“Do you have a hanger I can use?” Was it too much to presume he’d be spending the night? Probably. Did it stop him from hoping? Not in the slightest. She had a bemused smirk on her face. She knew what he was really asking.
“In the closet,” she said. Not a request to stay the night by normal standards, but he figured coming from her it was pretty much an engraved invitation. He slipped from her wandering hands. She seemed to have just as eager a desire to paw at him as he did her. He grabbed a hanger from the closet and went to pick up their clothes from the floor in the entryway. The soft beige carpet crunched under his toes as he walked out of the bedroom and into the entryway by the couch where they’d left the piled clothes. He picked them up and hung his suit.
She gave a soft whistle as he came back into the room. He smiled and shook his head, putting the suit in the closet. He held up her clothes.
“The bag in the bottom of the closet, please.”
He put them in the bag and turned back to face her. She’d crawled across the bed to grab a binder off the table and was spread in the most interesting position—on her hand and knees, one arm reaching out to get the binder. He ran over and snatched it from her hands.
“Oy,” she yelped.
He danced back away from her, then leaned toward her, holding the book behind his back. She looked at him, her gaze turning hot. She stalked him across the bed the rest of the way and then stood. He stayed frozen in place. Couldn’t move if he’d tried. She pressed her front up against him. Her taut nipples teased the soft hair on his chest. She stretched up to him and licked his ear.
And snatched the book right out of his hands.
She leaped back away from him, onto the bed, and bounced up and down. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. My God. She was so open. So exposed and beautiful before him, without a care in the world. She snickered at him. He hadn’t seen such pure joy on anybody’s face over the age of five. He wanted to bask in that feeling forever. If she could just hold on to that infantile joy and he could hold on to her, maybe everything would be okay in this world after all.
He pushed those thoughts away. She lived in California. He didn’t. Even after the case, the Innocence Project was based in New York. It would seriously inhibit the next two days if all he could think about was how much he wouldn’t want to say good-bye.
She stopped jumping and looked down at him, all serious now.
“I was going to order room service, but if you’d rather play keep-away, fine. No food for you.” She smiled sweetly.
He could so easily fall for her. She’d read his mind, and his stomach. He hadn’t been able to eat a thing that evening at home, worrying about what she would say if he grew a pair and called her.
“Their food is amazing. But the temptation of watching you jump around on that bed, naked, teasing me some more holds infinite possibilities.”
She plopped down onto the bed, pulling the phone closer.
“Well, I know what I want.” She tossed him the book.
He caught it between his hands and perused the room service menu. She picked up the phone and started placing an order. He flipped through the pages. There were so many choices, and he knew each would be fantastic. She looked up at him and tilted her head.
“Apple pie. And a bacon cheeseburger,” he added at her expression. She told the hotel staff what he wanted and hung up the phone.
“Fifteen minutes,” she said.
Hmm. That wasn’t enough time for much. Except…
He set down the menu and grabbed her hand, climbed onto the bed, and pulled her to her feet.
“I challenge you to a jump-off.”
She giggled, her eyes bright and dancing. “You might just be as crazy as I am. Or pretty damned close.”
“Life’s not as much fun if you’re not just a little bit insane.”
Her hand stilled in his. “My Aunt Marge used to say that. Except she used the expression ‘a little bit off your rocker’ instead.” Her smile wilted around the edges a bit, sadness coming into her eyes.
“Has she been gone long?” he said, moving closer.
She shook her head. “Fourteen months. And I sometimes find myself so excited to pick up the phone and tell her something new and amazing, and I have to stop myself. A few times I’ve even gotten as far as dialing the phone before I remember she won’t be there to pick it up.”
He pulled her closer, hoping a solid pair of arms would help ground her. “I don’t know exactly what that’s like. I’ve never lost someone who was so prevalent in my life I had to remind myself they were gone. Maybe it’s just because it’s been so long. Or maybe because my dad wasn’t there every day, even before…” Could he tell her this? She’d shared so much of herself already, but everyone always looked at him differently after. They didn’t believe that his father was innocent, and he got branded the offspring of a killer. He didn’t think he could bear to see that look in her eyes too.
“What happened to your dad?” she prompted, her arms just as solidly wrapped around him as his were around her. He shifted on his feet, the bed creaking beneath them. He couldn’t not tell her when she asked like that. But what if she felt just like everyone else he’d ever told? What if she turned away from him or gave him false sympathy?
“He went to prison when I was twelve. I knew he wasn’t guilty. My mom knew it too. But we couldn’t do anything to help him after he got convicted. I went to visit him for years. All the time. Every few weeks. And each time I stepped into the room and he saw me, it was like a kid seeing Disneyland for the first time. And every time I left, he looked like he was preparing to go to a funeral. He fought his case for ages. We tried to get the Innocence Project to take it on, but they said there wasn’t enough evidence. A few months before I turned eighteen, someone killed him in prison.”
“I’m so sorry.” The pain in her voice on his behalf melted him from the inside out. How could she care so much, be so willing to be pained for him? She amazed him.
