A Noble Pursuit

“That was a damn big sigh, Red.”

“I know. Everything seems so…complicated…at the moment.”

Shay chuckled. “I guess it does if you can’t remember anything.”

“Yes, that was dumb, wasn’t it?” Of course it was, you idiot! He’s not interested in your personal problems. He’s only interested in finding a way to deal with the woman he picked up like a stray puppy. The thought that he might really be attracted to her died a quick death. He was just a Good Samaritan chalking up a virtuous deed for heavenly reward. The thought depressed the hell out of her.

“So, any idea why you were in that park tonight?”

Juliette spoke without thinking. “Escaping.”

“Escaping from what?” His voice sharpened and his expression turned to steel.

She shifted on her seat, avoiding his probing glance. “I don’t know.” Liar, she thought. She was running away from her future.

She’d just bolted from a boring business dinner. For hours, Juliette had sat listening to the discussion, smiling when called upon, uttering polite, meaningless words, knowing that this could be one of the routines of her life from this point on if her brother had his way. She’d have to be perfect on the job, perfect at home, perfect, perfect, perfect! It was enough to make a saint scream! Lately she’d become more and more resentful of her safe, predictable lifestyle. She’d watched her brother and his best friend, the man he’d been pushing as her fiancé in all but name, wheel and deal with business associates until she couldn’t stand it another minute. She wanted noise, color, atmosphere, laughter and music instead of a subdued, sophisticated ambiance. She ached for an adventure before she chained herself to marriage. Was that so selfish? Her cousin Carlyne had done it. Carlyne’s recent phone call replayed in her mind. “Juliette, you’ve got to take a risk, let yourself go. You’d be surprised what might happen.”

So she’d created a bit of a scene, a discreet one, of course, because Juliette couldn’t create a major disturbance without someone noticing, and the wrong type of publicity would be very bad for a young woman heading a major charitable fund. She’d pleaded a headache and escaped to the lobby, with her brother right on her heels. After their short, whispered argument, her head really did ache. However, instead of letting the maître d’ call a taxi as she’d promised she would, Juliette had escaped into the French Quarter to get some air.

Restless, feeling very much alone and removed from the activity around her, she’d wandered for a while, envying the obvious enjoyment and energy of the people celebrating carnival in New Orleans. In contrast, her own life stretched before her, bleak and devoid of enthusiasm. She’d skirted the Mardi Gras crowds watching the parades and finally wandered into a small park not far from the Renard Restaurant, but secluded enough not to be seen by her brother should he look for her. Taking refuge on a wooden bench, she’d sat down, alternately feeling sorry for herself and wishing she could find a bold warrior who’d rescue her and whisk her off to his bedroom, where they’d live passionately ever after. It was stupid and childish.

Then he had appeared.

As if she’d conjured him up from her fantasy, a man larger than life had strolled into view. Shocked at the real-life warrior who’d suddenly appeared, she had gaped at him as he’d walked toward her. As he’d passed under a streetlight she’d caught the subtle mahogany-red flare of his dark brown hair, which she decided hinted at passion—or was it temper? She had wanted to look away, but his arresting face had captivated her. She had shivered as she took in the broad brow, the slashing dark eyebrows, the piercing green eyes that gleamed like warm jade and had an edge that could cut like a jeweled dagger. He had looked quite fierce as his gaze bored into hers. She’d caught her breath at his aggressively chiseled cheekbones, at the square jaw shadowed by dark stubble. His nose looked as if it had been broken at some point. All she could do was stare at him like a backward child when he’d spoken to her. She had been so stunned that she couldn’t say a word, and as she’d stared at him, all she could think was What if I had no memory of my past? What if I could start my life here and now?

Why not?

Now, as she sat in the close confines of the car, Juliette slid him a look from under her lashes. Even soaking wet and a bit on edge, the man was impossible to resist, which was good because she didn’t want to resist. She’d been yearning for adventure and he’d showed up—the perfect man for a passionate escapade. She studied him surreptitiously. There was danger about him, but still, for some reason she knew she could trust him.

“Well, are you?”

His voice intruded into her thoughts, startling her. “Am I what?”

