Loe raamatut: «Her Man in Manhattan»
Up close and personal—with her bodyguard!
It seems mayor’s daughter Miranda Kravitz has scored herself a new and very dreamy bodyguard! Apparently the fireworks between them are scorching, but will this tabloid darling really be willing to give up her newfound taste for freedom—no matter how gorgeous Tyler Brannigan is?
Rumor has it Brannigan hates playing by the rules and has used up all his strikes with the NYPD vice squad. So now this cop’s paying his dues with a temporary assignment as babysitter. If anyone can keep this Manhattan princess in check, surely it’s this tough-guy detective? Hopefully handcuffs won’t be necessary!
His body loomed over her, the tip of his nose barely an inch away from hers as his voice rumbled. “Get in the car.”
Miranda hadn’t even noticed it was there and frankly, with his mouth in kissing distance, she couldn’t care less. She angled her head in a move that suggested she was about to fit their lips together and she lifted her chin, reducing the gap to millimeters. Then she looked deep into cobalt-blue eyes and whispered, “Make. Me.”
When her heavy-lidded gaze lowered to his mouth she saw a corner of it tug upward.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said in a low, husky, unbelievably sexy voice before moving his head so he could whisper in her ear. “I’m more trouble than you can handle.”
It was as if he’d placed all of her fantasies within her grasp. Miranda blinked at him while he leaned away from her and reached for the door.
“We’ll see.…”
Her Man in Manhattan
Trish Wylie
ABOUT TRISH WYLIE
Trish Wylie worked on a long career of careers to get to the one she’d wanted from her late teens. She flicked her blond 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 got completely lost in her car in every single town in Ireland while working as a sales rep.
It took all that character-building and a healthy sense of humor 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, makeup 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 makeover.…
This and other titles by Trish Wylie are available in ebook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk.
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Excerpt
ONE
Tyler wasn’t the only guy watching her. It was just a shame he didn’t want to be there and resented the living hell out of the fact he didn’t have a choice.
If things had been different he could enjoy the view.
Pinpricks of sparkling light swirled over the dance floor as she sashayed sideways and made a sexy rotation of her hips. She had a body made for sin: tall, slender, with full breasts and flawless, sun-kissed skin. Raising bared arms above her head lifted the hem of her silver minidress, exposing several more inches of delectably long legs encased in white platform-heeled knee-high boots. Add the sleek bob of a snowy wig, which covered her trademark hair, to darkly made-up eyes and ruby-red lips and she would make a fortune dancing on a dais.
When she bent her knees and shimmied downwards—rising with an effortlessly fluid curve of her spine—he didn’t have difficulty picturing her with a spotlight following her every move. Judging by the fun she’d had fending off potential dance partners she would probably get a kick out of it. But despite her obvious comfort in the centre of so much male attention she stood out of the writhing mass of humanity too much for his liking. She was lucky no one had recognized her and if there was one thing Tyler knew, it was luck had a tendency to run out.
Even for the Irish.
Without warning her gaze collided into his with a pinpoint accuracy, which made it feel as if she’d known he was there all along. The impact created a sudden flare of heat in his body, like a spark igniting a fuse. Refusing to accept it was anything but the natural biological reaction of red-blooded male to hot female, he held his ground and waited to see what she would do next.
Rolling her shoulders and hips, she ran the tip of her tongue over glossy lips and smiled a slow, sensual smile. The silent come-on might have summoned him to the dance floor if he’d ever danced a day in his life. But even if he had he wasn’t the kind of guy who came running when a woman crooked an invisible finger. If she wanted to come talk to him she could slide on over. A corner of his mouth lifted.
He was willing to bet she’d be pleased as punch when she found out who she’d been flirting with.
When something was yelled in her ear by her friend she laughed and turned away. A moment later she flashed another smile over her shoulder and swayed, drawing his gaze to the curve of her rear.
