the moment was gone. But while he’d lost his self-control once he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

‘You getting in or am I putting you there?’

‘You can’t manhandle me like a common criminal,’ she replied on a note of outrage.

‘Try me.’

She glared at him as she took a step back. ‘Door.’

Tyler held it open, unable to resist an incline of his head and a sweep of his arm in invitation. ‘Your Highness...’

FOUR

His attitude sucked.

‘What is his problem?’ Miranda asked as she paced her bedroom floor with her cell phone glued to her ear.

‘He’s rude, overbearing and obviously doesn’t know his place,’ Crystal replied.

‘Obviously, but that’s not what I meant. It’s like I’ve done something to him way worse than making him open a stupid door.’

‘He’s supposed to open doors.’

‘He is.’ Miranda agreed. ‘It’s courteous.’

‘It is. And how dare he speak to you that way?’

‘I know, right?’

Having allowed her the customary five minutes to rant, Crystal called a halt with ‘Can we stop being the mean girls from high school now?’

‘Do we have to?’

‘Yes,’ she replied firmly. ‘You were never that girl. Now take a deep breath and tell Auntie Crystal what the real problem is.’

Miranda stopped pacing and dropped heavily onto the end of her bed. ‘I don’t like him.’

‘You liked him on Friday night,’ Crystal crooned.

‘That’s when he wasn’t a brick wall standing between me and—’

‘All those nasty sex fantasies you had about him over the weekend?’

Flopping back onto the soft covers, Miranda blinked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. ‘There are at least three people I could have called who’ll tell me what I want to hear right now. And yet I still called you. Why is that?’

‘I’m your reality check,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘The only reason you don’t like him now is because he’s switched sides. Up till this morning he was part of your dream to do what—or who—you want, whenever you want. Now he’s part of the system keeping you in servitude.’

‘I hate that,’ Miranda admitted reluctantly.

‘Of course you do. No one likes to have a sex fantasy ruined by reality. We all prefer to live in hope.’

‘I was really hopeful,’ Miranda said wistfully.

‘And I really wanted to hear all the sordid details over lunch,’ her best friend complained. ‘I can’t believe you let this guy outwit you.’

‘I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.’

‘You learnt from the best.’

‘You’re a bad influence.’

‘I am,’ Crystal said with pride.

‘Which if you recall is part of the reason you’re not my father’s favourite person.’

‘He’s just never gonna let that reality-TV-show thing go, is he?’ she said in a tone that suggested she’d rolled her eyes. ‘You were on camera for like, five seconds.’

‘Might have helped if I wasn’t dancing on a table at the time.’

‘Does he have something against people having fun?’

It was an old debate. One Miranda knew she would never win with Mayor Kravitz. As far as hizzoner was concerned Crystal was a publicity nightmare: rich, overindulged, and for a considerable amount of time, out of control. She might since have moved on to a lucrative career of celebrity endorsements but when her fame stemmed from notoriety...

Frankly Miranda found it a little insulting he thought she could be so easily led. If she chose to she could get into trouble all on her lonesome. She didn’t need help. What she needed was the freedom to do what she wanted without her actions becoming fodder for the gossip hungry.

The thought added to her restlessness. She needed to get out for a while before the walls started to close in. Turning her head on the covers, she checked the alarm clock by her bed. ‘I’ll be at your door in a half hour.’

‘Are you going to rant some more when you get here?’

‘Probably,’ she admitted.

‘Awesome. I’ll open the wine. By the time you arrive I should be two glasses more sympathetic to your plight.’

Miranda wriggled upright, tucked her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans with some cash and pushed her feet into a waiting pair of deck shoes. Twisting her hair into a ponytail, she grabbed a baseball cap from one drawer and sunglasses from the collection in another. Ready for action she opened her bedroom door and checked the hall. Once she confirmed it was empty her lucky music talisman started playing in her head.