He adjusted the blower on the heater, then surprised her by sending a penetrating look in her direction, a look that cut into her thoughts and brought her survival instincts to the surface. “Are you warm enough now? I’ve got it on full blast to dry us off.”

“I, oh…yes. Thank you.” Juliette glanced away again, suddenly cautious. She had a suspicion that she’d better not underestimate him or push him too far.

A moment later, he said, “You’re awfully quiet, Red.”

The intimate timbre of his voice sent a current of electricity racing through her veins, leaving behind anticipation and a strange feeling of safety. Juliette stared at his fingers gripping the steering wheel. She wondered how they would feel on her body. Would they be hard and careless or callused and tender, his rough skin igniting flames with each touch? She could picture those hands stroking her to awareness, even through the wet clothes molded to her body.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Inhaling deeply, disturbed yet excited by the images running through her mind, Juliette blurted, “Making love in the rain.” Surprised at herself, she caught a brief glimpse of his face, eyes wide, mouth open with astonishment, before she turned her head to stare blindly out the window. He started to speak, but began coughing instead, until he finally choked out, “I beg—your—pardon?”

“There was a couple back there…” Juliette was thinking at lightning speed, trying to salvage the situation “…standing in the rain making love.” Of course, she couldn’t tell him the couple was in her imagination, and that it was them.

“Making love?”

His question jerked her back to reality. What am I doing here? If anyone ever finds out... After all, it was one thing to fantasize about a passionate adventure with a stranger and another thing altogether to actually have one. Yet why was she here if she wasn’t determined to live out her fantasies with this man? Not that she thought about having sex with him—exactly. Perhaps going just far enough to supply a warm memory for the long nights of chilly formality that her future promised. What was wrong with that?

He leaned forward to look past her out her window, then checked his rearview mirror. “I didn’t see anyone making lo—”

Juliette interrupted, abruptly changing the subject. “You said no one would take me for a cop? Why is that? I could be on a special assignment or something.”

Taking his time, he ran his eyes over her, then smiled. “You don’t have the look.”

With the back of her hand, she dashed away a trickle of water that was running from her hair into her eyes. “What look is that?”

“The disillusionment. You still look as if you believe in Santa Claus.”

“Since when is believing in Santa Claus a problem?”

“He’s a fantasy.”

“What’s wrong with fantasy?”

“Nothing, unless you let it get in the way of what’s real.”

Juliette shifted on the leather seat. “And if reality isn’t the way you want it to be?”

“Then change it.”

Juliette studied his intent expression as he peered through the windshield. With one sentence this man had given her confirmation that she was doing the right thing—rash or not. This is fate—signed, sealed and delivered. Her gaze touched on his firm lips. This man. It dawned on her that she didn’t even know his name. Should she ask him? What if his name was totally unromantic, like Ferdy or Linus or something. But she couldn’t call him Warrior King or Prince Charming—somehow she didn’t think he’d go for that. She sat trying to match a name with his profile.

“Why’re you looking at me so funny? Is my face on upside down?”

Juliette smiled. She’d never seen a face on better in her life. She loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was amused. “No, it looks fine to me.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know your name.”

The man threw her a startled glance. “I didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“It’s Shay.”

“Shay?” The name fit him—short, to the point and intensely masculine.

“Shay—”

She stopped him before he could continue. “Shay’s enough. It doesn’t seem right for you to have two names when I can’t even remember one.” Besides, she thought, a complete name would make this episode too concrete to live forever in her memory, as it must. “Shay is what nationality, originally?”

“My family’s as Irish as they come—shanty Irish, you know, the kind that kept the saloons in business? They came down the Ohio River during the potato famine and ran out of money in Cincinnati, so they stayed. At least that’s how the family legend has it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with starting at the bottom of the ladder.”

“And you’d know about that how, sweetheart?”

“What do you mean?”

He slid her a probing look. “You’ve never seen the bottom of a ladder in your life. You’ve got that high-class look that comes from centuries of good breeding—like some kind of royalty. Maybe I’ll just call you Princess instead of Red. I kind of like that.”

Princess. He was very observant, but she hated to be called that. Her father had always called her his little princess right before he issued some directive sure to choke her independent spirit. “You are a Yankee, then. I wondered about your accent.”

