An Affair Across Times Square

by Rachell Nicole

  “I’d like that very much.” She stuck out her hand, and they shook. “I’m Layla. It’s very nice to meet you. Sorry I was such a fucking idiot when you first showed up.” Oh, hell, she’d said “fuck.” She really was not cut out for this.

  “Yes, well, I guess that makes you a pretty damned good match for the fucking idiot sitting on your other side.”

  And just like that, Layla realized that maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad night after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “So has my son been dazzling you with Yankee statistics?” Angela asked.

  The approaching twilight made her glad she had a sweater on, even one that showed off so much cleavage. She shook her head and smiled her appreciation at the other woman. If Angela thought Layla was a slut, she hid it well.

  “No, he’s mostly just explained all the rules.” She jumped slightly when Tyler took her hand. She wasn’t used to such public displays of affection, especially around the parents. All the men she’d ever been with never touched her when they were at dinner parties or out for cocktails with their parents or friends.

  “This is her first game,” he said.

  “Oh, dear, and here I am distracting you from it. We’re already into the fourth inning.”

  Layla looked down at the field and over at the scoreboard. They were indeed. The Yankees were winning by two. They watched the game for a few minutes in silence, until the ball flew toward her and the crowd around her exploded into noise and movement. Tyler yanked her to her feet, then released her hand to snag a ball from the air, a few inches from her face.

  She yelped, and he turned to her, his eyes alight with joy and just a hint of something more. He pulled her into his arms and lifted her up. His full-body laugh warmed her from the inside out as the heat from his closeness took away all sense of a chill. He let her slide back to her feet, and the air between them felt charged. She looked up into his eyes, and he kissed her deep, his mouth open, tongue slipping inside to tangle with hers. Right in front of his mother. And the rest of the crowd, she realized as the cheers got even louder.

  She moved back from him, using her hand to put some physical distance between them. Angela cleared her throat behind her and pointed to the large screen on the opposite wall where their faces shone back at her. Tyler held up the ball triumphantly in one hand and hugged her close with the other one. She waved as heat flamed her face. God, if her mother were here… Good thing she never followed sports, and neither did her dad. Mom would have gone berserk at such a public display.

  She turned back to Tyler, and he handed her the ball. It was hard, heavier than she expected, and textured with laces. She held it a moment, then looked down at the field. She pulled back her arm and froze when everyone around her screamed, “No!”

  She clutched the ball, and Angela grabbed her wrist, guiding it back down to her side.

  “You hold tight to that one, dear. It’s yours to keep.” Angela winked at her, then looked above her head to Tyler and smiled. Layla felt like she missed some silent communication between those two, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Some guy behind them gave her a pat on the shoulder.

  “Congratulations,” he said.

  She smiled at him and sat down, still feeling thousands of eyes on her. She held the ball in her lap, wanting to keep feeling it under the pads of her fingers instead of putting it in her purse.

  “So they don’t need this to play anymore?”

  “Nope,” Tyler said. “They don’t take any ball back into play once it’s been touched by anyone who’s not a player. It’s officially a dead ball.”

  Oh. Should she feel guilty about that?

  “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time. The balls only last through five pitches anyway, seven if they’re lucky. They get deformed too much by the bats to be used more than that. The teams go through at least ten balls a game.”

  “So this one’s all yours,” she said.

  “No. It’s yours. You keep it.”

  She’d actually found something in New York she didn’t hate. Who knew it would be baseball? Something she should have experienced a long time ago, but it wouldn’t have been anywhere near as cool or as special as right at that moment. She gripped the ball and waited for the game to continue. She asked most of the questions, eager to hear what Angela thought of her son. She felt more at ease with Tyler and his mother than she had with any other parent of a guy.

  They hooted and hollered along with everyone else until the ninth inning, when the stadium exploded in cheers and screams as the Yankees won the game, and Tyler pulled Layla and Angela into a big hug. Angela laughed, holding them both. There was such warmth in the embrace, Layla didn’t want to be the first to break it. The ease and closeness of their relationship was so foreign to her. They’d sent little gibes back and forth and shared laughs and cheese fries through the game.

  Tyler let go of his mom but kept his arm around Layla’s shoulder. And for the first time ever, her instant reaction wasn’t to stiffen because of fear he would rebuke her or because of what Angela might think. She leaned into his touch, and he rubbed the tip of her nose with his finger.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed your first game,” he said.

  Angela smiled and then turned. “Let’s go,” she said.

  They wove their way from the stands, and Layla handed the ball to Tyler, still not wanting to put it away. Then she slipped away to use the restroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, took in the bright grin on her face, the shine in her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out as she walked out of the restroom.

  Tyler and his mom were talking off to the side, their backs to her. She couldn’t hear what they were saying and didn’t care as she looked at her phone.

  Eddie: 911. Call me!

  She pushed the Send button and lifted the phone to her ear. It rang, and rang again. She licked her suddenly dry lips. What could be wrong now? She got bumped to voice mail.

  “Hey, it’s me. What’s going on? Call me.”

