An Affair Across Times Square

by Rachell Nicole

“This is the most amazing time I’ve had in I don’t even know how long.” His whispered words were gentle, truthful.

  She kissed her way up his chest to his mouth. He held her close as she explored him with her tongue, trying to memorize the taste of him. Knowing she would have to let him go soon.

  “Me too,” she murmured when she broke the kiss. She slipped off him and glanced at the clock. She didn’t have to keep regular business hours just yet, but she’d have to be in by one. And he’d have to be to work much earlier than that. When he climbed back into bed after getting cleaned up, he got under the covers. She did the same. Without another word, he kissed her good night. She smiled and snuggled against him, loving the feel of his arms around her as she fell asleep. If only she knew he would always appreciate the crazy in her life and not tire of it like everyone else had, she might just consider keeping him until the other side of forever.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tyler woke to the most beautiful sound—the sweet snore of an amazing woman. He smiled down at her and stopped his watch from beeping. She’d gotten even closer to him in her sleep, so he took his time and carefully extracted himself from her warm embrace. She mumbled something incoherent and pulled the blankets closer around her when he slipped from the bed.

  He took a moment to watch her sleep. She looked so calm. So unlike her awake self, where he could always see the wildness just beneath the surface in her eyes—a look that made him think she’d run away to Vegas or Atlantic City or, hell, even Paris on a Friday afternoon just to get married. He let himself take that thought way too far and had to shake it off. He turned from her and ran to take a quick shower, trying to erase the thought of her in a wedding dress from his mind.

  He knew very little about her, except that she was incredible and she’d lost at least one person in her life with whom she’d been close. She was a great listener and an amazing lover, and she befriended people some would have considered below her. She didn’t take her money for granted and didn’t feel entitled to travel the world loafing about and spending Mommy’s money.

  He tried to think what he could do in the next twenty-four hours to convince her to stay or to at least give him a number so he could reach her after she left. A promise that she would return to New York at some point in the near future. Something. His mother would have said he needed another big gesture, though he figured this one would have to be small in stature and large in meaning. Something to convince her he was worth sticking around for. He could see himself fighting dirty for this one, trying to keep her any way he could.

  He dried and pulled on his clothes and couldn’t resist giving her a quick kiss on the forehead before writing her a note and placing it on the pillow beside her. He didn’t have his briefcase, but most of his files were copied at the office. He wouldn’t need anything from home that he didn’t have access to during the day, so he left for work with a lightness in his chest he hadn’t felt in more years than he cared to count.

  He worked for several hours in silence at the office, the songs in his head keeping him company. And then the call from Paulson came in.

  “It was this m-m-man’s voice,” Paulson said by way of greeting. “Deep, gravelly. Out-outside the t-tent. A v-voice I’ve heard before but d-don’t know where. The voice. Slight lisp. From Manhattan, without a doubt.”

  “Okay, that’s good. That’s very good. What did he say?” Tyler couldn’t stop a glance across the street, even though this news could be vital to their win.

  “Something about a debt to be paid. About how angry the other person’s father would be i-i-if whoever was on the other end didn’t g-give him what he w-wanted. I didn’t h-h-hear another voice. Probably on the ph-phone. I don’t know if it’s connected w-with the murder or not, but you w-wanted to know if I r-remembered anything. I remembered this. His v-voice. I remembered this.”

  “No, this is good. Do you recall what time this happened or anything else about the conversation?” Tyler took notes as they spoke, writing down everything Paulson said verbatim, sans the stutters. He wrote the repetitions, though. Paulson fixated on those parts for a reason. It might be useful later. Jury selection started soon.

  “Ten o’clock. And he was quiet. He was quiet. But mad, like scolding a child. He wanted whoever was there to meet him. I-in the park, I th-think.”

