The man had contacts everywhere, it seemed—from a good buddy who just happened to head up security at the Plaza Hotel where she was staying, to an ex-girlfriend who had a contact at Attitudes Magazine where the personal ad had run.
She continued to study him as he shoved the phone in his pocket and began to chat with the woman running the vending cart. Richard would never take the time to do that. Nor would he ever have considered lunching on hot dogs in Central Park.
The two men were so different. Richard was meticulously groomed and very selective about his wardrobe, while Nick’s approach to both seemed haphazard, reckless even. Her gaze dropped to the jeans he’d pulled on, which were fraying at several strategic spots. Recklessness was something she’d avoided all of her life. That thought was still on her mind when she glanced up and met his eyes. For one full moment, she felt the same way she had in his office. The children’s laughter, the pungent smell of the animals, the sounds of the traffic—everything around her seemed to fade. All she could think of was him.
No, she thought as the quick skip of panic moved through her. She could not possibly be attracted to this man. He wasn’t her type. Richard was. And Richard would be good for her, she told herself again. His gaze slipped away from her then, as he pulled out her cell phone. A second later, he was gesturing dramatically with his hands.
Tyler drew in a deep breath and let it out. But she didn’t feel the relief she wanted. What was it about Nick Romano that he could pull a response from her she couldn’t control? If she was going to work with him, she would have to figure it out.
At the back of her mind the old questions hammered. Had her grandmother been right? Was Tyler her mother’s daughter, after all? Isabelle had always told her she had to fight against the passionate side of her nature that she’d inherited from her mother. And passion had definitely ruled Claudia. Otherwise, why would she have married again barely a year after Tyler’s father had died? And why would she have left Tyler with Isabelle, then flitted from one husband to the next?
Drawing in a deep breath, Tyler pushed the questions away. She wasn’t going to let the old self-doubts creep in. And she would figure out a way to handle Nick Romano…and find Richard.
Turning back to the polar bear, she made herself focus on the dive—down to the glass, then back to the surface; down to the glass, back to the surface. Gradually, the rhythm of the movements soothed her. She imagined herself diving with him, feeling the coolness of the water slipping over her skin, then hit the solid barrier of glass. Was he hoping to escape? Did he believe that perhaps this time it would give and he would be free?
“Well, what do you think of the Central Park Zoo’s main attraction?” Nick asked as he joined her.
“I think they should take him back to the North Pole and set him free,” she said without hesitation.
Nick studied her for a moment. “You surprise me, sugar. If it makes you feel any better, he probably wouldn’t survive if they did.”
He was carrying a loaded paper tray, and she grabbed for the napkins as they began to blow away. “Nobody should be trapped like that.”
“A few years ago, he might have agreed with you. All he used to do was repeat that dive, over and over and over. The zoo people finally called in a psychiatrist.”
Tyler looked at him. “You’re joking.”
“Absolutely not.” He nudged her toward a bench. “The big fella was diagnosed with one of those obsessive compulsive disorders. I swear,” he assured her when she shot him a skeptical look. “If I’m lying, may I never take a bite of my mama’s cooking again.”
“Can your mother cook?” asked Tyler as she sat down.
“Ouch. It’s a good thing I have a thick skin. I would never lie about my mother’s cooking.”
“All right. I’ll bite. What did the psychiatrist say?”
“Claimed our polar bear needed companionship,” Nick said as he joined her on the bench. “So they got him a girlfriend, and the big fella no longer devotes all of his time to diving.”
Tyler looked back at the exhibit. “It’s still a trap. The only difference is that two of them are in it now.”
Nick shook his head sadly. “A bride eight days away from her wedding, and she doesn’t believe in romance.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” Tyler insisted. “I just don’t believe in getting carried away by it.”
“Where’s the fun if you don’t get carried away a little?” Nick asked, then held out the tray. “Dig in. Yours is the naked one. Beats me how you can bear to eat a hot dog that way.”
“It’s an old habit.”
“Time to break it. The best thing about a hot dog is the toppings.” As he bit into his, chili splatted onto his jeans.
A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it. “Sorry,” she said, as he used a napkin to dab at his knee. “That’s why I eat them plain. Otherwise…” She glanced up and found her face close to his, their eyes and lips perfectly aligned. The rest of her thought slipped away as something moved through her to her very core, then tugged. It was what she’d felt before, when he’d been holding her hand in his office, and it took all of her control not to jerk herself back out of range. Slowly, carefully, she straightened.
“Otherwise…?” Nick prompted.
“Disaster,” she murmured as her fingers began to tingle.
“Disaster is a pretty strong word for a little spilled chili.”
Tyler forced her mind back to what they’d been talking about. “I’d never spill just a little. I’d be a mess.”
“It’s hard to imagine you any way but perfectly neat and tidy,” Nick said.
She smiled. “You should have seen me when I was younger. My grandmother would take me to a Red Sox game every summer when I would come to visit. By the seventh inning, I’d have more mustard and ketchup on me than there was on the hot dog. Then she’d lecture me on how Sheridans never spilled their food and never, ever appeared in public without being perfectly groomed. It was either give up the toppings or the Red Sox.”
“I’d have given up the Red Sox.”
Surprised, she looked at him.
“Now,” he continued, “if it was a choice between a chili dog and the Yankees, that would be a different story. Here—” He offered her his chili dog. “You’re a big girl now. Live dangerously.”
She found it was impossible to resist the challenge in his eyes. Leaning forward, she took a bite and savored the explosion of flavors on her tongue. “Mmm. Wonderful.”
“There you go,” Nick said. “You’ve sampled the forbidden and you’re none the worse for it. I’d say you’re pretty mess proof. In fact, you remind me of one of Hitchcock’s heroines. Even when they were whipping around in convertibles, their hair never got windblown.”
Tyler gave him a level look. “That’s because those scenes were shot in a studio. The cars never moved.”
“Safer, I suppose, but not nearly as satisfying.” Reaching over, he fingered the gold loop on her ear. “Wouldn’t you rather take a real ride in a very fast car?”
“No.” Not until now. Tyler frowned as the thought moved through her mind. It was as traitorous as the feeling that had moved through her when he’d touched her earring. And it wasn’t even true. She had her life just the way she wanted it. She didn’t want