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‘Another fantastic novel by Trish Wylie which you will devour in a single sitting! Brimming with passion, emotion, romance and humour, and featuring a fantastic heroine and a gorgeous hero … sheer perfection!’
—CataRomance on
O’Reilly’s Bride
‘With its splendid cast of amiable characters, hilarious one-liners, heartwarming romance and powerful emotional intensity … another triumph for the hugely talented Trish Wylie, one of the brightest stars of contemporary romance!’
—CataRomance on
Project: Parenthood
‘Absolutely wonderful! Trish Wylie’s spellbinding tale will tickle your funny bone and tug at your heartstrings. Featuring characters which leap off the pages, realistic dialogue, sweet romance, sizzling sex scenes, electrifying sexual tension and dramatic emotional intensity … feel-good romance at its finest!’
—CataRomance on
White-Hot
About the Author
TRISH WYLIE worked on a long career of careers to get to the one she wanted from her late teens. She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder while playing the promotions game, patted her manicured hands on the backs of musicians in the music business, smiled sweetly at awkward customers during the retail nightmare known as the run-up to Christmas, and has got completely lost in her car in every single town in Ireland while working as a sales rep. And it took all that character-building and a healthy sense of humour to get her dream job, she feels—where she spends her days in reindeer slippers, with her hair in whatever band she can find to keep it out of the way, make-up as vague and distant a memory as manicured nails, while she gets to create the kind of dream man she’d still like to believe is out there somewhere. If it turns out he is, she promises she’ll let you know … after she’s been out for a new wardrobe, a manicure and a make-over …
Also by Trish Wylie
The Inconvenient Laws of Attraction
Breathless!
Bride of the Emerald Isle
Claimed by the Billionaire Bad Boy
Her One and Only Valentine
Her Real-Life Hero
Her Unexpected Baby
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
New York’s Finest Rebel
Trish Wylie
To my lovely editor Flo, fellow member
of the ‘I heart Daniel Brannigan’ fanclub.
CHAPTER ONE
‘Every girl knows there are days for heels and days for flats. It could be a metaphor for life if you think about it. Let’s all make today a heels day, shall we?’
SIREN red and dangerously high, they were the sexiest pair of heels Daniel Brannigan had ever seen. Silently cursing the amount of time it took to haul the cage doors into place, he watched them disappear upstairs.
He really wanted to meet the woman in those shoes.
Punching on the button until there was a jerk of upward movement, he tried to play catch-up in the slowest elevator ever invented. After the first of three endlessly monotonous trips, he knew the stairs were going to be his preferred mode of travel in the future. But until he had all of his worldly possessions—few that they were—carted from his truck to the fifth floor, he didn’t have a choice.
A flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision.
Target acquired.
Turning in the small space, he assessed each detail as it came into sight. Thin straps circled dainty ankles, the angle of her small feet adding enough shape to her calves to remind him that he was overdue for some R & R. If she lived in the same apartment block he was moving into, it was a complication he could do without. But if the effect her shoes had on his libido was anything to go by, he reckoned it was worth the risk. He hadn’t earned the nickname Danger Danny for nothing.
The elevator jarred to an unexpected halt, an elderly woman with a small dog in her arms scowling pointedly at the boxes piled around his feet. ‘Going down?’
‘Up,’ he replied curtly. Rocking forward, he nudged the button with his elbow.
Don’t disappear on me, babe.
The adrenalin rush of pursuit had always done it for him, as had the kind of woman it took to wear a skirt so short it made him stifle a groan when it came into view. Flared at mid-smooth-skinned-thigh, the flirty cheerleader number lovingly hugged the curve of her hips before dipping in at a narrow waist. He glanced at the fine-boned hand curled around handles of bags labelled with names that meant nothing to him, mouth curving into a smile at the lack of anything sparkling on her ring finger. On the floor below his, she turned to speak to someone in the hall. To his frustration it meant he couldn’t see her face as the elevator creaked by. Instead he was left with an image of tumbling locks of long dark hair and the sound of sparkling feminine laughter.
