“I knew you were a wild one, girl, but day-amn.”
She buried her head behind her knees, and the silk robe felt cool against her cheek. “I know. What was I thinking? Ugh. Oh, yeah, I know. I was thinking how I would not be the other woman again. How I would not seduce my pseudoboss. How I just needed a safe way to…to…”
“Get off?”
She lifted her head and punched him in the arm. “Yes, damn it.” Leave it to Eduardo to cut through all the bullshit.
He smiled at her, rubbing his arm where she’d punched him. Then he shrugged. “Going to a bar just seemed so elementary?”
She didn’t respond to that. How could she? She chose the stupider of those two options.
“So let’s go open the curtains,” he said.
“No,” she squealed.
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?”
“It flew out the window.” Okay, lousy pun, but it made them both laugh.
She had to either laugh or cry at the situation. She must be the dumbest woman in New York. Or at least the craziest. Her mother was right; she’d never be able to get it together. Eduardo looked like he might just get up and open the curtains. She would die of embarrassment.
“That’s it. I have to change rooms. Put me on the other side of the hotel, facing the complete opposite direction. I can’t stay here.” She wouldn’t. No freaking way.
“But I always make sure you’re on this side, with the view.”
“Eh, you know I don’t give a shit about the square. I hate this city.” She always had.
What am I going to do? She unclenched her fingers, letting the hot blood run back into them. If she couldn’t move rooms, she’d be too tempted. And then she’d be risking her carefully crafted professional and in-control persona, shattering any illusion of being a proper lady.
Eddie reached over and stroked her upper arm through the silk robe. “It’s going to be fine, sweetie. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you made that guy’s day. And it was better than blowing your boss, unless of course you want to be known as Monica. And you know very well that you’re not a slut.” Some days he read her mind.
“But…”
“But nothing. So c’mon. How was he?”
She looked up at him and smiled. She couldn’t help herself. But he took her smile as encouragement.
“I think I’m going to take a quick jaunt across the street and find out who your mystery voyeur is.”
“Don’t you dare.”
If she knew his identity, it would be too real. Too scary. He could stay her little secret. Well, hers and Eduardo’s. He had to.
“Fine, but I’m not changing your rooms. I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to. There’s a huge conference in town, and we’re booked solid.”
Stuck. Great. Could she keep herself from toying with Mr. Times Square if she stayed in this room? Did she even want to stop herself? He was so enticing, and that scared her. She didn’t know if she’d lusted so hard after anyone since Jason. Even the skittering of sexual awareness when she was near Brian didn’t compare to the way she’d felt with Mr. TS.
She looped her hair behind her ears.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
He smiled, tilting his head to the side. “Of course you can do this. But only if you want to.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll stay. But you better not interfere, or I swear to God, I’ll get you fired.”
It was an empty threat and they both knew it, but he nodded, still holding on to her upper arm. The warmth of his fingers through the white silk fabric steadied her.
“You got it, chica. No problem.”
He gave her a quick hug and walked toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle. “Oh, I did actually have a point to coming up here this morning.” He turned to her, and she knew the news he had to share wouldn’t be good.
“What is it?”
“There’s a board meeting Tuesday morning. I got told this morning they moved it from London to upstairs. But don’t worry. She attended last quarter’s meeting by video chat, sweetie. I don’t think your mom’s going to make a surprise appearance in New York just for a meeting. I’m not even sure what continent she’s on.”
Layla groaned. Yes, just what this trip to New York needed: a visit from her mother. No doubt she’d have a few things to say about her daughter the slut and her extracurricular activities with Mr. Times Square.
“I’ll let you know if the Wicked One will be gracing us with her presence, ’kay?”
She nodded.
Eddie blew her a kiss and dashed out, leaving her alone with her growing dread. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, she had to get to work. If Mr. Times Square kept his distance and didn’t get too close to the fires within her, he couldn’t get burned. And neither could she. It might be the perfect solution. A relationship, without any relationship-ness. Maybe Eddie was right; maybe she could have an affair across Times Square.
