Cara Summers – Otherwise Engaged (страница 3)

His job with a law firm in L.A. would finally allow him to achieve his dream of practicing law. Though he’d received his degree over a year ago, he had yet to put it to any use in Manhattan. There was always one last investigation to finish, one last favor to do before he could close his office. In California, no one need ever know he’d been a P.I. for ten years. No one would seek him out and beg him to take just one last case. Rising, he walked over to his computer and pulled the plug out of the wall, then out of the machine. As he coiled it and dropped it in an open box, he concentrated on the new life that was waiting for him out in California. His mother’s boutique was making a steady profit, and between that and what he’d be able to send her each month, his two sisters would make it through college. He was a free man!

The phone rang. Nick sent it a frown. He had a pretty good idea who it was. The smart thing to do was let it ring, let his answering machine pick it up. But he reached for it all the same. “Romano here.”

“You didn’t let me introduce myself. I’m Tyler Sheridan.”

Nick heard the warning bell ringing in the back of his mind. “So?”

“My grandmother was Isabelle Sheridan of Sheridan Trust in Boston. You did some work for her. She said I could trust you. I have a letter of introduction in my purse.”

Nick scowled first at the phone, then at the door. Why in hell had he left it open? Turning, he glared at the couch. If he hadn’t fallen asleep—

“Mr. Romano, are you still there?”

“Yeah.” A few hours later and he wouldn’t have been. He’d have missed Miss Tyler Sheridan completely. Why was it that today of all days, the past had to reach out and grab him?

“Could you please let me in? My business is private.”

Hanging up the phone, Nick walked to the door. The fact that she was Isabelle Sheridan’s granddaughter changed nothing, he told himself. The promise he’d made had concerned the old lady. Any obligation had ended when she’d died. Opening the door, he said, “I was sorry to hear about your grandmother’s death.”

“Thank you.”

She moved past him quickly, but not before he’d seen the pain flash into her eyes. Isabelle had died six months ago, but this woman was still grieving. With a silent sigh, Nick closed the door. He knew how hard it was to lose family.

“How much should I make the check out for?”

“Forget about the check.” Even as he said the words, he discovered that it was much easier to refuse the spoiled rich girl than the woman who’d lost her grandmother. He’d read about Isabelle Sheridan’s sudden death in the papers. And he’d also glanced through several profiles written about the young woman who was standing before him, the woman Isabelle had personally groomed to take her place at the head of a multibillion-dollar investment firm. Only, the old lady hadn’t planned on dying so soon, because Tyler Sheridan looked much too young for the job. “Look, I’m not in the PI business anymore. I have a new job in L.A that starts next week. The best I can do for you is escort you to my cousin Sam’s office and personally introduce you. He’s the best—”

“I want you. My grandmother said in an emergency to use you—no one else. I can’t afford to share any of this with a stranger.”

“Why don’t you use the security firm in Boston that your grandmother used?” Nick asked.

“Because my business is…personal, and my—This problem is here in Manhattan.”

Her voice had tightened slightly, and her knuckles had turned white where they were gripping her purse. Those were the only signs that beneath that cool, unflappable exterior, she was wound tight. Contrasts had always intrigued him. Once again Nick fought against his weakening resolve. “Let me see if I can guess. You want me to tail your boyfriend and see if he’s cheating on you?”

Two bright spots of color stained her cheeks. “I’m not going to discuss the case until you agree to take it.” Then suddenly her eyes widened. “That can’t be the only kind of work you do. I’m sure that’s not the kind of work you did for my grandmother—”

He saw the flash of doubt in her eyes and the curiosity.

“Was it?”

“I never talk about any of my client’s cases.”

After a second, she nodded. “Good. Okay. I have to trust you not to talk about mine.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. She might be young, but he was beginning to see how effectively she might operate in a board room, and he wished he didn’t admire her for it. “I haven’t agreed to take your case.”

Tyler met his eyes steadily. “Will you?”

“You’re as stubborn as your grandmother.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He grinned grudgingly. “She would have, too.”

Once again, he saw pain in her eyes, and his curiosity increased. “You mentioned a letter of introduction?”