Fighting with the cage again when the elevator stopped, he did what he had done on his previous trips and nudged a box forward to fill the gap. In the following moment of silence, footsteps sounded on the stairs. A trickle of awareness ran down his spine as he turned, gaze rising until he was looking into large dark eyes. Eyes that narrowed as his smile faded.
‘Jorja,’ he said dryly.
‘Daniel,’ she replied in the same tone before she tilted her head and arched a brow. ‘Didn’t occur to you anyone else might want to use the elevator today?’
‘Stairs are good for cardio.’
‘That would be a no, then.’
‘Offering to help me move in? That’s neighbourly of you.’ He thrust the box in his arms at her, letting go before she had an opportunity to refuse.
There was a tinkle of breaking glass as it hit the floor between their feet.
‘Oops.’ She blinked.
Oops, his ass. The fact she’d obviously made interesting changes in wardrobe while he was overseas didn’t make her any less irritating than she’d been for the last five and a half years. ‘No welcome-home banner?’ he asked.
‘Wouldn’t that suggest I’m happy you’re here?’
‘You got a problem with me being here, you should have made it known when my application came up in front of the residents committee.’
‘What makes you think I didn’t?’
‘Clue was in the words unanimous decision.’ He shrugged. ‘What can I say? People like when a cop lives in the building. Makes them feel secure.’
She smiled a saccharine-sweet smile. ‘The elderly woman you ticked off two floors down is the head of the residents’ committee. I give it a week before she starts a petition to have you evicted.’
Daniel took a measured breath. He had never met another woman who had the same effect on his nerves as fingernails down a chalkboard. ‘Know your biggest problem, babe?’
‘Don’t call me babe.’
‘You underestimate my ability to be adorable when I set my mind to it. I can have the poodle lady baking cookies for me inside forty-eight hours.’
‘Bichon.’
‘What?’
‘The dog. It’s a Bichon frise.’
‘It got a name?’
‘Gershwin.’ She rolled her eyes when she realized what she was doing. ‘And I’m afraid that’s my quota for helpfulness all used up for the day.’
Bending over, he lifted the box at their feet, held it to his ear and gave it a brisk shake. ‘You owe me a half-dozen glasses.’
‘Sue me,’ she said as she turned on her heel.
As he followed her down the hall Daniel’s errant gaze lowered to watch the sway of her hips before he reminded himself who he was looking at. He had done some dumb things in his time but checking out Jorja Dawson was stupid on a whole new level. If she were the last woman left in the state of New York, he would take a vow of celibacy before getting involved with her. He even had a list of reasons why.
Casually tossing long locks of shining hair over her shoulder, she reached into her purse and turned to face him at the door to her apartment. ‘I don’t suppose you’re considering showing your face at Sunday lunch once you’ve unpacked? Your mother would appreciate it.’
Number six on his list: Family involvement.
He looked into her eyes. ‘Will you be there?’
‘Never miss it.’
‘Tell them I said hi.’
‘Are you saying you don’t go because I’m there?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ He moved the box in his arms to dig into a pocket for his key. ‘If I rearranged my life around you I wouldn’t be moving into an apartment across the hall from you. But just so you know—’ he leaned closer and lowered his voice ‘—you’ll move before I do.’
‘You’ve never stayed anywhere longer than six months,’ she stated categorically. ‘And even then it was because the army sent you there.’
‘Navy,’ he corrected without missing a beat. ‘And if there’s one thing you should keep in mind about the Marines, it’s that we don’t give up ground.’
‘I’ve lived here for more than four years. I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Then I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.’
Something he could have done without, frankly. Not that he was likely to tell her, but she was the main reason he’d debated taking the apartment. She was a spy who could report back to the rest of the Brannigan clan in weekly discussions over a roast and cheesecake from Junior’s. But as far as Daniel was concerned, if his family wanted to know how he was doing they could ask. When they did, he’d give them the same answer he had for the last eight years. With a few more recent additions to throw them off the trail.