* * * *
Tyler slammed his hand down on the offending alarm clock.
“Shut up,” he grumbled, rolling out of bed. Four hours of nonsleep had really done his body good. He stretched and yawned and stumbled into the bathroom for a cold shower. God, the Marietta woman had haunted him all afternoon, all night, through the early hours of the morning. He pounded his fist into the ceramic wall of the shower. How could he have let her distract him so thoroughly? He couldn’t afford to be anything other than in top form. But as he slid the soap-lathered washcloth over his skin, his thoughts were consumed by images of the woman.
The way she’d stalked toward the window like a black panther, swinging her hips wide. The way her deft fingers had brought her from zero to bliss in three minutes flat. The way those fingers could do the same for him. She’d plagued his dreams, refusing to let him get a moment’s rest. He gripped his shaft hard, letting his mind open to all the torturous images he’d been trying to block out.
He saw her mouth open in a pant as she worked her hand between her thighs. He pictured her hot tongue licking the beads of sweat off his skin. Just thinking about her made him harder than any woman had ever made him in person. He worked his soapy fingers up and down, wishing it were her hand instead of his. He wondered what her moans of pleasure would sound like with him buried deep inside her.
She was a screamer. He could tell by the way she came, even from across the street, that she had screamed. He always loved it when a woman lost herself in abandon. When she wasn’t afraid of what anyone else thought, or ashamed at who might hear her enjoyment when her body was being loved. Ms. Marietta—that was what he would call her. A woman like that deserved a name, even if just a made-up one. And, oh, how he wished it was Ms. and not Mrs.
But he’d seen that man in her room and caught just a glimpse of her behind him, sitting in that chair.
Ms. Marietta would taste like ice cream. A cherry-dipped soft-serve vanilla in a waffle cone. He could almost taste her now. He imagined her lips enclosing his shaft as he worked both hands up and down, harder, faster. Just the way she’d like it. He’d be unable to take his time with her. She’d be too wild, too eager for more, and he’d be more than willing to acquiesce. He saw in his mind the way it could be between them. The way it should be. Until his panting rang loud in his ears and he groaned, coming with the perfect picture of that devilish smile in his mind.
Tyler finished his shower and dressed with quick movements, anticipation tight in his gut. He didn’t even know if she would still be there today. Or if her husband would be hanging about. How could he entertain the thought of continuing what she’d started yesterday if she was married? He didn’t remember seeing a ring on any of those deft fingers, but he hadn’t exactly been looking. He must have been crazy, because even though the thought deterred him from running across the street to find out who she was and properly introducing himself, it didn’t stop him from longing to see her again, if only from a distance.
He opened his closet doors, searching for just the right suit. Silly, but he did it just the same. He hadn’t been this excited to go to work ever. That prospect should have scared him more than it did, but he was too distracted to care. He took out a dark black suit, something to set off his chocolate skin. A black tie and a dark purple shirt completed his attempt at debonair. He’d be overdressed for a day at the office. He could maybe rock this suit in court, but the rest of the firm would give him odd looks all day. Of course, they’d really give him odd looks if someone walked into his office as he stripped in front of his window.
Tyler trimmed his goatee, being sure not to nick himself. Not that she’d be able to see that from across the square. He dressed and ate a quick breakfast and headed to the office at five a.m., hoping she was in her room when he arrived, knowing his office would be empty. Ms. Marietta would taunt him all day with those closed curtains of hers, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Chapter Five
Layla looked up from her desk to see Brian walking in the door. He must have been the only DA in the tristate area who got to work before nine a.m. And Brian came in hours before that. He said he liked the quiet of the morning, though she’d hoped in the past that it had also been because of her. Because she was a stupid masochistic idiot.
“Morning, Layla.”