  He knew where she was; he wouldn’t have interrupted her date for anything other than a true emergency. She looked at the time stamp on the text. He’d sent it almost an hour ago, and she hadn’t gotten anything since then. She put her phone back in her pocket and walked over to Tyler and his mom.

  TYLER TURNED AND smiled at Layla.

  “Ready?” he said.

  She nodded, and he handed her the ball. He couldn’t believe how well things had gone after her initial freak. He’d been such a complete idiot to think she’d jump for joy when his mother showed up. But she seemed to have relaxed more into the woman he’d come to know and less the prim and stiff woman she’d become after his mother’s appearance.

  He could still see reservation in her eyes, even as she smiled at him. She planned on leaving tomorrow, and he wouldn’t be able to stop her. The best he could do was maybe convince her to try to keep things going long-distance. They could have a pretty satisfying physical relationship over the phone, though he didn’t think he could go back to that after having her in person. She was as passionate and incredible a lover as she looked.

  He was amazed at how she’d fallen for the game, for the atmosphere and the rules. And she’d always have that ball to remember her first game. And to remember him. He took her hand in his, unable to keep from touching her, knowing their time together dwindled. He smiled at his mom as she led them from the ballpark.

  He thought over what she’d said while Layla was in the bathroom. Yes, Layla was sweet, but was she strong and wild enough for him? If only his mother knew all the details of the beginnings of their relationship, she wouldn’t have to ask. But she did know one thing. He had to be sure. He was sure. At least he thought he was. If she couldn’t stay in the city, then after the case, he’d follow her home to California and try to work things out from there. She’d be geographically closer, but he might still be
no closer to reaching her.

  Layla had gotten quiet. He’d come to realize that she got quiet and shy when she was hiding from something. He wondered what had spooked her into closing herself off again so soon. He’d thought things had gone well. Her palm resting against his was comforting, warm, familiar, but tension suffused her body as they left. Outside the stadium, the limo waited for them. He wondered what his mother would think of that one. She raised an eyebrow at them.

  “Could we give you a lift home?” Layla offered.

  “Your limo, huh?” Mom said.

  “Well, it’s the hotel’s, but yes, for tonight it’s mine.” A hint of something dark colored her words. Almost a challenge, as if expecting—or daring—his mother to disapprove. Even if she did, she wouldn’t say anything.

  “Well, no, thanks, dear. I drove. So I’ll just take my car home.” She moved closer to Layla and pulled her away from Tyler for a moment, giving her a hug. When it was over, Layla nodded to his mom. What had Ma said to Layla now?

  He hugged his mother good-bye and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Anytime, baby. You know I can’t get enough of those cute little uniformed butts.”

  He heard a small snort behind him as Layla laughed. It was an adorable sound that he would no doubt endlessly tease her about. They waved good-bye and climbed into the limo.

  “Thanks, Carl,” Layla said as she got in. “Did you enjoy the game?”

  “I sure did.” Carl turned to him. “Nice catch.” He smiled.

  Carl closed the door, and Tyler turned to Layla. She laughed.

  “The look on your face…” she managed to say between the giggles. “You didn’t think I expected him to sit in the parking lot in the limo and wait for us, did you?”

  “It hadn’t really occurred to me until just now.”

  “Well, I’m not my mother.”

  He saw the pain in her eyes as she spoke. She snapped her mouth closed. Okay, then.

  “Oh, God, 911,” she mumbled. Her eyes grew wide, and she physically recoiled from him.

  “What?” he said.

  She shook her head. “Nothing, never mind.” He could tell talking about her mom was difficult by the way she clutched the ball. She hadn’t even put it in her purse when she went into the restroom; she’d given it to him to hold. He wondered if she thought it was too dirty to put in her bag. Or maybe she just liked holding on to it. He hoped it was the latter.

  She shrugged in forced nonchalance. The idea that he’d thought, even just for a second, that she could have been that thoughtless hurt her. He could see the hurt on her face. Along with a healthy dose of fear. Where had that come from?

  “So…have I apologized enough for the parental ambush?”

  The right corner of her mouth turned up the tiniest bit. “No. But she’s really great, your mom. I loved those stories she told me about when you were a kid and convinced you had to protect her and your sister. Your family seems very close.”

  “It is. It was just the three of us after dad went away. Mom, Mandy, and I—we had a lot of fun together. Not all laughter and roses, though. Mom worked hard. Mandy and I both got jobs as soon as we could to help pay for things. We got on one another’s nerves sometimes. Well, a lot of the time, I guess. But we’re family, and that’s what family does.”

  She nodded, staring out the window. She took her phone out and opened it, then snapped it closed a second later and put it away. Something was going on, and she didn’t seem in a sharing mood. “Right.” The word emerged soft, without much feeling behind it, and he wanted to smack himself upside the head, just like his mother had done a while before. Why did he always step in it when around her? He knew she had a shitty relationship with her parents, and here he was bragging about how close he was to his mom. Past time for a subject change.

  “She liked you. A lot,” he told her.

  “I like her too.” That was it—no further explanation. Nothing.