He was fine, thanks. Sure it was good to be home. No, he hadn’t had any problems settling back into his unit. Yes, if the Reserves called him up again he would go.
They didn’t need to know more than that.
‘You know your problem, Daniel?’ She angled her head to the irritating angle she did best. ‘You think your being here bugs me when to be honest I couldn’t care less where you are, what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ She nodded. ‘I’m not one of those women you can turn into a gibbering idiot with a smile. I just hope your ego can handle that.’
‘Careful, Jo, I might take that as a challenge.’
There was a low burst of the same sparkling laughter he heard on the stairwell, making him wonder why it was he hadn’t recognized it before. Most likely it was because she didn’t laugh much when he was around. The second it looked as if she would, he’d say something to ruin her mood. He’d been good at that long before he’d started to put any effort into it.
‘I had no idea you had a sense of humour,’ she said with enough derogatory amusement to tempt him to rise to the bait.
Before he could, she opened the door to her apartment and stepped over the threshold. She turned, her gaze sliding over his body from head to toe and back up again; her laughter louder as she swung the door shut.
Daniel shook his head. Damn, she bugged him.
Damn, he bugged her.
Leaning back against the door, Jo took a long breath and frowned at the fact her heart rate was running a little faster than usual. If taking the stairs in heels had that much of an effect, she might have to consider taking a gym membership.
Granted, a small part of it could probably be chalked up to frustration at her inability to hold a conversation with him without it turning into a verbal sparring match. But she hadn’t been sparring alone. To say they brought out the worst in each other would be the understatement of the century.
Heading across the open-plan living area to her bedroom, she resisted the urge to hunt out fluffy slippers and a pair of pyjamas. If he drove her into ice-cream-eating attire on his first day there wasn’t a hope she could survive the next three months. When her cell phone rang an hour later, she checked the name on the screen before answering.
‘I still can’t believe you’ve done this to me.’
A smile sounded in Olivia’s voice. ‘Which part? Moving out, putting you in a bridesmaid dress or telling Danny about the apartment next door?’
‘I think you know what I mean,’ Jo smirked sarcastically. ‘I need a new BFF; my ideal man could have moved into that apartment if you hadn’t mentioned it to Mr Personality.’
‘Since when have you been looking for an ideal man? And anyway, he won’t be there long. Short lease, remember?’
‘If he renews I’m making a little doll and sticking dozens of pins in it.’ Leaving the mirror where she had been staging a personal fashion show in front of hyper-critical eyes, she headed for the kitchen. ‘But just so you know, he’s determined I’ll move first.’
Since everyone who had ever lived in Manhattan knew what their apartment meant to a New Yorker, she didn’t have to explain how ridiculous it was for Daniel to think she was going anywhere. The apartment she’d shared with Olivia—and from time to time still did with Jess—was a few hundred square feet of space she could call her own.
She hadn’t worked her butt off to end up back in a place she’d sworn she would never find herself again.
‘You saw him already? Is there blood in the hall?’
‘Not yet. But give it a few weeks and only one of us is leaving this building intact.’ Lifting the empty coffeepot, she sighed at the heavy beat coming from across the hall. ‘Can you hear that?’
She held the phone out at arm’s length for a moment.
‘My brother and classic rock go together like—’
‘Satan and eternal torture?’ Jo enquired.
‘Probably not the best time to mention he’s agreed to be in the wedding party, is it?’
‘I am not walking up the aisle with him.’
‘You can have Tyler.’
Good call. She loved Tyler Brannigan. He was fun to be around. ‘I thought he was determined he wasn’t wearing a monkey suit. How did you talk him into it?’
‘Danny? The same way we got him to his niece’s birthday party last month. Only this time Blake helped …’
Meaning he’d lost a bet. Jo smiled a small smile at the idea of Liv’s new fiancé tag-teaming with the rest of the Brannigan brothers against one of their own on poker night. She spooned coffee granules into the percolator. Go Blake.