“You didn’t ask what he’d been convicted of.” He’d buried his head in her shoulder. His voice came out a whisper.
“It doesn’t matter. You believe he wasn’t guilty. So it must be true.”
“It’s that simple for you, huh?” He pulled back to look at her. They would not be jumping on the bed in playful joy anytime soon. He’d completely killed that mood. But this was even better. This baring of souls. He’d never been ready to share this story so early with someone. It took him months to talk about his dad. He’d just tell his dates that he’d died years ago, and that would be it.
“I have no reason to doubt what you know, and you told me you knew he wasn’t guilty. That’s good enough for me.”
No one had ever believed him so easily before. He had to tell her the rest.
“Murder.”
She stiffened in his arms. Shit. He held his breath, waiting for what he knew would come next.
“Oh, Tyler, I’m so sorry. That must have been very hard for you as a kid.”
Oxygen rushed back into his body as he opened his mouth. “Everyone looked at me like I was the scumbag kid of a scumbag killer.”
She pulled back to look up at him. “Is this the look of someone who thinks you’re a scumbag?”
He shook his head. Compassion for him colored her eyes, none of it fake. And she didn’t close herself off or turn away from him at his admission. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever been with—the vapid ones who only wanted him because of his profession or the power-hungry lawyers he’d tried dating who could only see black and white. The ones who thought that just because his father had been convicted meant he was guilty.
“Our justice system gets a little screwed up sometimes. I’m so sorry you and your family fell victim to it.”
“I know. That’s why I—”
A knock on the door interrupted his next words. Which was probably just as well. He’d already broken most of her rules. He wanted to break the rest, but moving too fast might scare her off ag
ain, and he didn’t want that. She didn’t seem like a woman who relished following the rules, but she must have made them for a reason.
She let go of him, grabbed her robe off the bed, and put it on. Then she went into the outer room and closed the door. She wanted to hide him. Nope—he wouldn’t have that. He snatched a folded towel out of the bathroom and wrapped it around his hips. He turned the corner to find her embracing a man at the door. He paused for a heartbeat, then moved into the room, pretending he didn’t notice. He knew the guy couldn’t be anything other than a friend, just as he’d known his father wasn’t guilty. Then he realized there was a tray of covered platters on the trolley behind the man.
“Does that pie come hot or cold?” he said as he moved past the couch. She was hugging the bellboy. Could she be on a first-name basis with him too? Like with the cook?
He could see her shoulders stiffen beneath the silk of the robe. She held on tighter to the other man for a second and then let him go with a sigh. She kept her back to him as she whacked the bellboy upside his head.
“Whoa—what are you doing?” He took a step toward her. What the fuck?
She turned serious eyes toward him and then burst out laughing. “Oh, jeez. You probably think I’m bonkers.”
Uh, yeah. Pretty much. But he didn’t say that out loud.
“Eddie, put the food inside and come say hello.”
Eddie. As in the guy from the park? Eddie moved into the room, and Tyler looked more closely at his face and less at his clothes and the way he stood. Yes, definitely the same one. And the employee who had helped him set up their dinner. She saw him outside the hotel. Something definitely felt kind of hinky here.
Eddie wheeled the tray in, then took the platters and set them on the counter. He left them covered and turned to Tyler, sticking out his hand.
“Eduardo,” he said, sending a quick smirk to Ms. Marietta. Whose name he still didn’t know, for crying out loud. “I believe we met yesterday.”
“Tyler.”
They shook hands, and Eduardo burst into giggles. The other man’s gaze roamed over his body without the faintest hint of subtlety.
“All right, Eddie, you’ve had your fun. Now piss off.” She took a two-handed grab of his ass and steered him from the room. Before she got him out the door, he turned and winked at Tyler.
He heard her deep intake of breath before she turned around. “Sorry. I didn’t close the door to be rude. I was just trying to save you from Eddie.”
“I guess. Damn. He looked like he wanted to eat me in one bite.” It was flattering, but at the same time kind of creepy. He’d never seen that look on another man’s face before. Certainly not on one staring at him.
She laughed. “And he could. Thanks for being a good sport about it, though.”
“Hmm, so Eddie doesn’t warrant a tip?” He had to get to the bottom of this.
“He’ll just take it out of the account when I leave.”
“For a woman who lives across the country, you sure seem to have a home here.” The tightening around her eyes made him realize he shouldn’t have said that. He wanted to backtrack, but then she opened her mouth.
“I…do. My mother happens to be the CFO of Marietta International,” she said as she opened the covered platters. She leaned over them and inhaled, picking up his burger and helping herself to a bite while he stood there stunned.
Ms. Marietta, indeed. He had no idea how appropriate that name had been when he’d given it to her. She took the two trays and walked past him. “You could stop gawking anytime now.”
He forced his mouth to close, then grabbed the rest of the food and followed her. She went into the bedroom and put the plates down on the table.
“Sorry. It just wasn’t the answer I expected, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. We were based here in New York for a while when I was a kid. I grew up around a lot of the staff. This kind of became like home for me. Some of them still work here. Others are newer, like Eddie. But I know them. They’re a bit like family. They’re good to me. So if I come back to the city, I stay here.”