Tyler dragged his gaze away. It didn’t take a genius to work out she was going to be trouble. He’d known that before he laid eyes on her.
Lifting the beer bottle in his hand, he took a long pull and frowned at the label in disgust as he swallowed. Light anything had never been his style; when associated with the word beer it was just all kinds of wrong.
As he experienced a visceral demand from his body to watch her again he forced his gaze elsewhere. Even if he was officially on the clock he wasn’t paid to watch her every move. He had to focus on his surroundings; survey the room for potential threats and monitor the crowd. Being attracted to her was a problem he didn’t need, especially when it felt as if they’d been tumbling down on him like boulders after a landslide of late.
He missed the days when he had more control over his life. How had it got so screwed up?
When it came to why he was standing there the path was easy to track. A guy had a friendly word of warning for one low life too many and suddenly the brass were tossing around phrases like ‘desk duty’ and ‘temporary leave of absence.’ Granted, the fact he was unrepentant probably had something to do with it, but what he still didn’t get was why his punishment involved babysitting.
Despite his ability to provide what she was looking for, he had better things to do with his time than spend it reining in an entitled rich kid in search of a few thrills to liven up her—
A familiar face caught his gaze as the music changed to a faster beat and raised an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. Immediately on alert, Tyler swiftly scanned the rest of the room, targeting two more likely subjects before he hit another face he recognized.
He had to get her out of there.
Setting the bottle down on the nearest table, he looked at the dance floor and frowned when he discovered she wasn’t there. Gripping the brass railing in front of him, he played a short game of Where’s Waldo? before locating her on her way to the bar with her friend. After checking the nearest exit point, he headed straight for her.
He was two steps away when the music stopped and voices yelled out, ‘NYPD. Everyone stay where you are!’
With her focus on what was happening on the other side of the room, she jumped in surprise as he grabbed her hand. Her eyes widened when she looked up at him. ‘What—?’
‘This way.’
She tugged against his hold as he dragged her towards the exit. ‘Let me go!’
‘You want to get arrested?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then follow my lead.’
Hauling open the door, he stepped them into a dimly lit hallway and looked from side to side. A lightning-fast inventory revealed restrooms, a payphone, steps to what Tyler assumed was a basement on their left and enough banging from the right to indicate they were about to have company. The basement was the most viable option if it had a loading bay that opened onto the sidewalk, but before he could check he heard a crash. Out of time and in need of a distraction, he backed her into the wall and smashed his lips against hers.
Big mistake.
The fuse she’d lit from the dance floor set off the equivalent of an explosive charge. Plumes of fire engulfed him, incinerating rational thought as the invitation of her parted lips was met with the instinctual thrust of his tongue. Need pulsed through his body as an appreciative moan vibrated in her throat. His hand gripped her hip and slid lower. In response she lifted her leg off the ground and hooked it around the back of his knee, allowing him to cradle a silky thigh and lift it higher.
It didn’t matter if they were seconds away from being discovered in a highly compromised position. If anything it immediately turned his thoughts to the position his body desperately wanted to be in—his imagination adding fuel to the fire with the suggestion her underwear was as sexy as her dress. Or, better still, non-existent.
‘You seeing this?’ a voice asked.
‘Hey! Break it up over there,’ another voice demanded.
Wrenching his mouth free, Tyler hauled in much needed air before squinting at the beams of light aimed their way. Allowing the leg he was holding to lower to the floor he took a step forwards to block her body with his.
‘Stay right where you are, buddy,’ the first voice said in warning.
Recognizing who it was, Tyler raised his arms at his sides, palms forwards, and waited for the penny to drop with the heavily armed cop. Since silently willing the younger man not to do anything stupid was pointless when saying the words out loud had never had any effect, he added an almost imperceptible shake of his head. When the torch nodded a little he assumed the point had been made and lowered his arms. But when it moved in an attempt to see who was behind him Tyler frowned. ‘Problem, Officer?’
‘You know there’s a raid going on next door?’
