“You’re not causing issues.” This was it—now or never. “I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but…” He didn’t know if he could ask her, because to try a bicoastal relationship with someone he’d only known a few days had to be crazy, right? People would think they were crazy, but what the hell did he care? “I hope we could still stay in contact. You know…talk, e-mail, video chat. That kinda stuff.”
He saw the answer on her face before she opened her mouth. No. This would be it for them. She’d leave in the morning, and he’d never hear from her again. He tried to ignore the burning in his chest but felt the sudden need to rub the pain away. Or vomit. He knew getting sick wouldn’t help. The only thing that would make the ache go away was a different answer than the one she was about to give him.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I mean, where could this go? We both have our lives, across the country from one another. And it’s clear by your boss showing up at one a.m. that I’m no good for you. He said it himself. You don’t need someone here keeping you up till all hours of the night when you should be sleeping or working.” She shrugged as if that was the only answer. That she was bad news and he had to stay far away from her.
Son of a bitch.
“So what you’re saying is that, even though I’m an adult and I’ve told you the problems at work have nothing to do with you, you’re going to take it upon yourself and do what you think is best for me, and cut off all communication?” His voice rose with his anger. With his hurt. How dare she try to make this decision for him as if what he wanted didn’t matter? “Sorry, Layla, but you don’t get to decide what I do and don’t want to do, who I want in my life.” He might as well lay it all on the table. He knew she wouldn’t shrink back from the anger, so he let it show.
He’d open himself bare to her and hope she saw that he was worth it, that they were worth it. What else did he have to lose? “So tell me you’ve got someone back home. Tell me you don’t want to see me anymore, tell me you’re never coming back to New York and I’ll have to follow your ass to California if I want to see you again, but don’t tell me you’re pulling away for my own good. Or because you’re a bad influence on me. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
He stopped. He’d carved his chest cavity open and spilled its contents onto the counter between them, for her and the whole world to see. All she had to do was give him some hope that they weren’t finished before they’d even had a chance to get started, and everything else that followed would be okay. He could fall in love with this woman, if she’d let him. But of course, it was too late for that. Because he loved her already.
She took a deep breath and licked her lips. He couldn’t help but follow the movement of her tongue with his gaze. She looked down at the counter, almost as if she could see his guts lying there. He sat in his kitchen, suspended in animation, waiting for her decision. Waiting to see if she was going to get up on the counter and tap-dance all over his entrails.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Why did he have to make this so damned difficult? He could tell her all he wanted that she wasn’t negatively impacting his life, but she’d seen the evidence of it three times already. What could she say to him that would convince him?
She stared at the flecks of silver mixed with the black and blue of the counter. She didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the hope on his face disappear when she told him they were done. Things wouldn’t work out between them. She had to make him realize that. It would be a waste of their time to pursue a relationship.
She had to choose one of the other options he’d given her and convince him it was true. If she told him she was never coming back to New York, he might just follow her to California. She couldn’t tell him there was someone else either. He wouldn’t believe her. He knew about her past and her time as the other woman. The only other option was to tell him she didn’t want to see him again. Convince him this hadn’t meant anything to her. That it wasn’t the biggest deal of her life that he’d stood up for, in front of, and behind her when she confronted her mother.
He was just too optimistic. Anything other than a full stop on her end would keep his hope alive that they had a future, and that wouldn’t ever happen. So she opened her mouth to lie, to tell him she would leave and didn’t want to see him again. She had to make him believe she wouldn’t yearn to talk to him, hear his voice, see his face, feel his hands on her body.
She looked up into his dark face, at his high, chiseled cheekbones and shaved head.
“Don’t decide now, okay?” he said.
Her throat constricted. How could he know her so well that he knew she was going to say no? God, she’d let him in so far; she hadn’t even realized it. She let out a breath.
“Okay,” she said, glad for the reprieve. She didn’t have to lie. Instead, she stood up and moved around to his side of the counter. “Let’s go. You need to get some sleep.”
He let her pull him to his feet and lead him to the bedroom. He closed the door behind them and undid his robe. He hung it up, and then he was naked again. It was good he didn’t just walk around like that all the time, or she’d never be able to leave. He turned to find her enjoying the view of his tight ass. He pulled down the blue covers and sat on the edge of the bed. He set his alarm as she stood there, still watching him.
It had been quite some time since she’d climbed into bed and slept next to a guy for the entire night.
“Do you want a shirt or something to sleep in?” he said.
“I have an entire suitcase of clothes in the other room.”
“Oh, right. Well, I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to go pulling things out of it. I’m not sure you could actually find anything in that mess you created, anyway.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She pulled her dress over her head and tossed it on the floor.
“Nope, you can’t come over here like that. I’ll never get a wink of sleep with you naked in my bed. Which is fine with me, but I got a feeling you’ll yell at me for it.”