‘How did he look to you?’
The question made Jo blink, her voice threaded with suspicion. ‘Same as he always looks. Why?’
‘I take it you haven’t watched the news today.’
‘No.’ She stepped into the living room and pointed the remote at the TV screen. ‘What did I miss?’
‘Wait for it …’
The report appeared almost instantaneously on the local news channel. Unable to hear what was said without racking the volume up to competitive levels, she read the feed across the bottom of the screen. It mentioned a yet-to-be-named Emergency Services Officer who might or might not have unhooked his safety harness to rescue a man on the Williamsburg Bridge. If it was who she thought it was Jo could have told them the answer. The camera attempted to focus on a speck of arm-waving humanity among the suspension cables at the exact moment another speck closed in on him. For a second they came dangerously close to falling; a collective gasp coming from the crowd of gawkers on the ground. At the last minute several more specks surrounded them and hauled them to safety.
A round of applause sounded on the screen as Jo shook her head. ‘You got to be kidding me.’
‘I know.’ Olivia sighed. ‘Mom is climbing the walls. It was tough enough for her when he was overseas …’
‘Did you call him?’
‘He’s not picking up.’
Jo glared at the door. ‘I’ll call you back.’
In the hall, she banged her fist several times against wood before the music lowered and the door opened.
‘Call your mother,’ she demanded as she thrust her cell phone at him.
‘What’s wrong?’
Ignoring what could have almost been mistaken for concern in his deep voice, she turned her hand around, hit speed-dial and lifted the phone to her ear.
‘You’re an inconsiderate asshat,’ she muttered.
The second his mother picked up she thrust the phone at him again, snatching her hand back when warm fingers brushed against hers.
‘No, it’s me. I’m fine. Someone would have called you if I wasn’t. You know that.’ He took a step back and closed the door in Jo’s face.
Back in her apartment, she froze and swore under her breath at the fact he had her cell phone. Her life was in that little rectangle of technology. Hadn’t stopped to think that one through, had she? Marching back to the kitchen, she lifted the apartment phone, checked the Post-it note on the crowded refrigerator door and dialled his sister’s new number.
‘He’s talking to your mother now.’
‘What did you do?’ Liv asked.
‘Told him exactly what I thought of him.’
‘To his face?’
Picking up where she’d left off, Jo hit the switch on the percolator. ‘I’ve never had a problem saying what I think to his face. You know that.’
There was a firm knock against wood.
‘Hang on.’ When she opened the door and her gaze met narrowed blue eyes, she took the phone from him, replacing it with the one in her hand. ‘Your sister.’
Lifting the receiver to his ear, he stepped across the threshold. ‘Hey, sis, what’s up?’
Jo blinked. How had he ended up in her apartment? Swinging the door shut, she turned and went back to the kitchen. If he thought it was becoming a regular occurrence, he could forget it. She wanted to spend time with him as much as she loved the idea of having her fingernails pulled out. Glancing briefly at the room that seemed smaller with him in it, she frowned when he looked at her from the corner of his eye.
His gaze swept over her body, lingering for longer than necessary on her feet. What was that?
Jo resisted the urge to look down at what she was wearing. There was nothing wrong with her outfit. If anything, it covered more than the one she was wearing last time he saw her. Personally she loved how the high-waist black pants made her legs seem longer, especially when accompanied by a pair of deep purple, skyscraper-heeled Louboutins. Five feet six inches didn’t exactly make her small. But considering the number of models towering over her like Amazons on regular occasions during working hours, she appreciated every additional illusionary inch of height. She shook her head a minute amount. Why should she care what he thought? What he knew about fashion wouldn’t fill a thimble. His jeans were a prime example.
Judging by the way they were worn at the knees and around the pockets on his—
She sharply averted her gaze. If he caught her looking at his rear she would never hear the end of it.