‘Can’t say I’d noticed...’
‘We can guess why.’ The cop cleared his throat before asking, ‘Do we need to search you two for narcotics?’
Funny guy. ‘What we’re high on doesn’t have anything to do with drugs.’ Tyler smirked.
A fine-boned hand snaked around his arm and flattened on his chest. ‘Can we get arrested for not being able to keep our hands off each other?’ the woman behind him asked in a passable, not to mention sultry Southern accent.
Tyler made a note of the fact it obviously wasn’t the first time she’d acted her way out of a tricky situation. ‘If we can I’m willing to do the time.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘How about you?’
‘Are there co-ed jails in the state of New York?’ She chuckled throatily, the sound strumming across the taut strings of his libido. ‘Just think how much fun we could have sharing a room.’
When she gently caught his ear lobe between her teeth and touched it with the wet tip of her tongue, he felt the impact of the contact all the way to his toes.
‘Getting a room somewhere sounds like a plan to me,’ the officer in front of them said before he lowered his torch. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind.’
Grasping hold of the hand on his chest, Tyler headed down the hall and through the busted door. As they entered an alley bathed in flashing red and blue lights one of the cops by a line of vehicles lowered his hand from the radio on his shoulder and waved them through. If he’d been her, he would have had questions about the ease of their escape, but apparently she was too busy jogging on her platform heels to keep up with his determined stride to ask.
‘My friend—’
‘Unless she’s carrying drugs she’ll be fine.’
When she tripped he simply tugged on her hand and kept walking, the anger he felt directed as much at himself as her. He could still taste her on his lips: a combination of strawberries, spice and liberation. He couldn’t remember a time he’d wanted a woman so badly he would have risked everything for a brief moment of mutual release. What he could remember were the days when his timing—not to mention his judgment—had been better.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked a little breathlessly as they rounded a corner onto a wide street where they stood a better chance of finding a cab.
If she’d been any other woman who reacted the way she had when he kissed her, they’d be headed straight for his place. But he couldn’t use her to make him feel good for a few hours even if he made certain she felt the same way. Until he completed his assignment, went back to where he was supposed to be and handed out some justice, he didn’t have the right to live his life as if nothing had happened.
To focus his mind he summoned the memory of another woman’s face and the words he’d said to her. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he’d lied. ‘You can trust me.’
‘I’m not taking you anywhere.’ When he spotted a flash of yellow he raised an arm in the air to flag down the cab. ‘He is.’ Digging in his pocket for a handful of bills as the vehicle drew to a halt beside the kerb, he handed them through the window to the driver. ‘That should cover it.’
He held open the rear door and waited for her to get inside, his gaze lowered to watch long legs fold gracefully into place before he looked into the shadows of her eyes.
‘I don’t get a name?’ she asked.
‘You already have one.’
Her mouth curved into a smile. ‘I meant your name.’
Tyler shook his head at the liquid cadence of her voice. Next she’d be asking for a phone number and when she could see him again. It was all just one big game to her. He could have been anyone—drug dealer, kidnapper, serial killer—she had no idea how dark the world could be.
But he did.
‘You’re welcome.’ He closed the door and turned away without mentioning she’d be seeing him again real soon.
Why ruin the surprise?
Since it was the last one she’d have in a while, he hoped she’d enjoyed her little adventure. Come Monday she would be playing by his rules.
Cross him and he’d make her sorry they ever met.
TWO
After checking that Crystal made it out of the nightclub okay and apologizing profusely for abandoning her, Miranda spent the rest of the weekend fantasizing about her rescuer.
She’d felt his gaze on her before she saw him, which was rare for someone who had spent most of her life being watched. Understandably curious she’d sought him out, her breath catching when she laid eyes on him.
He was the most compelling man she’d ever seen.