Oh, so he was allowed to be naked, but she wasn’t? He got up and opened his closet, taking out a long-sleeved dress shirt. It would cover her at least to midthigh. He held it out to her, the dark purple material beautiful against his skin. She touched the soft, silky fabric. She slipped it on. It slid off her shoulders as she tried to button it. He moved closer, pulling her toward him and buttoning one of the middle buttons. He reached to do up the rest of them, but she stopped him.
“This is fine.”
“Still too damned sexy,” he whispered.
“That’s it. I’m sleeping on the couch.”
He slid a hand inside the dress shirt, holding the curve of her hip. His skin was hot.
“Uh-uh. You’re going to sleep right there.” He pointed to the bed. Then he picked her up and set her on the bed’s soft gray sheet. He went around and climbed in on his side. He shut off the light, and they lay down. He draped an arm over her midriff, lying on his stomach and facing her.
His dark face was hard to see with the lights off. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the lack of light. He held her there, his fingers warm, comforting, but still. His breathing deepened. Good. He needed the sleep. He had to be up in a few hours. He’d set his alarm for five. It was one thirty. She had three hours to decide what she was going to do.
“Layla,” he mumbled.
“Shh. Go to sleep.”
He fell quiet again. She thought he was asleep a few minutes later, but then his soft, deep voice whispered something else. It was so low she didn’t know for sure if he’d spoken. He was definitely still asleep. Which was the only reason she didn’t leap from the bed that very second.
Because what she thought she’d heard him say was “love” and “you” in the same sentence.
* * * *
Tyler’s alarm jolted him awake. He slammed his hand down onto the wretched thing, making it shut up. He blinked hard in the darkness, disoriented. What the hell time was it? Ho
w long had he been asleep? He tried to bring the room into focus. Flashes of yesterday ran through his head. He looked down at the empty bed. Where was Layla?
He turned on the light, cringing in the brightness. She didn’t lie in the bed next to him. She wasn’t in the bathroom. Her dress had disappeared from the floor. He expected to see his dress shirt in its place, but the floor was empty. A note sat on the pillow where her head should have lain.
Damn it.
He picked up the note, refusing to open it until he checked the outer room. He opened the bedroom door and strode out into the living area, clothes be damned. Not there either. Her suitcase was gone.
He sat down hard on the couch, clenching the piece of notepaper in his hand. It had been taken from his desk next to the window. He opened the note, already knowing what it would say. But he had to read it anyway.
Dear Tyler,
I had to leave to catch my flight. I know you have very little time to sleep, so I didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for everything this week. It was amazing. I hope things work out at your job.
Layla
He read the letter, reread it. Looked for something resembling encouragement. For some sign she wanted him to pursue this thing. She’d called it “amazing.” It was better than “fun,” but not by much. The best week of his life had been reduced to a note of exactly forty-three words, counting the salutation and closing. At least she hadn’t said it was fun.
Tyler sat on his couch, naked, the letter in his hand. What was he supposed to do now?
He glanced at the microwave clock. Well, right now he was going to get his ass moving and go to work. He hurried through the motions of getting ready and sprinted out the door, his head still in a fog. He looked up and was walking into his building, heading for the elevators that would take him to Johnson’s office. He had to stare at his watch three times to be able to actually read the fucking face: 6:50. Good, ten minutes early.
He clutched his briefcase harder. He’d found the crux of their case. Sometime in the madness of the morning, his brain had sifted through all the evidence again, as it had done so many times before. There was no possible way that Paulson could have stabbed the girl, hidden his knife, climbed over her body and back into his tent without touching the body or getting splattered with blood from the gushing stab wounds, and then called 911. Add to that the fact that the blood on his clothes had been smeared in a pattern that their expert said was from tripping over and landing atop the body that morning. He had the testimony from the forensic specialist in his possession now. All that combined with the way the cops had completely railroaded Paulson meant maybe they had a shot at winning the case. The evidence the department had gathered was shoddy at best.
He’d probably be able to get the case thrown out for police misconduct, but he needed to get a tighter time line. Prove Paulson’s innocence.
“The time line just doesn’t add up.” Williams’s voice reached him from inside Johnson’s office. Shit. He’d gotten there first.
Why didn’t the man just stay out of it? The pro bono department head didn’t work this much with the cases. They got shoved off on the lowly peons like Tyler. He knocked on the door, preparing himself. He’d forced all thoughts of Layla from his head. He had to. It was the only way he could pretend her leaving without even saying good-bye properly hadn’t broken him, just a little bit.
Williams opened the door.
“Lachlan.”
“Williams.”
“Well, don’t just stand there having small talk. Get your ass in here and close the door,” Johnson said.
Tyler strode in, leaving Williams to close the door behind him. Served him right, the prick.
“Nice to see you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, Lachlan.” The faintest air of sarcasm underlined Johnson’s words. Tyler focused on his boss’s face, refusing to look through the windows behind him and into Times Square. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. It wasn’t just his job on the line; it was Paulson’s life. And he’d be damned if he was going to let a little heartache stop him from keeping an innocent man out of prison.
