Meg Lacey - A Noble Pursuit

“Red. I have to call you something.”

“Why Red? Why not—”

He ducked his head as a particularly unpleasant gust of rainwater pelted his back. “We’ll talk about it when I get in, okay?”

She looked up at him, seeming only then to notice how wet he was. “Oh, of course…”

Shay scarcely heard her “Sorry” as he dashed around the car and slid behind the wheel. He shook his thick hair like a dog coming in from a dunking, and laughed. “Damn, it’s kinda wet out there.”

The woman stared back at him, looking slightly amazed at his good humor. “Yes, it is.”

“I’d offer you a towel, Red, but at the moment I don’t have one handy.”

“I don’t have red hair. So I don’t see—”

“I thought you liked fairy tales.”

“I do.”

“You remind me of Red Riding Hood.”

“And you’re…?”

“The hero, what else?”

She snorted as she lifted her brow to consider him. “You look more like the Big Bad Wolf.”

Shay grinned. “Hey, you’re starting to remember already.”

She glanced away. “I…suppose so.”

“Who knows what you’ll come up with by the time the rain stops?” He glanced through his windshield. “If it stops. This looks ready to settle in for the night.” He reached for the key and started the car, turning on the wipers and the heat. “We’ll have it warm in no time.”

True to his word, after a moment the car’s heater spat out a blast of warm air that quickly made the small interior feel even more cozy, more intimate. Their shoulders practically touched as they sat in the sports car. They were so close that Shay was aware of everything about her—the rain-sweet smell of her damp hair, the subtle jasmine perfume she wore, the small, perfect pearl drops that decorated her earlobes, revealed when she tucked her hair behind her shell-like ears. He could hear the soft slide of wet silk as she shifted in her seat, looking for her seat belt, and immediately wondered what it would be like to have that silk shifting against him. He stared at the rain rolling down the window glass, which was fogged by their breathing. They were enclosed in a cocoon of sensuality, and Shay had no idea how to break the spell. He didn’t particularly want to, either. To him, the atmosphere seemed thick, laden with unvoiced desires.

She smiled a bit nervously and held her hands, palms out, toward the heater vents on the dashboard. “That feels good. Hot even.”

That wasn’t the only thing that was hot.

Luckily, he kept his mouth closed, so the thought didn’t spill out and make him more uncomfortable than he already was. He was a cop, for God’s sake. He wasn’t exactly on the job tonight, but even so, he couldn’t run around with his zipper at half mast just because he was getting a hard-on the size of California. Not and still call himself a professional. Hell, he couldn’t understand it. He’d resisted some of the most gorgeous call girls in the business during his undercover career. It made no sense to jeopardize his integrity with some sexy little waif. Not that this woman was related to his case; she wasn’t. Regardless, he’d placed her under his protection whether she knew it or not. Which made this entire situation and his response to it as unethical as hell.

“Whew.” Taking his jacket off her shoulders, she folded it on her lap. “It’s getting a bit steamy in here.”

I’ll say. He scowled as he registered her creamy shoulders, which were barely covered by her damp silk wrap. “Keep that on—you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” She indicated her clothing. “I don’t want to get your coat any wetter and ruin it.”

“You can’t hurt that jacket. I’ve had it practically since I was a kid. Lots of good memories in that jacket.”

“What type of memories? Tell me. Maybe they’ll help me remember.”

Shay laughed, grateful for a chance to get his mind off his groin and back on safer topics. “I doubt it, Red. My favorite memory is wearing that jacket to my first college football game and trying to put the make on Heather Johnson under the bleachers.”

“Oh.” Then she grinned back at him. “I can sort of relate. Except for the leather jacket, the football game and Heather, of course.”

“And you’re relating to what?”

“To wearing something that made you feel special.”

Shay’s gaze sharpened. Pretty astute young woman. It only reinforced his growing unease. Something about this entire situation was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He didn’t know much about amnesia, except it was traumatic for the sufferer. Of course, she had gotten upset when he wanted to call the police, but he wasn’t sure that reaction was symptomatic of losing your memory. Or was it? What the hell. He’d spent his entire career adapting the game to meet his rules, so he’d play this situation until it was over, too. It could be worse, he thought, smiling to himself. She could be eighty-eight and weigh three hundred pounds. He checked his mirrors and pulled out into traffic, before glancing over to answer her. “You’re right. I did feel special in that jacket.”

She smiled, sending him an admiring look. “Still do, I’ll bet.”

“Now it’s like a second skin. I’ve got it broken in just the way I like it.”

Shay saw her absentmindedly stroke the leather on her lap. Desire started gnawing at him again. He set his jaw in a tight line, imposing the control that was supposed to tamp down the fire. As long as he didn’t look at her, he figured, he might have a chance of coming out of this with his pants still on.

They drove in silence, each aware of the other. At least Shay could swear she was as aware of him as he was of her. This feeling couldn’t be one-sided. It was too strong and she was too close—way too close. For the first time, he wished he drove a full-size van.

She cleared her throat before asking, “Do you live far?”

He shook his head. “Just uptown a ways, in the Garden District. How about you?”

“I live—” She seemed to swallow her words. “I…” She stared at him, her eyes suddenly huge in her pale face.

“Sorry, just thought I’d give it a try. Take you by surprise and see what happened, you know?”

“Well, it almost worked until I thought about it.”

THAT’S THE TRUTH, Juliette thought. She’d almost blurted out her address the minute he asked her, just because she was so conscious of him that he sent her mind reeling. Not once could she ever remember being this aware of a man, being so drawn to someone that she wished he’d absorb her into his bone marrow. It’s what she’d have liked to feel about the man her brother wanted her to marry. But she didn’t. Of course, her intended fiancé was part of a practical arrangement, one that would unite their family fortunes—a normal occurrence in her social circle, especially since her father was a bit old-fashioned.

Juliette understood the business reasons behind her family’s wishes, but she resented—no make that hated—being used as a pawn in some game she didn’t want to play. She wanted romance, passion. She wanted a soul mate, a man who could touch her in ways she’d never dreamed of and could make her keep on wanting. What was the matter with a bit of fantasy? Was being swept off your feet by a bold, dashing figure astride a spirited stallion too much to ask? Just then Juliette caught sight of her rescuer’s reflection in the glass. A little smile caressed her lips. Or in this case, being swept off by a man wearing a brown leather jacket, beige T-shirt, blue jeans and boots, and driving a beat-up Porsche?

He indicated the window. “What do you think? Anything around here look familiar?”

She carefully avoided looking at the ornate building near the park that had belonged to her family for almost a hundred years and was now headquarters for the family business. “No, nothing.”