He chuckled. “I’m not the one with the accent. Not when it takes you three times as long to say a sentence as it does me.”

Juliette arched her brow, giving him her sauciest look. “We don’t see much need to rush in New Orleans. We like to take it slow and easy.”

“Yeah, N’awlins—the Big Easy. They told me.”

“Who did?”

His face tightened. “Just some people I work with, is all.”

“What type of—”

“We’re here.” Shay pulled up to the curb in front of a charming, four-story house, an old family home that had obviously been converted into a series of apartments. An elaborate wrought-iron fence surrounded the gardens that embraced an aged brick facade. Window boxes spilling vines and flowers hugged the side of the building in the cool rain. He turned off the engine, but didn’t move. “This is where I live.”

Juliette peered through the side window. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s a sublet. Just temporary.”

“You aren’t planning on staying in New Orleans, then?” She held her breath. It would be better for her peace of mind if he wasn’t around to tempt her after tonight.

“I’m only here to wrap up some business and then I head back north.”

“I see.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, each was reluctant to make a move. Finally Shay said, “The rain looks as if it’s letting up a bit. We’d better get inside before it changes its mind.”

Juliette smiled. “Good idea.” Before I do, too, she thought.

Shay slipped out the side door and came around to open hers, reaching down a hand to draw her from the car. “Careful, there’s a big pud—” Juliette landed with both feet in a puddle that flooded over her shoes “—too late.” Shay reached for her. “Ah damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t see that when I pulled up.”

Juliette laughed as his arms encircled her waist. “It could be worse. I could be drowning.”

Shay grinned back. “Atta girl, that’s the spirit.”

At his words, Juliette felt as if she’d just been awarded the medal of honor. She could feel herself blushing, even though the rain was cool. “Thank—oohh!” He startled her as he yanked her from the puddle, swept her up into his arms without further conversation and headed for the iron gate. As if on cue, the skies opened, drenching them anew as Shay carried her up the sidewalk.

“Much more of this and we’re both gonna drown,” he muttered as he stepped onto the porch. He shouldered his way through the front door, then stopped in the vestibule, shifting Juliette in his arms and muttering under his breath.

Her arm went around his neck—for balance, she told herself, not because she wanted to get closer to him or anything. “Am I too heavy?” She’d said it automatically, praying he wouldn’t release her yet. She could feel his strength, the hard muscles of his arms and chest tense against her body. All she had to do was turn slightly to touch his lips with hers. It was tempting, very tempting.

“Heavy?” Shay grinned down at her. “Since when are sprites heavy?”

“A sprite?” She was sure her eyes were starting to twinkle as she stared into his. His green eyes were glowing, and he tightened his arms as if he didn’t want to let her go any more than she wanted him. “That’s rather fanciful, isn’t it? For a man who doesn’t believe in fairy tales?” she teased, just to see what he would do.

Shay scowled as a stain of red slashed across his cheekbones. “I need my key to get in the other door,” he said gruffly.

“Where is it? Did you leave it in the car?”

“No. It’s in my pocket, but I can’t reach it while I’m holding you.”

“Then you’d better put me down.” She hoped he didn’t hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Yeah, maybe I should.” Despite his statement he held her a bit tighter. “But it’s not a heroic thing to do, not to a damsel in distress. Forget it—can’t do it. Not when you’re dripping from the knees down.”

“I’m still wet, whether you’re holding me or not,” Juliette said in a reasonable tone.

“True. We could be stuck here till your shoes dry. Unless…” His brows lifted in a hopeful expression.

“Unless?”

His expression changed. A glint sparked in his eyes. “You wanna get it for me?”

“Get what? Your key?” Juliette gave him a suspicious look, warned by the challenging light in his eye. “That depends on where it is.”

“Back pocket, right side.”

“Back—” He was definitely up to something—something more than taking her mind off the “sprite” compliment that had embarrassed him. At least, she’d taken it as a compliment. Sprites were lovely, magical beings to her. She caught his lips twitching and glanced up quickly to see a teasing glint in his eyes. “Why don’t you put me down? Then you can get it yourself.”