  “Good. I’ll pull all the police reports of anyone canvassed who may have been around the park at that time. See if I can pull cell phone records of anyone who spoke with the police. Hang in there, okay? We should be getting some more information soon on how long jury selection will take, and then we’ll start going through your testimony. They’re going to try to discredit you any way they can, especially for those four hours you were sleeping. They will claim you could not have slept through what the prosecuting key witness will explain was a noisy, brutal murder.”

  “It was brutal. Brutal. But it w-was-wasn’t me.”

  “I know.” Tyler thrummed the pencil in his hand against the legal pad. “I know. Don’t worry. We’re going to get you out of there.” He shouldn’t promise that. He couldn’t, not legally, but damn if his conscience didn’t beg him to say the words. How much longer could Paulson hold out in prison? They were keeping him out of general population, after Tyler had fought for him to be separated. But even without the rest of the prisoners, he didn’t know if Paulson had it in him to stand trial and survive appeals if Tyler couldn’t get the jury to see his innocence.

  “Th-that’s all I remember.”

  “Okay, that’s okay. That should give me something else to look into. I’ll notify you of any new developments.” God, he was tired of saying that. This man’s life hung in the balance. Depended on the firm’s ability to prove his innocence. On Tyler’s ability to do so. Paulson didn’t bother to say good-bye but cut the connection. So who the hell was the man who’d been speaking in hushed tones an hour, two at most, before Jeannie Rose had been killed?

  He pulled the notes on the police canvasses and started leafing through them. He set aside all the men who had given statements. Chances weren’t great that one of them was the man Paulson had heard speaking, because the interviews had taken place hours later. But at least he had somewhere else to start. He called in two legal aides to help him go through the statements and see if anyone talked about phone conversations they’d had or overheard.

  By noon, he could no longer curb the urge to run back across the street and see if Ms. Marietta waited for him, still naked in bed. He didn’t want to call, for fear she would tell him not to come home. Back, he corrected himself. A hotel wasn’t home. Even if it had been her apartment, it would not be his home. He had to get that thought right out of his head.

  Consider the record stricken.

  “Okay, guys, let’s take lunch.”

  The two aides and other junior lawyer looked at him like he’d gone crazy, and perhaps he had. But he was starting to see double on the testimonies. There was nothing wrong with a quick one-hour…uh, lunch. He tried to corral his thoughts and failed. Again. So he smiled at them across the table in the conference room where they’d moved.

  “Sorry, everyone. I just need a break from looking at these. Hopefully shake something loose. Let’s take an hour and come back with fresh eyes. I know we might not find something solid, but we have to give it a real thorough look. And we cannot be thorough after three hours without a break. Thus, break time. Leave stuff here. We’ll just lock the door.” He stood, and they followed him into the hallway. He closed and locked the door behind him, then turned to find Williams.

  “Hey, Lachlan. How’s the review going?”

  “Nothing yet, and everybody looked like they could use a break, so we’re going to take lunch and come back and go through it all again this afternoon. Wish Paulson had been able to give this information to the cops at the beginning. They maybe could have questioned some of the witnesses again.”

  Williams shrugged. “Like it would have mattered. You know as well as I th
at they’ve been stonewalling our client from the get-go.”

  True, but the way Williams said it, as if it were enough of a defense in and of itself, grated on his nerves. Williams thought their client was guilty. He didn’t care one way or the other, and he certainly didn’t care about Paulson or the way society had marginalized him, or even the way the district attorney was so bloodthirsty on this case. Williams would defend him anyway, hoping to win the case on a technicality. What would have happened to his dad if he’d had Malcolm, Johnson, and Klein defending him?

  “Yes, I know. But in all seriousness, I must get out of this office for the next fifty-five minutes, or I am liable to go crazy.” Crazier, he added in his head, as he was already “off his rocker.”

  “Of course.” Williams nodded and continued down the hall. “Enjoy your lunch hour,” he called back as he walked.