“How often are you here?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up. He shouldn’t, because he’d just end up disappointed. But he did it anyway.
She concentrated on the chicken Caesar salad she’d ordered. “Whenever I need to be here for work. It varies a lot.”
He knew she hadn’t told him everything, but he didn’t want to push. He’d gotten more than he’d ever thought he would from her in the past few hours. If her mother was the CFO, she didn’t have to work to survive. The fact that she worked regardless made him admire her even more. He hoped she put that time and energy to good use and did something she loved.
She leaned back against the headboard. “Are you going to eat?”
“Yes. Especially since I’m positive no one’s spit on my burger.” He climbed into bed next to her and grabbed it from the plate, taking a huge bite. He still only wore the towel, but he felt comfortable with that. She didn’t seem to mind much either.
She laughed. “So I guess Eddie didn’t properly introduce himself last night?”
He almost choked. She’d known who had helped him set up for their romantic dinner? He wondered if the kid had gotten in trouble for it. Probably not. She seemed good-natured enough about it, and things had gone very well for them.
“Right,” he said. “Well, I figured I wouldn’t throw him under the bus if you didn’t know.”
“I know. I would have known even if he hadn’t volunteered the information. I’ve known him ten years. He’s a good friend. Which is the only reason you got him to do anything about it. Anyone else in the hotel would have known that it was my room and had no clue who you were. You got very lucky you found Eddie.”
“Actually, as soon as I walked in, he approached me to ask if he could help.”
“That bugger,” she said, but she didn’t sound too upset. He ate another bite of the burger and turned to her.
“So I grew up in the city, but not in the middle of Times Square, not even in Manhattan,” he said. Jeez, what must it have been like for a kid to live in Manhattan? He figured it would be pretty incredible, but she didn’t seem too eager to spill the beans.
LAYLA ATE HER salad and listened to Tyler tell her more about his childhood. It hadn’t all been bad, thankfully. Losing his dad to prison at twelve and to murder six years later must have been terrible. Maybe she could offer to look at the case and give him the solid proof, the closure. But that meant staying in contact with him longer than she planned. She didn’t know if she could offer that. So instead she listened, eager to know more, even though she knew it was dangerous. Wanting more of him. Telling him more of herself.
He seemed almost as crazy as she was. He’d pulled her to her feet on the bed to jump up and down like twelve-year-olds. What grown man did things like that? She stole a glance at him. He’d been so good about not making her feel bad when she told him about the affair she’d inadvertently had. More than that, he’d seemed almost angry on her behalf. That didn’t happen very often. Not even Brian believed her.
Thinking of him made her remember how repulsed she’d been by his advances. How much she’d wished Tyler kissed her instead of her boss. And now she knew why. That man could kiss. With a capital K. It was one of those all-encompassing kisses, sweet and passionate and holding nothing back. A woman could lose herself in a kiss like that.
“So you’re very close to your mom as well as your sister?” she said. He hadn’t needed to say anything more about them for her to know that he loved them very much and considered it his job to take care of them, especially his sister.
“Yeah. Ma and I are real tight.” Every once in a while she could hear just a touch of his Brooklyn accent, but she didn’t ask him about it. He’d already shared so much with her, knowing her wild nature, knowing their time was limited, that she wouldn’t let him get any closer.
It was almost one a.m. before she opened the tray on her dessert.
Molten lava cake.
His eyes widened at the sight, and she laughed.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Want some?” she said, licking her bottom lip. Seducing him again seemed like a wonderful idea, though if she was honest with herself, lying there and talking to him sounded pretty freaking amazing too.
He leaped into action. He moved the trays away and took the chocolate from her. She tugged her robe off in anticipation, knowing just where he would go with chocolate. Knowing he would remember in vivid detail the way she’d licked it off herself the night before. He used a spoon to break the top of the cake and then dipped his finger in it. She lay back on propped-up pillows. He circled first one nipple with the still-warm chocolate and then the other. The heat made wetness pool in her groin.
He set the small plate on the tray beside him as he bent his head to her nipple, still looking into her eyes. He licked twice before he lowered his gaze to his task. With each thorough lick another thrill shot through her. He licked both nipples clean, then spread more chocolate over the curves of her breasts and stomach.
When he finished licking and nibbling every little bit off, she writhed, gasping his name. His fingers tunneled in her wet curls, and he brought her to bliss in under sixty seconds. She still quivered when he pulled her body atop his. She reached for a condom, and as soon as he was covered, she lowered herself in one quick thrust onto his shaft.
She rocked back and forth until his eyes clouded with desire, then moved her hips up and slid back down. She continued until they were both panting. He gripped her waist and held them both suspended on the edge, prolonging the delicious agony until she was ready to beg. Until she did beg. And finally he let her slam back down on him and helped her lift herself up and down again and again until all her muscles tensed and little spasms tore through her body. He shuddered his release beneath her.
She collapsed on top of him, resting her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her hair, sighing.
An Affair Across Times Square Page 14