“I can’t. Your feet are soaking wet and this rug is practically an heirloom, my landlady said.”

Juliette looked down at the faded Oriental carpet beneath Shay’s feet. “This carpet? Well, it certainly looks old enough.”

“We don’t want to damage it.”

“What about your feet? They’re wet, too.”

“I’m not dripping water the way you are.” He pointed at the ornate pattern, which was now a bit darker than before. “See?”

Juliette decided he was not only teasing her, he was testing her. Why, she didn’t know, unless he’d seen through her amnesia act. It probably wasn’t the best role she could have chosen for her escapade—not that she’d consciously done so—but it was too late to backtrack now. Juliette looked him boldly in the eye and called his bluff.

“Back pocket, you said?”

She leaned around so she could slide her hand down his side, past his waist and over his tight butt. Her fingers hesitated at the top of his pocket, but his eyes held a challenge, and with a quick move she slipped her fingers inside his pocket and began grasping for the key. Her fingers slid over his firm buttocks as she explored the inside of the pocket quite thoroughly, then jerked her hand up and out. She wanted to blow on her fingertips to cool them off. “The key’s not there,” she announced in a tight voice.

His eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “It’s not? I wonder what I…oh, how stupid. I remember now. I put in on my chain with my car keys this morning.” He lifted his hand and revealed the key ring dangling from his little finger. “Sorry, Red. I forgot. Seems like you’re not the only one with a bad memory.” He leaned down and unlocked the door.

She stiffened and her voice dripped ice when she said, “You can put me down now.” She knew he was suspicious of her story, and he’d just confirmed it. She’d have to watch it from now on, or run as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

“No can do, the same carpet is in the hallway.” Clasping her high in his arms, he practically strolled down the hall toward the ornate caged elevator at the other end.

Annoyed, Juliette hissed like a wet kitten. She hated it when people patted her on the head and treated her like a fool. “I suppose you pulled that little trick to humiliate me? Right?” She raised her brows to their haughtiest level. “I demand that you put me down immediately.”

He chuckled as he stepped inside the open elevator and slid the cage shut. He pressed the button for the third floor before he answered her. “Now, Princess—”

“Don’t call me Princess.”

“—don’t lose your temper. You tell me what man could resist hanging on to an armful like you? I just wanted to see if you’d lost your spirit along with your memory.”

Her spirit. He thought she had spirit? Was this man off track! If she had any spirit at all she’d tell her brother that she didn’t intend to get married right now. Especially not to a man she didn’t love and had known practically forever as another brother. Spirit. That’s a laugh. The most spirited thing Juliette had ever done she was doing at this very moment. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do next.

2

SHAY SET HER DOWN just outside the doorway to his apartment.

Juliette looked at her feet and dripping hem. “No heirloom carpets up here, I suppose?”

Shay laughed. “My landlady didn’t mention the carpets up here at all.”

Juliette shuddered as she stared at the huge red cabbage roses that sprawled across the moss-green background. “I don’t blame her.”

Sending her an amused glance, Shay fit his key into the lock and turned the knob. He shoved the door wide and said, “After you.”

Juliette hesitated at the threshold. After all, the minute she stepped over it she was committed. Whatever happened for the rest of the evening was in her hands. Her breath quickened at the absolute knowledge that she was in control. Right now she could take what she wanted and the rest of the world be damned. No past, no future…only the present.

“If you’re worried about the carpet,” he said with a wink, “take my word for it—ain’t no roses on this floor.”

A small laugh gurgled in the back of Juliette’s throat. “Thanks for telling me, but I’m not concerned about the rug.”

Shay’s expression sobered, his voice suddenly gruff, as if he was trying to allay her fears. “Don’t be concerned about anything else, either. It’s safe.”

“Like a sanctuary, you mean?”

“Being a former altar boy, I wouldn’t say anything so sacrilegious.”

“Since when is safety a sacrilege?”

“When it’s used to run away from things people should be facing.”

Juliette froze. It was as if he could see into her soul. How did he know so much? Or was it merely a lucky guess? Lucky guess, she hoped. But he was right. She was running away, even if it was temporary. Instead of being here, she should be standing up to her brother right now, saying that although she loved him and wanted to help him, she had to consider what she wanted, too.