“Hi, there. How’s it going?” Their voices were loud in the dark library. He always came down to greet her, even though his office was three floors up from the basement that held her temporary one. This morning he carried in a bag of Dunkin’ Donuts. He went out of his way to find a DD in the Starbucks capital of the world. Just for her. Oh, how she loved this man.
“Great. How’re those old files treating you?” He came closer, forking over the bag.
She took out a blueberry muffin and pulled off part of the crumble topping. She popped it into her mouth and smiled. “Thanks. The files are good. I know you’re looking for homeless person cases, but there haven’t been as many as you would think. It’s going to take a bit more digging.”
“Figured as much. Malcolm, Johnson, and Klein aren’t going to make it easy, but I’m sure one of their lower associates is taking this case. No one else handles pro bono over there. I’ve forgotten the kid’s name, though.” He shrugged his broad shoulder. “It’s going to be a hard case to win, but I can’t let that scumbag back on the streets. It’s not happening.” His thin red lips pressed into a line.
Apparently Brian was taking this case as personally as she was. Layla had known Jeannie Rose and her parents long before the young woman was a teenager. Layla’s mother had been good friends with Mayor Bob Wright since he’d been nothing more than a member on the city council. She was pretty sure Brian hadn’t met Jeannie until her father became the mayor. He’d probably been invited over to the house a few times since becoming the DA, and had been just as charmed by the twenty-year-old as Layla was. Which accounted for such conviction and dedication to this case.
Sometimes when Brian spoke of putting criminals away, it almost made her want to be in the courtroom with him when the case came to trial. But that would never happen. She’d rather spend the entire rest of her life living in New York City than set foot in another courtroom. She could help them nail that bastard from down here in the basement. And this one deserved it more than most. Layla remembered the first time she’d met Jeannie. The young girl had looked up to Layla, who was eight years older, and the two had become close.
Brian sat on the desk in front of her, his gold cuff links blinking in the light from the lamp. The man did love accessorizing, though silver was usually his preferred color, she remembered. The cuff links she’d bought him two years ago had been silver, just like the rest of the ones he wore, because she’d known he would like them, even though she knew she shouldn’t have bought her supervisor a Christmas present.
She stopped that train of thought. It didn’t do her any good to feel guilty about it now. She’d done it before she knew he was engaged. Before she realized what an idiotic move it had been to buy them in the first place. So who had gotten him gold ones? He wouldn’t have bought them on his own.
“So how’s Stephanie doing?” The past few weeks she always started conversations like this, to remind herself he was married. And expecting a child. To remind herself that she could never have him, no matter how sweet or good-looking he was. She would not ever cross that line again. This time she knew about the wife right from the start.
His face softened as it usually did when he spoke of his wife. “Good. Baby’s doing well too. She’ll be happy when he’s in his crib rather than in her belly, though, I think. It’s been extremely hard on her. On both of us.” He sounded so sad.
If they were closer, better friends, she would have reached out and taken his hand or rubbed his shoulder for comfort. But that broke Rule Number One when it came to keeping her distance from him—no touching. Not even casually. That had ended the minute he got engaged almost two years ago. She needed to get out of there and away from temptation.
So she nodded and moved back to put a file in a drawer instead. “I’m glad they’re both doing okay. I saw how rough it was on you three weeks ago when she was in the hospital. I’m sure it’s been hell.”
“He’ll be worth it, though. That’s what Stephanie keeps telling me, anyway.” He stood from her desk. “How much longer will you be here?”
“I’m getting ready to pack it in, actually. I have to wait for some calls on a file, so I’ll be coming in about noon instead of my normal six. And I’ll head home again around six tonight. Be back on my regular schedule tomorrow.” Anything to get her out of this office right this second. She still felt so on edge from her encounter the previous morning she couldn’t think straight. Hormones were wreaking havoc in her bloodstream. If she didn’t get away from this sweet, innocent man soon, she might just start throwing herself at him.