From what she could tell he was handsome in a rough-edged kind of way, but that wasn’t what made him exciting. What did was that even while standing tall and straight he gave the impression of a predator crouched to spring on its prey. Brazenly answering his interest in her with a smile of encouragement had felt like playing with fire, the associated rush of adrenaline addictive.
And when it came to that kiss, oh, my...
Smoothing her palms over her elegantly tailored linen dress, she followed the curve from breast to waist to hip. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine the hands touching her body were larger and more masculine; a deep voice was rumbling in her ear, describing everything he was going to do to her in explicit detail.
A sigh of regret left her lips.
If they hadn’t been interrupted...
None of her small acts of rebellion had ever given her the same rush she got when she thought about doing more than kissing him. But how would she find him again in a city the size of New York when she didn’t know his name?
A familiar three-tapped knock on her bedroom door snapped her out of her reverie.
‘Come in,’ she called as she stepped over to sit on the stool in front of her dressing table.
‘Good morning, Miranda.’
‘Good morning, Grace,’ she answered cheerfully when her father’s personal assistant appeared. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful morning? The park looks lovely from the windows. I don’t suppose there’s enough of a gap in my schedule today to allow for a leisurely stroll?’
‘No.’ Grace’s reflection smiled apologetically. ‘But at least you’ll be outside for a while.’
‘Well, that’s something.’
While Miranda attached small pearl-drop earrings to her lobes, the ever efficient fifty-something who had been in her life for so long she’d become a kind of maiden aunt opened her file and got down to business.
‘You have a nine a.m. appointment for a dress fitting with Ms Wang. At ten you’re due at a community project in the Bronx with time for a meet-and-greet before morning coffee. At eleven-thirty—’
‘Do you think the world would come to an end if we took a day off?’ Miranda mused as she added a flawless string of pearls to her neck and fluffed her hair into place. ‘We could pack a picnic, grab a handful of gossip magazines and spend the morning people watching...’
When she nodded enthusiastically in the mirror Grace closed her file. ‘Before or after you go through the Help Wanted ads with me?’
‘One little day,’ Miranda cajoled with a pout and a flutter of long lashes.
‘Your father would like to see you before you leave.’
‘Ten bucks says it’s a reminder to kiss babies.’
‘I don’t think they’re eligible to vote.’
‘No. But with any luck they’ll have fathers there for me to flirt with or mothers for me to charm with talk of how much I want kids of my own one day.’ Pushing to her feet, she lifted her bag and shoes and linked their arms at the elbows as they crossed the room.
It was the kind of simple human contact she didn’t stop to think about with Grace. She’d heard somewhere people needed eighteen inches of personal space but for most of Miranda’s life the distance had been greater. Hence a small part of why the memory of full bodily contact with a virile male was so hard to shake, most likely.
Not that there weren’t other reasons.
‘It’s remiss of me not to have produced a suitable grandchild by now,’ she continued in the same bright tone. ‘Chubby toddlers are always a hit with the electorate.’
‘If you start planning ahead you could schedule it for the whispered campaign for Governor.’
‘Always best to keep something in reserve.’ Miranda nodded in agreement. She smiled as they stepped into the hall. ‘Good morning, Roger. Is that a new tie?’
‘Wife bought it for my birthday,’ her father’s press secretary replied with an answering smile.
‘She has excellent taste.’
‘Speaking of spouses, finding a husband before you have that chubby toddler might be a good idea,’ Grace whispered conspiratorially.
Miranda leaned closer to whisper back, ‘I’ve heard you don’t have to have one to get the other.’
‘You do when your father’s the mayor.’
Another face in the hallway earned another smile. ‘Good morning, Lou. How was the Little League game?’
‘Two strikes and a home run,’ her father’s head of security replied with the swing of an invisible bat.
‘Tell Tommy I said “yay,”’ she replied with a ladylike punch to the air.
‘Shoes,’ Grace reminded her outside the door to her father’s study.
‘What would I do without you?’
‘Run barefoot and be late for appointments.’