Unsnapping her purse, she extracted it and handed it to him. Nick regretted asking for it the moment he read it: “‘Nicholas, if you read this, then it means that I am no longer here and my granddaughter needs your help. Your promise to your uncle ended with my death, but listen to what she has to say and don’t judge her by my mistakes. Belle.”’

“Damn!” He glanced up in time to see the corners of her mouth twitch. “Something funny?”

“No. My grandmother’s missives are seldom funny. ‘Damn’ usually sums them up quite well.”

He studied her for a moment, knowing that his decision had already been made. “I’ll take the case on one condition—if I can’t wind everything up by Tuesday, you’ll let me refer you to my cousin. I’m flying to L.A. on Wednesday morning.”

Tyler hesitated for a moment.

“Take it or leave it,” Nick said.

“Agreed.”

He walked to his desk and sat down on the corner. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

“I’m getting married next Saturday, and my fiancé has disappeared. I want you to find him.”

For a second, Nick said nothing. She was the coolest looking jilted bride he’d ever seen. He watched her as she unsnapped her purse.

“The last time I heard from him—”

“Wait. I can save us both some time here. If your bridegroom has bolted, don’t waste your money. Just let him go.”

Her eyes snapped up to his and narrowed. “I didn’t come here for advice. And he’s my fiancé. He won’t be my bridegroom until next Saturday.”

Nick waved a hand. “Fiancé, bridegroom. We could sit around and debate word choice all day but—” he lifted the clock off his filing cabinet “—the clock is ticking.”

“That one isn’t,” she pointed out.

Nick glanced down at it and frowned. “Damn. I forgot the electricity was turned off. No wonder it didn’t go off. If it had, you’d have missed me completely.”

“Must be my lucky day,” Tyler said.

Nick glanced at her. “Good one.” No, she definitely wasn’t a defenseless puppy. And he was becoming certain she wasn’t simply the spoiled rich girl he’d thought at first. That intrigued him even more than the fabulous legs. With some effort, he kept himself from looking at them again. “Okay, back to the missing bridegroom.”

“Fiancé. Words are important. I like to use them accurately.”

“Believe me, sugar, any man who is within a week of his wedding has started to think of himself as a groom. He can picture himself in that monkey suit, the tie cutting off his oxygen supply, and that ball and chain rolling inexorably toward him, ready to snap its jaws tight around his ankle. If your husband-to-be is missing, it’s more likely than not he’s got a classic case of cold feet and taken a powder. And with the divorce rate the way it is today, you don’t need a bridegroom who’s having second thoughts.”

Tyler strode toward him until they were standing toe to toe. “And I don’t need to hire a PI who’s going to waste my time. Is that all they taught you in detective school—to jump to conclusions and argue?”

“Jeez,” Nick said, putting a hand over his heart, “you really know how to hurt a guy.”

Tyler’s chin lifted. “My grandmother said you could be trusted. She didn’t say you were any good. Are you?”

“Sugar, I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes.” Reaching quickly, he snagged her hand. When she tried to pull away, he held tight. “That was a pretty direct challenge. Bear with me for a moment. This is your engagement ring?”

“Yes.”

“He chose it, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“No, don’t say another word. Let me show you what I learned in detective school. You would have chosen something a little smaller, more conservative, I think…perhaps something with a different stone in the setting, a sapphire to match your eyes.” He glanced up, saw that he had her attention, and went on. “The size of the stone tells me that he wanted to impress you or your family. That means the money he has is new, not the kind that’s been handed down to him. He wanted to make sure you knew he could measure up. He’s a little nervous about this wedding.” Nick paused, then asked, “How am I doing so far?”

“You’re guessing.”

Nick smiled. “Detectives have to make guesses. Good ones guess right. I’m also betting that he works in a business that your board of trustees would approve of—banking, the stock market…no, accounting. I’ll bet he’s an accountant.”

Her eyes widened. “How could you possibly know that?”

“From you. Seems to me that’s the type you’d go for, someone who would know all the facts, figures, the bottom line. Someone who could make everything add up right, just the way you add up nice and neat until I get to your eyes.”