Otherwise Engaged. Cara Summers

look she shot him was pure ice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      Grinning, Nick shrugged. “Just ‘ah.”’ We detectives say it a lot. It’s our most frequently used expression after ‘aha!”’

      “This the place?” the driver asked as he rammed the taxi into the curb.

      Tyler glanced out the window. “Yes.” Raising a hand to automatically smooth her hair, she suddenly remembered that it was down, and that the pins were scattered somewhere on a path in Central Park. “Wait. I can’t go in there looking like this.”

      “You look fine to me.”

      “I look like a ragamuffin.” Unsnapping her purse, she drew out a brush.

      “Here, let me,” Nick said, taking it from her. “Turn around.”

      “No, I can—”

      “It’ll save time. You can check your makeup while I take care of this.”

      For one second, Tyler weighed her options. Wrestling with Nick Romano for her hairbrush or giving in and preserving her dignity. She did what a true Sheridan would do and turned to dig in her purse for her compact.

      “I’ve got two younger sisters,” Nick said as he drew the brush through her hair. “For years my mom and I had to get them ready for church on Sunday….”

      Whatever he was saying had become an unrecognizable buzz of sound in Tyler’s ears. It had been a mistake to allow him to touch her. And she’d only made it worse by opening her compact. Because now she could see as well as feel his hands on her. She discovered it was incredibly erotic to watch his fingers move from where they rested lightly on her shoulder to draw her hair back over her ear, then brush across the nape of her neck. The flames started there, then fanned out quickly until her blood turned thick and warm. An image filled her mind of those fingers stroking softly, surely, all over her body. Her nerve endings began to throb with just the thought of it, and it was all she could do not to lean back against him. She wasn’t aware of letting the compact slip through her fingers, only of the sudden weight when it landed on her lap.

      “You two done back there?” the driver asked, twisting in his seat. “I got another fare waving at me on the corner.”

      Tyler snatched up her compact, shoved it into her purse and pushed open the door of the taxi. Only by summoning up all her control did she prevent herself from running into the lobby of the glass-and-steel building. Instead, she pushed through the revolving door, then cut a neat path through the crowd of conservatively dressed men and women milling around her, while she tried to gather her thoughts.