  What does that mean? The words sounded like a challenge, with a distinct sneer beneath them. But he didn’t want to worry about that now. All he wanted to worry about for the next fifty minutes was whether Ms. Marietta wanted him again. He didn’t know how he would spend his hour if it turned out she’d gone to work.

  He took the elevator to the street level and jogged across the square, barely stopping himself from an all-out run through traffic. He slowed to a brisk walk as he came into the hotel, anticipation pulling his nerves tight.

  “I knew it.”

  Tyler froze in place, his brain misfiring. Williams had followed him, and he hadn’t even noticed. He twirled to face the other man, pushing his features into a mask of confused disdain.

  “Williams, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I knew you’d seen that woman in the window.”

  “What are you talking about, man? You sure you’re not also in need of a lunch hour or two?” He refused to back down, admit anything.

  “That’s why you were in the office so much this weekend. You’re having some kind of thing with a woman here. She was half-naked for you before her window that night.”

  “I assure you, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I came over for a burger and a scotch, not some woman, and I’m not sure what night you’re referring to. I was in the office all weekend, working on this case.”

  “Yeah, and late Saturday morning? When I walked in, you didn’t have any work on your desk.”

  If anyone else had been questioning him, Tyler would have blown him off. But Williams was good at not letting things go.

  “I was about to leave for a lunch break. I’d just picked up all of the files from the floor, after spreading them out to see the big picture.” He omitted the fact that he’d been naked at the time, of course. “Why don’t you join me for lunch, and we can talk about whatever is bothering you?” Williams was still his supervisor, damn him. Tyler had to at least attempt to smooth things over.

  Williams narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to drop this without a fight. Tyler could tell. Guess there would be no seeing Ms. Marietta on his lunch hour to get him through the day after all.

  “Look, I’m starved, and I need to get some food. You want to join me, your choice. But I’m done standing here for the cross-examination. I’ve had enough, thanks.” He turned his back and headed toward the elevator bank that would take them up to the restaurant. Good thing he knew how to get there. He pushed the buttons to call the elevator and moved to the G bank. Williams stayed right beside him, and he fought the urge to punch something. He wouldn’t even get to enjoy a burger in peace. They waited in silence until the elevator came and then got on.

  When they reached the floor and he stepped out by the reception desk, Eddie caught his eye. Shit on a shingle. If that kid blew this “I know nothing” stance, Tyler would have no other choice but to kill him.

  * * * *

  Layla peeked out the window, wondering what Tyler was doing this morning. His office had been empty since she first looked. She picked up his note and read it again.

  My dearest Ms. Marietta,

  I still do not know your name, but as my sister would say, c’est pas grave (no biggie). Because, believe it or not, I know you. And since I know you, I know that it is probably foolish of me to say such a thing, that it will more than likely scare you into running out of town even sooner, but it needed saying. I’d love to see you again tonight and have a chance to try to convince you of all the reasons you should blow off whatever it is that’s pulling you back to the West Coast and stay in New York with me, at least for a while. (Again, I know you’re probably reading this right now from the plane, but I sincerely hope you’re not.)

  If I get a moment, I’ll call you at lunch, and I’ll be looking through the window. I hope it will still be you on the other side of that pane of glass. Thank you for breaking your rules for me.

  Yours,

  Mr. Times Square

  Her eyes misted at the longest, most heartfelt morning-after note she’d ever gotten. Usually they consisted of “Coffee’s in the fridge, babe. Lock up before you leave.” She smiled at the letter, terrified and yet thrilled that he did know her enough to know that she wanted to be reading the letter from a plane. Or in this case, another hotel room, because work prevented her from fleeing the city. But there she stood, on the other side of the curtain, looking out for the dozenth time to see if he sat in his office.

  Well, enough of this crap. She pulled her shoes on and left her room, determined to kill the next hour or two doing something of interest in the hotel before work. She couldn’t stand the idea of going in to the office early. Not after the way she’d left things with Brian. But she knew she’d have to face him eventually. It would be good to do it while she also had a lot of pressing work to help her escape the awkwardness. For a day or two, anyway.