‘Now doesn’t that sound like fun?’ She handed over her bag for safekeeping, slipped on her heels and took a step back to turn a circle. ‘Am I ready for inspection?’
‘You’ll do.’
After a light knock on the door, she waited for the cursory ‘come’ and turned the handle.
‘Ah, here she is,’ her father said from behind his mahogany desk as she crossed the room. ‘Miranda, this is Detective Brannigan. He’ll be overseeing your security during the remainder of the campaign.’
Though unaware there were any changes planned, she kept a smile in place as she waited for the man to stand up and turn around. Her first impression was of his size; he was six feet two, possibly three, his build more running back than linebacker. Many people would have been surprised by that—when they thought bodyguard they pictured brute force—but while physical strength and fitness were both important the members of her family’s protective details came in many shapes and sizes. Keen observation skills and an ability to think on their feet were of equal importance.
Any following thought on the subject disappeared in a flash and was instantly replaced by shock when she looked into cobalt-blue eyes. It took every ounce of her social skills to prevent the drop of her jaw.
‘Miss Kravitz,’ he said in a low rumbling baritone as her hand was engulfed in a firm handshake.
It wasn’t what she’d fantasized he would say if they met again but the sound of his voice was enough to remind her of every imagined word. She peeled her tongue off the roof of her mouth as heat suffused her palm and rushed up her arm. Had he known who she was when he came to her rescue? Had he been watching her because he was on duty? How long had he been following her?
As she remembered to reclaim her hand and lowered it to her side—his touch still tingling on her skin—her gaze shifted to her father. There was no way to determine how much trouble she was in while he was wearing his elected official expression but if he was upset about something it was a new tactic. Usually the punishment for her supposed misdemeanors involved a lecture on responsibility—the kind she liked to think she’d endured stoically over the years.
‘He’ll report to Lou the same way Ron did,’ he said. ‘They’ve selected a new detail for you.’
All of her guys had been replaced—since when and, more to the point, why?
‘Detective Brannigan suggested a shake-up,’ he added so she knew who to blame.
While he turned his attention to some of the papers on his desk she looked at the man beside her to see if the reality lived up to her fantasy. Strong masculine features—short, dark blond hair, thick lashes framing his intense eyes. He was every bit as compelling as she remembered. Seeing him again reawakened the potent sensual awareness in her body. It transported her back in time to when he’d kissed her into a boneless puddle of lust and walked away.
Now she thought about it Miranda wasn’t certain she’d forgiven him for that. Particularly when it was more than obvious he still had the upper hand. She’d wondered how he managed to get them past a cordon of New York’s finest with such ease. In her furtive imagination he’d been everything from a mafia don with cops on his payroll to a combination of secretive billionaire by day and caped crusader by night. That he was with the NYPD made more sense but why hadn’t he said so? Why the charade? Why kiss her instead of flashing a badge?
He blinked lazily hooded eyes. ‘I believe you have a nine a.m. appointment.’
Miranda ignored him and rounded the desk to place a kiss on her father’s cheek. ‘Bye, Daddy.’
‘Bye sweetheart. Have a good day.’
‘You, too,’ she replied before lifting her chin as she walked back across the room. ‘Now we can leave.’
In a few long strides he’d overtaken her and held open the door but she didn’t thank him for the courtesy while she was piqued by his duplicity.
‘New bodyguard?’ Grace whispered as she handed over her bag and a copy of the day’s itinerary.
Miranda crinkled her nose in mock delight. ‘Lucky me.’
She led the way down the second-floor landing, past a rare five-seat settee that had been discovered in the basement of City Hall. Despite living in the mansion for the two terms her father had been mayor she never took her surroundings for granted. If anything the combination of rare paintings and antiques interspersed with modern furniture reminded her of what a privilege it was to live in one of the few surviving eighteenth-century mansions in the city. It was something she could appreciate more approaching twenty-five than she had at seventeen. But unlike most mornings she didn’t take the time to greet any of her favorite pieces with a smile or to mull over her continuing need to escape such a beautifully gilded cage.