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t help but overhear Williams talking about the time line, and I think he’s right. I came to the same conclusion this morning. But there’s something else. I spoke with the forensics man yesterday. He said the blood on Paulson easily corroborates his story that he fell over the body. There wasn’t any spatter evidence present that would indicate he stood before her and stabbed her in the chest.” There—stick that in your hat and sit on it, Williams.
“Good. You got that debriefing from the scientist?” The man didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge the fact that Tyler had just redeemed himself, didn’t give any indication that he was pleased with the work, but Tyler knew. It was hard to feel good pleasing a man with no ideals, whose sense of justice and right and wrong had been skewed years ago. Johnson wasn’t a bad guy, he wasn’t even a jackass like Williams, but he wasn’t out there championing the innocent either. Keeping Johnson happy, though, meant he still had his job—for the time being, anyway. And he needed his job.
“Yes, sir.” Tyler handed him the document from his briefcase. Johnson read through it while Tyler and Williams stood in his office. Neither spoke, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other man glaring at him. Good. Let the bastard pout.
Johnson skimmed the entire document in a matter of moments. “The DA will be hard-pressed to find someone to argue against this. It’s a sound testimony. Make sure you add him to our witness list this morning. I don’t want any chance of them not allowing him to speak on our client’s behalf.”
“Of course.”
“And get Paulson to give you more about the time line. We want as little unaccounted-for time as possible.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll go in to see him this afternoon.”
“What would you like me to do?” Williams said.
“Go back over the time line you’ve got—find the holes we need Lachlan to fill. Paulson seems to talk to him more than any of the rest of us.”
“Will do.” His voice didn’t show any of the irritation Tyler knew must be boiling just underneath the surface. He was pissed, but he was smart enough not to give any indication of that to their boss.
“Get to work, gentlemen. Opening statements are in five days.” Johnson handed Tyler the briefing and nodded to them. They were dismissed. Tyler turned and barely hid the smile threatening to curve his lips. It appeared Johnson would overlook his level of distraction the past few days in the wake of this new information.
He made it back to his office and sank into his desk chair. His gaze was drawn across the street to Layla’s window. The curtains were closed. She wasn’t in there. He knew it, but still his throat tightened, his abdomen clenched, as the curtains moved.
A young girl pushed the curtains aside and looked down into the city.
Not Layla. She was gone. And he had to ignore the burning ache and nausea coursing through him until they, too, left him.
Chapter Thirty
Layla looked up from her temporary desk as Brian strode into the room. The sinking in her stomach at seeing him angered her. What did she expect, Tyler to come waltzing in at any moment and tell her she was a moron for running away? Not in this lifetime. She’d left very little open to interpretation in her note. They were done, and it had been great while it lasted.
She sighed and pushed some papers aside.
“Layla, what are you doing here so early, or perhaps I should say late?” He smiled at her. A bag of Dunkin’ Donuts hung from his hand. He’d known she was there. What she once would have thought as a sweet gesture from a friendly coworker now looked like a sleazy boss trying to get up his secretary’s skirt. Except she wasn’t his secretary, and it was about time he realized that.
“Yes, well, something about this case doesn’t fit.” She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. “I’ve gone through the witness list for Malcolm, Johnson, and Klein. They add
ed another one this morning. Forensics guy. Looks like his testimony is going to play a big role in their defense. How closely have you looked at the dictation from our specialist?”
“I went over it two days ago. He’s confirmed that the stab patterns are consistent with the defendant’s height and the victim’s and the angle of the stab wounds.” He moved closer, leering at her. She’d seen that look on other men’s faces before, but never on his. He was imagining her naked while they were discussing the gruesome stabbing of Jeannie Rose. She fought the urge to gag. Or punch him. Neither would be beneficial. Why hadn’t she gotten on a plane this morning? Would have made her life easier.
He moved around her desk and sat, right on her paperwork. She scooted her chair to the side away from him, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. She tried to move out of his grasp, but his hand tightened.
“You know, Layla, there was a reason you were selected to come back to New York for this case. And it wasn’t your ‘skills’ with seeing the bigger picture. In fact, there’s only one picture I’d like to focus on right now.”
“You have exactly three seconds to get your fucking hand off me.” Her voice was low. Pleasant, even. One.
“And you have exactly three seconds to give me a reason to keep you around.”
“Three.” She grabbed his wrist with her left hand, forcing her fingers beneath his and wrenching them back.
He yelled and made a move to backhand her.
“Hey, guys.”
Layla looked behind him to see Bill, one of the ADAs, coming into the room.
Brian quickly pulled his professional veneer back in place and turned to Bill.
Bill moved closer and handed a file to Layla. “Here’s the information you wanted. I think we should go over it now, if you’ve got time.”
“I sure do,” she said, grateful for the interruption. It had prevented her from doing something foolish—like killing the district attorney of New York City. Jail wouldn’t agree with her. “DA Connely was just leaving. We’re finished.” She let her anger show in her last words. Brian rose and left.
An Affair Across Times Square Page 22