  She waited for the elevator to take her down to reception. Some lunch in the back room with a few employees always made for a good time. It would help get her head screwed on straight. But as soon as she stepped off the elevator, she saw him. Mr. Times Square sat not in his office but rather at a table in the restaurant with that blond guy she’d seen.

  She stood stunned for a moment, and then Eddie grabbed her arm, whisking her behind the reception desk and into the manager’s office. He nodded at Barney and then looked at her. She’d never seen his eyebrows so low or his mouth in such a straight line.

  Uh-oh.

  “I’m sorry, Barney. Could we have the office for a few minutes, please?”

  The man was up and moving before she’d finished her sentence. “Of course, Ms. Morgan. Whatever you’d like.”

  She nodded and waited until the door clicked closed before she turned on Eddie.

  “What gives?”

  “Tyler is getting questioned by some guy who might very well be his boss about why he was spending so much time in the office if he wasn’t playing Peeping Tom with the woman across the street.”

  “Shit.” She sank into a chair, putting her head in her hands. Well, it had happened. She’d once again pushed things too far, too crazy, too much. And gotten him in trouble with his boss. How the hell could she fix this? She couldn’t just run and leave him alone to deal with the fallout, but every time she tried to clean up after her messes, she made them worse. Like the time she’d tried to apologize to Dickhead’s wife. That had been a disaster of epic proportions. She pulled her focus back to her current problem.

  “Shit, indeed. They’ve been here half an hour already, and I don’t see this guy ever being able to let go.”

  She had to think of something, and quick. “He saw me in the window one night. At least I thought he had. I’m not sure how much of a look he got, because I slapped the curtains closed as fast as I could. But if I go over there now and he recognizes me, it’ll just make things worse.”

  Work, brain, work. She looked down at her clothes. Business attire. She grabbed a pair of glasses and a clipboard off the table, an idea forming. She wouldn’t look anything like herself behind the glasses and with her hair pulled up. She filled Edd
ie in on the plan.

  “My girl, you are a genius. You’ve thought of everything.”

  “Yes, and then I’m going to fire you.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “I want a big enough scene so that creep stops asking him questions.”

  “Jeez, girl, you’ve fallen face-first, and hard.”

  “I know,” she said before she could stop herself. She had it bad for Mr. Times Square, and she’d be damned if she was going to sit by and watch it all go up in flames because she’d invented some stupid rules to protect them. If he’d been in her room that night instead of across the street, this wouldn’t be happening. Eddie looked as shocked as she felt at the declaration that she was in serious trouble of falling hard for this man.

  She nodded. “Showtime.”

  She marched out of the room, with him right on her heels. She looked down at the clipboard. “Yes, well, restaurants are next. We’ll start with this one.” She waltzed into the Emerald Lunch Café like she owned the place and how dare anyone question her. She’d always liked this smallest of the hotel’s restaurants for its comfy green booths and bank of windows that let in all the natural light. But today, channeling her mother made her a bit queasy. For Tyler, though, she’d do it. She’d be the center of everyone’s attention and cause the biggest scene any of them had witnessed.

  For him.

  She forced herself not to glance anywhere near Tyler’s table. If her mother heard about this, she would be in serious trouble. But she didn’t care.

  “Yes, well, Ms. Hall, are you sure you must see the restaurants on your first day of inspection?” Eddie stumbled over his words. “You’ll be here all week. Maybe day one might be better spent reviewing HR?”

  She turned on her friend, fire practically spitting from her mouth as she acted indignant. “Excuse me? I will do my inspection the way I see fit, and you will do nothing more than stand by and answer questions. Speaking of which, would you care to tell me why renovations on floors fifteen to twenty lasted through the entire weekend on the Times Square side? Deplorable. Those rooms should have been opened for guests.”