“Go on in, Red. I’ll make some coffee to warm us up.”

Juliette entered the short hallway, blinking when he reached around her and turned on a light. The soft glow illuminated the room beyond, beckoning to her, inviting her to leave the past behind and take temporary refuge. Regardless of what Shay had said, the thought relaxed her. She looked around the soft, rosy-peach-colored room. “This is very nice, so soothing.”

Shay snorted behind her as he ducked into a doorway off the hallway and headed into the kitchen. “I might as well be living in a perpetual sunset.”

“I like that. Don’t you?”

Shay flung open the white shutters that separated the kitchen from the living area. “Not every minute, I don’t. I’m more of a dark-chocolate-and-beige man.”

Juliette chuckled. “Lots of leather, I suppose?”

Shay leaned through the cutout opening and winked at her. “Only on my women, Red.”

“Oh—I forgot your coat. I left it in the car.” She could still feel the weight of his leather jacket as it had engulfed her, still smell the masculine scents that lingered in the lining.

He gave her an airy wave. “I’ll get it later. Come to think of it, that old leather looked pretty good on you.”

She stared back at him. His face was perfectly charming when he relaxed and put all of his formidable nature behind him. Or maybe she was seeing something she wanted to see. After all, it would be much better for her if he was a pussycat instead of a tiger. It wouldn’t be quite as threatening, or as damaging to her view of herself. Not that she didn’t have the stomach for lion-taming. At least she hoped she did. It was hard to say. Most of the men she’d known had been rather tame beasts. Now that she looked at Shay again, the thought of him as a neutered house cat was laughable. If ever a man was tense and ready for action, it was this one.

She walked to the kitchen opening. “Need any help?” she asked.

“Nah. If there is one thing I know how to make, it’s coffee.”

“It smells delicious.”

“That’s because I grind my own beans.” He indicated the coffeemaker. “I buy them special at the market and keep ’em in the fridge. You gotta do that so they stay fresh. You don’t want stale beans.”

“How did you become such a coffee connoisseur?”

“All co—” He stopped as if he’d shut off a switch.

“All what?”

“Uh, in my line of work I stay up late and do a lot of waiting for stuff, so a great cup of coffee really helps pass the time.”

“What do you do?”

Shay turned slowly and looked at her. “It changes, depending on my assignment. Sometimes it’s computers, sometimes it’s people-oriented, so—”

“You’re a temp, then?”

“A temp?”

“I mean a temporary employee, working for an employment agency?”

“Yeah. You could say I’m here on a temporary gig.”

She smiled, thinking this type of independence suited him. “I always thought that would be an ideal way to work. You’re constantly changing, going from place to place, job to job, learning something new, meeting different types of people. Not stuck in the same old rut.”

“Are you stuck in the same old rut?”

“Yes…” Belatedly, she remembered she shouldn’t remember. “At least I must have been—or do I mean must be? Why else would I forget everything? If I wanted to remember, wouldn’t I remember?”

Shay shook his head and reached for two mugs hanging on pegs over the stove. “It probably depends on what happened to make you forget. Amnesia’s a funny thing, I’ve heard. It can be physical or psychological—last a few minutes, a few hours, or much longer. Trauma can bring it on. But the odd thing is, you don’t forget everything. Somebody said you remember things that might not bear any relationship to your everyday life.”

Now Juliette was really feeling guilty. She liked it much better when he was questioning whether she could be faking. At least when he was skeptical she was better able to deal with deceiving him. But nice? Then she wanted to confess her lie.

“What I’m trying to say is, don’t worry about the memory stuff. It’ll come back. I’d bet my next paycheck on it.”

I should take that bet, Juliette thought, but she said nothing. “Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it.” She blinked, trying to keep at bay the tears that suddenly threatened. It had been a long time since a man had made her want to cry. The big hunk standing in the kitchen didn’t have the vaguest idea that he was inspiring such thoughts, and Juliette didn’t intend to enlighten him, but she wanted to…oh, how she wanted to. She stood there awkwardly, watching him pour steaming coffee into two mugs, then he turned and strolled out of the kitchen, around the corner and into the living room.