The man already had an ego the size of Texas.
‘It’s my job,’ he said with a note of impatience as he paced around the room. ‘The line didn’t reach … There wasn’t time … I knew they had my back. You done, ‘cos I’m pretty sure your friend has three more calls to make …’
Unrepentant, Jo grabbed her favourite mug and set it on the counter. She hoped Liv gave him hell, especially when he had just confirmed his stupidity. What kind of idiot unhooked his safety harness that high up? Hadn’t he heard of a little thing called gravity?
Turning as the coffee bubbled, she leaned her hip against the counter and folded her arms, studying him while he paced. His jaw tensed, broad chest lifting and lowering beneath a faded Giants T-Shirt. He looked … weary? No, weary wasn’t the right word. Tired, maybe—as if he hadn’t slept much lately. Not that she cared about that either, but since Liv asked how he looked, apparently she felt the need to study him more closely than usual and once she’d gotten started …
Okay, so if injected with a truth serum she supposed she would admit there were understandable reasons women tended to trip over their feet when he smiled. Vivid blue eyes, shortly cropped dark blond hair, the hint of shadow on his strong jaw … Add them to the ease with which his long, lean, muscular frame covered the ground and there wasn’t a single gal in Manhattan who wouldn’t volunteer their phone number.
Not that they’d hold his interest for long.
‘Well, you can stop. I’m fine. Don’t you have a wedding to plan? Said I would, didn’t I?’ His gaze slid across the room. ‘She’ll call you back.’
Before he hung up, Jo was across the apartment and had swung the door open with a smile. But instead of his taking the hint, a large hand closed it, his palm flattening on the wood by her head. His body loomed over hers. If they’d been outside he would have blocked out the sun.
‘We obviously need to talk,’ he said flatly.
No, they didn’t. Jo gritted her teeth together, rapidly losing what was left of her patience. She was contemplating grinding a stiletto heel into one of his boots when he took a short breath and added, ‘Butting your pretty little nose into other people’s business might be okay with other folks. It’s not with me.’
‘Try answering your phone and I won’t have to.’ She arched a brow. ‘Is the fact your family might think you have a death wish so very difficult for you to grasp?’
‘I don’t have a death wish.’
‘Unhooking your harness is standard procedure, is it?’
‘Go stand on the chair.’
She faltered. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
When she didn’t move, he circled her wrist with a thumb and forefinger. The jolt of heat that travelled swiftly up her arm made her drop her chin and frown as he led her across the room. Now he was touching her? He never touched her. If anything it had always felt as if there were a quarantine zone around her.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked.
‘Staging a demonstration …’
Her eyes widened when he released her wrist, set his hands on her waist and hoisted her onto an overstuffed chair. ‘Where do you get off—? Don’t stand on my furniture!’
Feet spread shoulder-width apart on the deep cushions of the sofa, he tested the springs with a couple of small bounces before jerking his chin at her. ‘Jump.’
‘What?’
‘Jump.’
That was it, she’d had enough. She wasn’t the remotest bit interested in playing games. What was he—five?
But when she attempted to get down off the chair, a long arm snapped around her waist and she was launched into mid-air. The next thing she knew, she was slammed into what felt like a wall of heat, a sharp gasp hauled through her parted lips. She jerked her chin up and stared into his eyes, the tips of their noses almost touching. What. The. Hell?
‘You see …’ he said in a mesmerizing rumble ‘… it’s all about balance …’
Surreally, his intense gaze examined her face in a way that suggested he’d never looked at her before. But what was more disconcerting was how it felt as if there weren’t anywhere they weren’t touching. The sensation of her breasts crushed against his chest made it difficult to breathe, the contact sending an erotic jolt through her abdomen. How could she be attracted to him when she disliked him so much?
When she was lowered—unbearably slowly—along the length of his large body, Jo had no choice but to grasp wide shoulders until her feet hit the cushions. She swayed as she let go. For a moment she even felt light-headed.