It wouldn’t be the first time a combination of wits, observation and an extensive study of spy movies was put to good use. As a result she knew to time her progress downstairs; to wait for the turn of the security cameras to take advantage of blind spots. She also knew the best window of opportunity for escape was at shift-change time, when the security details gathered to hand over the baton. At the foot of the stairs she stopped and held her breath, waiting for the last squeaking footsteps to disappear into the back of the house before she jogged across the foyer.

As usual the kitchen was deserted.

A bubble of exhilaration formed in her chest as she made it to the short hallway at the other side of the room. Tantalizingly close to the exit and secure in the knowledge she had an ally on the gate outside, she allowed the music in her head to become a low rhythm on the tip of her tongue. But as she reached for the handle a loud crunch made her still.

When she turned around Detective Party Pooper was leaning against the larder door with an apple in his hand.

‘The Mission Impossible theme is appropriate,’ he said with his mouth full.

Miranda gritted her teeth. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Overtime,’ he replied with a nonchalant shrug of broad shoulders. ‘Reckoned I’d keep an eye on things till the rest of the new detail is up to speed.’

How diligent of him.

She noted his appearance: the lack of a jacket, the loosened tie below an unbuttoned collar, the rolled up sleeves over tanned muscular forearms. When her pulse sped up she ignored it, refusing to have a physical reaction to his presence when she disliked him so much. Instead she focused on how quickly he’d settled in—standing there as if he owned the place and had been there forever.

‘I’m trying to decide if this counts as another strike when you haven’t left the building yet.’ He nodded firmly. ‘I’ll get back to you on that.’

When he nudged off the wall and went into the kitchen Miranda fought the need to growl. She hadn’t thrown a hissy fit since she was eight and denied a puppy, but it was tempting after a day in his company. Aiming a longing glance at the exit she sighed heavily and retraced her steps. He was standing at the island in the middle of the room when she walked in, casually flipping over the pages of a newspaper.

‘No disguise,’ he commented without looking at her. ‘Means you were going somewhere people know you.’ Another page of the newspaper flipped over. ‘Narrows it down some...’

Miranda swore she would never kiss another handsome stranger. She’d learned her lesson. They could turn into frogs. Now if her fairy godmother could just drop a bolt of lightning out of the sky and incinerate him, she promised to be a very good girl for a very long time. Even if she’d already been there and felt she’d earned a break.

In the absence of magical intervention she considered the options left open to her. She’d be damned if she was retreating to her bedroom. Neither was she staying for a friendly chat over coffee the way she used to with the members of the team she’d liked. Giving him anything resembling an order obviously wasn’t going to work and she sincerely doubted any attempt at negotiation would end in anything but a migraine.

‘I was going to stretch my legs,’ she said when the silence began to bother her.

He shook his head as he turned another page. ‘Lying sways you closer to strike two.’

‘I’m glad the trust part of this relationship is going so well.’

‘Stop treating the guys in this unit like idiots and they might trust you a lot quicker.’

Miranda bristled at the accusation. ‘You’ve been here five minutes. You don’t know anything about—’

‘How many of them do you reckon you got fired?’

‘I...’ Miranda faltered and frowned at the hesitation. She hadn’t got anyone fired. If she had she would have done something to fix it. ‘The bodyguards who left the mansion chose to leave.’

‘Ever ask yourself why?’

She lifted her chin. ‘Mac said he missed riding in a squad car.’

She’d liked Mac. He was a straight-up guy. Happily married with a young family, he’d done a lot of community policing when he left the academy and said he wanted to get back to it. They’d joked around about the squad car but when it came down to it he missed being in a position where he could talk to people. She understood that but was sorry to see him go. Unlike some people, he’d been really good about letting her make unscheduled stops for shopping or lunch when she needed to take a breather. On his last day she’d given him season tickets for the Giants because he loved football so much. She leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. Detective Smarty-pants knew squat.

‘Yeah, those things are a real sweet ride compared to the low-spec models you have parked outside.’ His gaze lifted. ‘Don’t know much about guys and cars, do you?’

‘I’m reliably informed there’s a little more to your job than the toys which go with it.’ She nodded at the gun holstered at his lean waist beside his shield. ‘It would be nice to think they don’t hand those out to everyone who thinks it’s cool to carry one.’