“Well, jeez. You better split, huh?” His bright white smile warmed her insides. His lightly tanned skin looked good against the crisp white of his shirt, and she had to stop herself from moving closer. It was such a contrast to the light on dark of Mr. Times Square. The thought gave her pause. What was she doing, thinking of him when Brian stood right in front of her?
But she latched on to the idea. Maybe it would do her some good to engage in a bit of recreational activity with the nonmarried and totally nonobject of her affections, Mr. TS. Give herself an infatuation to distract her for the coming weeks. Anything to keep her from trying to seduce Brian. Because she would not be some home-wrecking slut. She refused to prove her mother right.
“Yeah. I’ll see you later this afternoon.” She looked at her watch. Just past five a.m. That didn’t give her very much time to get home, eat, play around, nap, wake up, eat, and get back here by noon. She had to hurry.
“I’ll walk you up.” Brian turned and offered her his arm. She grabbed her shoulder bag in one hand and the Dunkin’ Donuts bag in the other to avoid touching him. She smiled at him, and he winked at her as she walked by. He closed the door behind her and rode in the elevator with her to the lobby. She got out, said her good-byes from a safe distance, and started home, still eating bits of her blueberry muffin.
As she hopped on the subway, she wondered what the day would bring now. She felt unsure as to how she would deal once back in her hotel room. What if Mr. TS was there? What if he wasn’t? Layla didn’t know which would be worse. He might be just what she needed. If she was honest with herself, he was definitely what she wanted.
She wanted that power. So she would just have to go home and get it. Decision made. It settled a strange kind of calm over her—knowing that she was going to go back to that hotel room and yank open the curtains. What happened after that was anybody’s guess. But she would enjoy it. Of that she was sure.
* * * *
Tyler thrummed his fingers against the railing in the elevator. He didn’t remember the ride to the eighteenth floor taking so
long the day before, or any of the days before that. But the extra time gave him a moment to clamp down on his panic. He’d started having second thoughts on his subway ride through the city. What kind of idiot looked forward to gawking at a half-naked woman across the street?
The ding of the elevator doors startled him. He looked around the deserted hallway leading to the offices of Malcolm, Johnson, and Klein, sure that he’d be caught. Though caught doing what, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if anyone who saw him now would think anything out of the ordinary—they weren’t privy to the pathway of his dirty thoughts. But he felt as if they were. He continued to check behind him as he walked to his office.
He closed the door without turning on the lights. After all, plenty of radioactive ambient glow shone in from the twenty-story jumbotrons and eight thousand camera flashes in the square. He stood in the middle of his office, his eyes fixed on the white curtains, waiting for them to open. Waiting for her. Like a pathetic puppy.
He flicked on his lights, wishing he could rearrange the entirety of his office in the opposite direction, facing the door instead of the window. But his coworkers would notice something was awry. He’d always loved the view of Times Square. And he’d worked a hell of a long time to get into an office just like this, even if he only intended to keep it temporarily. Ms. Marietta would not deprive him of something he’d always wanted. So he sat his sorry ass down in his desk chair and opened his laptop, refusing to look up again.
He glanced at the clock a whole five minutes later and couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering up to the window. Idiot. Tyler’s breath hitched in his throat. There she stood, dressed in a gray skirt and jacket set, a light-colored blouse beneath. She waved shyly at him. He found it difficult to reconcile this almost bashful woman he now saw with the brazen beauty of yesterday. He waved back. What else could he do? Pretend he didn’t see her? Not even close to an option.
He fought the urge to rise from his desk and move closer to the window. He stole a glance at the surrounding windows, wondering if someone else from the hotel could see him at the same moment. Most of the curtains were closed this early, guests still sound asleep away from the noise and lights of the city. His gaze met hers again, and his heart thudded in his ears. Could he actually do this? One look at her blooming smile told him he already was.
An Affair Across Times Square Page 3