  Boy, was he getting the cold shoulder here. What had happened between the last pitch and now? He had exactly forty minutes to repair it before they would be back at the hotel. Apparently limo sex was a onetime deal, because she now sat as far from him as she could while still on the same seat. It wasn’t even the sex he would miss on the drive back. It was the laughter and touch of her skin and the way she shared just a few intimate details of her life with him. Like her name.

  He tried a few more topics and got a few words from her at a time. He didn’t know what had happened. On the ride over, he hadn’t wanted it to ever end. This time he couldn’t get out of this damned icebox quick enough. It had to be almost over, right? He only had a few minutes in the stop-and-go traffic left to figure out what had happened.

  She turned to him and sighed. “Look, I…” She stopped and took a deep breath. Was she actually shaking? She set the ball on the seat between them. “I had a really nice time tonight, Tyler. I really did. But this”—she motioned between them—“whatever we’re doing. It has to be over now. We’re going to get out of this limo when it stops and say good-bye. This is it.” She turned away from him, as if she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

  What the hell?

  He reached for her, and she stiffened at his touch, then pushed his hand away. She looked back at him, and he almost didn’t recognize the coal-brown eyes staring at him.

  “Good-bye, Tyler. Go home.”

  He’d never heard such a scathing voice before, even when Layla had pretended to be the hotel inspector. The limo pulled to a stop, and she got out, almost running for the entrance of the hotel. He jogged after her and followed her right through the revolving door into the lobby. He grabbed her arm until she spun on him. For a second, he thought she would slam a fist into his face, but she seemed to rein herself in. She was a controlled ball of rage standing there. She could be so passionate and carefree and wild one second and completely shut off and contained the next.

  “Layla, what’s going on? Look, I am really, really sorry that I brought my mom to meet you if that’s what’s gotten you so freaked out, but you can’t shove me away and expect me to just leave without more of an explanation.” He looked around the lobby at the wandering eyes and tried to lower his voice, but she cut him off. She wrenched her arm free from him.

  “You’re a complete fucking idiot if you think that your mother approves of me. She’s nice; she really is a good person. I can see that. But I’ll never be good enough for you. And even if she did think I was…this is never going to work. I live across the country. My life is too crazy to even try to make this work. So that’s it.” Her voice rose. “We’re done. Go home.”

  “That is just about enough of that,” someone said in a chilling tone behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tyler watched a veil come down over Layla’s face at the sound of that voice. Her entire manner changed. Gone was the anger burning in her eyes just a second before. Her spine was straighter, her shoulders back, her eyes distant and slightly downcast.

  He turned to see a pale, perfectly coiffed woman who looked like an older version of Layla, if Layla were a frigid bitch with light skin who’d never once in her life laughed. Jesus. The woman made a move to go around him and get to her daughter, but he stood his ground. She had blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, a small pair of silver-rimmed glasses rested on her nose, and she had light blue eyes. Layla took after her mother in many ways, except for her skin and eye color. Those must have come from her father.

  “Can I help you? I believe I was having a private conversation.” He lowered his voice. This was not a woman who would respond to anything but a strong offense. And he was not done talking to Layla. He would finish this discussion.

  “Not in the middle of my lobby, you’re not. Look at the scene you’re causing.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She shook her head and moved to the side. He moved with her.

  “Ma’am, I’ve played soccer, basketball, rugby, and football. You’re not getti
ng around me if I don’t want you to. So if you would please tell me what you’d like instead of dismissing me, I might perhaps be convinced to step aside.” Or not. He wasn’t going to let this woman anywhere near Layla.

  He fought the urge to step back closer to Layla. Her mother would interpret that gesture as him backing off instead of protecting her more. God, at least now Layla’s behavior in the limo made a little more sense. She must have known her mother was here. He liked that reason for her telling him to go home much better than the idea that she was done with him. He felt a hand on his back. He turned to the side, keeping Medusa in his periphery.

  “It’s okay,” Layla said. Her voice came out quiet, demure, but no less powerful.

  No, it was not okay. He wouldn’t just move out of the way and let this idiot woman bowl over Layla. Especially since he’d been the one causing a scene. Oh, the horror! A scene in the lobby of the hotel. He’d very much like to find the handle of the stick shoved up Mom’s caboose and yank it out.

  Layla’s mother gave him a withering look and stepped closer to her daughter, taking her by the arm. Like hell. He moved beside Layla, lacing the fingers of his right hand with her left.

  “Could you please not play tug-of-war with me?” Layla said. She sounded resigned. He hated that note in her voice.

  “Not tug-of-war. Just tagging along is all.” He didn’t pull on her hand like he wanted to, just stepped closer, ready to move when she did.

  She whipped her head to the side and looked at him. This woman he held on to was so unlike the one he’d caught a ball for. More like the one she’d been when his mom showed up. No wonder, if this was what her own mother was like. She must not have had much experience with nurturing maternal figures.

  No one else made any comments until they had moved into a small office down another corridor. One look from Mommy Dearest, and the guy in the office made himself scarce real quick. Tyler didn’t blame the man a bit. They both released Layla as the door shut behind them.