She was too distracted by the man walking behind her, her body highly tuned to his presence.
They were halfway down the carpeted stairs before she lowered her voice to ask, ‘Did you know who I was?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did my father order you to follow me?’
‘No.’
She smiled at the woman making her way upstairs. ‘Good morning, Dorothy. Is it as beautiful outside as it looks through the window?’
‘It is,’ the maid replied with an answering smile.
The tension became heavier with each muted downward step while Miranda tried to pretend she couldn’t feel an intense gaze following her every move. There was no way she could spend every day in the company of a man she’d pictured naked...and sweaty...and as aroused as he’d left her after one little kiss. She had a reputation for being cool, calm and poised in public. She wasn’t about to exchange it for hot, bothered and sexually frustrated. It wasn’t as if the discovery he was—technically speaking—a ‘good guy’ had done anything to dilute her fantasy, either. Even while wearing a dark suit, white shirt and patriotically striped tie he oozed the danger she’d craved since her late teens.
Skydiving, bungee jumping, swimming with sharks—they were all on an ever-growing wish list of forbidden pursuits she’d added to over the years.
Making wild, crazy whoopee with one of her bodyguards had never crossed her mind, until now.
Her heels clicked on the exquisitely refurbished faux marble patterning of the wooden floor in the foyer. In a matter of seconds they would be in the vestibule, away from the constantly moving crowd that never quite managed to make her feel less alone. They could take advantage of the moment and pick up where they’d left off. He would grab her hand and swing her around, press her against the wall with his muscled body, crush her lips beneath his and...
Miranda gave herself a mental smack upside the head. She needed to focus. The brief alone time they had between inner and outer doors should be used to reclaim some of the control over her life she couldn’t afford to relinquish. She hadn’t been fighting for her freedom so someone new could stride in and clip her wings before she had a chance to stretch them. With that in mind, the second the first door closed behind them she turned to face him.
‘As it’s your first day I think we should lay out some ground rules....’
‘I agree.’ He nodded. ‘So shut up and listen.’
Miranda gaped at him in disbelief. ‘You can’t talk to me like that.’
‘What you mean is no one else ever has, right?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I’m willing to bet folks have been kowtowing to you since you were in diapers.’ The forwards step he took seemed to suck all the air out of the vestibule. ‘What you need to learn quick-smart is I don’t kowtow to anyone,’ he said in a low, mesmerizing rumble. ‘I’m here to do a job. Make that more difficult for me than it needs to be, things will get ugly.’ He jerked his brows. ‘You feel me?’
Did she—? She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘No begging necessary,’ he replied with a small shake of his head. ‘Just be a good girl and do as you’re told and we’ll be golden.’
‘You know I can have you removed from this position?’
‘Good luck with that. I’ve been trying to get out of it for a week.’ He reached past her, held open the outer door and inclined his head. ‘After you, princess.’
A dazed Miranda stepped through the door, her gaze locked on broad shoulders as he overtook her on the gravel driveway. While there was no denying part of her buzzed with the titillating after-effects of his forceful tone, another was mildly outraged. No one had ever spoken to her that way. Who did he think he was?
She narrowed her eyes. It didn’t matter who he was. He was about to discover she wouldn’t be easily intimidated. She was a politician’s daughter. Everything she needed to know about hiding her emotions she’d learned from masters of disguising how they felt. Summoning an air of poise, she reached into her bag for a pair of oversize sunglasses and her cell phone. If he thought he was dealing with a spoilt princess she would give him exactly what he expected. Covering her eyes, she hit speed dial.
‘Good morning, darling, how are you?’ She purposefully spoke loud enough to be overheard. ‘My day has got off to the most dreadful start.’
‘The Queen of England called and said she wanted her accent back?’ Crystal sighed dramatically. ‘You’re standing me up for lunch, aren’t you?’
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