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 rides in fast cars. And she didn’t want the feelings that Nick Romano could trigger in her. “That’s not who I am. That’s not how I’ve achieved what I have. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am at Sheridan Trust. It means everything to me.”
Nick studied her for a minute. “It’s got to be hard filling your grandmother’s shoes. Even if she thought you could do it, I imagine there are some who doubt her judgment.”
At the understanding she saw in his eyes, panic moved through her. “Maybe you are a good detective,” Tyler said.
Nick sighed and shook his head. “I can see it’s going to be an uphill battle trying to impress you.”
“Believe it,” she said as she bit into her hot dog. For a few minutes they ate in silence. Tyler tried to ignore that hers tasted bland. Over the years, she’d schooled herself not to notice that. Swallowing, she wrapped what remained in a napkin and took a sip of her bottled water. “Did you find out if Richard placed the want ad?”
“It’s hard to say,” Nick said around a mouthful of chili dog. “According to the records, Richard placed the earlier ads over the phone with a credit card. The man who placed the one in this issue came to the magazine’s offices in person and paid cash. The girl who took the ad couldn’t recall much about his appearance. Medium height, medium build, brown hair.”
“That could be Richard.”
“And about one-third of all the other men who live in Manhattan, not to mention the tourists. The thing she was most sure about was that she took the ad on Monday. That was the deadline for placing anything in this month’s issue. The arrangements with the messenger service were made yesterday. That’s when the magazine gets mailed to subscribers.”
Tyler frowned. “But if he placed the ad Monday, then he knew four days ago that he was going to disappear.”
“Yeah.
