A Noble Pursuit

He extended his hand, a grave look upon his face. “Here you go.” He touched his mug to hers. “To better times.”

“And drier clothing.”

“And drier…” He shoved his hand through his hair as his gaze honed in on her dress, immediately dropping to focus on her chest. “Ah hell, you’re really soaked, aren’t you? I mean everywhere, not just your feet.”

“Yes, but I’ll—”

“It’s hard to tell with a dark dress.” He jerked his gaze from her breasts, and Juliette realized her nipples were suddenly standing at attention, practically begging for a salute from his lips.

Her breath caught for a moment, before she muttered, “I’ll dry out. Besides, you’re wet, too.”

He shrugged. “Weather doesn’t bother me much, but I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“I’m not that delicate.”

Shay’s eyes darkened as his gaze skimmed over her. “Not true. I held you in my arms, remember.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, “I remember.” Did she ever!

There was a heavy silence for a moment before he said, “I’ve got a robe in the bathroom over there. Why don’t you put it on and I can hang up your dress to dry.”

She froze and then warmed all over. His robe. Should she…?

“It’s okay. You can trust me.”

She met his gaze, his steady and reassuring, hers questioning not his motives as much as her own. She knew she could trust him. He was the type of man you depended on, even as he kept you guessing. Yes, she could trust him—damn it! Damn it all because that meant that if anything was going to happen tonight, she’d have to make it happen. For all her bold resolve, she was hoping he’d take the entire issue out of her hands. That way she wouldn’t have to face her conscience tomorrow morning. She laced her fingers together, more to prevent herself from cupping his chin and pulling his face toward hers than to hide any distress.

“Red?”

“I know I can trust you. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, Shay.” For the first time she said his name aloud. Shay. She glanced up from under her lashes. The name suited his strong and cocky demeanor, his devilishly handsome looks. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked.

Shay seemed to relax for an instant, then as his eyes swept over her, he stiffened again. He jerked his hand puppetlike to a door off the living room. “Right through there. The robe’s on the back of the door.”

“Thank you.” Juliette handed him her coffee cup. Turning around, she managed to walk to the bathroom with some semblance of dignity. She stepped into a room the soft color of a summer morning, the clear blue walls and ceramic tile floor accented by porcelain as pure and white as fluffy clouds. She twisted around to reach her zipper, sliding it down until she could slip the straps off her shoulders. With one quick wiggle the straight sheath dropped to her feet, pooling against the white area rug like a black puddle. Juliette was relieved to be alone. She needed a few minutes to think. She glimpsed herself in the mirror. She’d worn nothing under the dress, her own tiny act of defiance, seizing the moment to prove she controlled her own destiny even though her brother was trying to arrange it otherwise. Not that anyone would have noticed if she’d been sitting at the restaurant table tonight as naked as a newborn babe; when they were talking business nothing else existed. But she’d known and marveled at her boldness. Provocative dress was not her usual attire—normally she wore chic business suits. But tonight she’d felt the sleek, smooth silk as it whispered against her skin like a lover, and she’d burned for the real thing. Now it seemed as if she might get the chance to experience that reality. If she could make him want her, that was.

Frowning, Juliette smoothed her hands over her small breasts and down her narrow hips. No wonder Shay had first taken her for a child. She might be petite and well-groomed, but she’d give her eyeteeth for statuesque and sexy. She gnawed at her bottom lip, wondering what to do. Unfortunately, nothing brilliant came to mind, so she’d just have to play the hand fate had dealt her. How fortunate that her father had taught her to love games of chance. She was about to play the biggest game of all, and risk everything if anyone ever found out.

Glancing around, Juliette spied Shay’s robe hanging right where he’d said. She hesitated for a moment, then went over to lift it from the hook. The white terry cloth was worn thin and felt as soft as a baby’s blanket. Juliette smiled and hugged it close. For some reason this tatty old robe made Shay even more appealing. No GQ look for this man, just clothes he felt comfortable with, Juliette bet. How long had it been since she’d been really comfortable with anything? Comfort meant accepting who you were, and she was having problems doing that at the moment. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if her life had taken a ninety-degree turn—at least not until she met Shay.

Shay. So unexpected. So different. So tempting. So perfect.

She’d been accustomed to the best of everything throughout her life, so she often took perfection for granted. Not that she meant to; it was just part of her existence. Recently, though, she was questioning her lifestyle overtly—not just as a passing thought. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of the robe, imagining the nubby fabric rubbing over his arms as he performed the same act time and time again. She settled the robe around her, feeling the weight on her shoulders, the soft fabric draping her like a familiar lover. She tied the sash, pulling it tight, and chuckled when she realized it practically circled her twice. Glancing in the mirror, she decided she looked rather like a lone potato in a large sack, so lost did she seem. Good God! She couldn’t let him see her like this. Whatever made her think she could be a sex kitten? When he’d first mentioned his robe, her imagination had kindled erotic visions of herself in a sleek satin, wine-red number with a neckline that plunged to her toes and was guaranteed to drive any man crazy. She peeked at herself again, decked out in what resembled an oversize bath towel. Although she might find the terry cloth appealing, she doubted he’d feel the same way.

“What are you doing? I think you’ve really lost it, girl,” she whispered to herself.

Juliette stood on her tiptoe and peeked at herself again. Her hair was tousled and her eyes were huge. It was an appealing look if you liked drowned rats or waifs. She swore under her breath and reached for a towel to dry her hair. Leaning over, she rubbed her head briskly, her mind scurrying in place like a hamster on a wheel as she tried to control her panic. Ohmygod, maybe there’s a window I can climb through. She didn’t get a chance to find out.

The door shuddered with the force of a fist knocking. “Red, hey Red, are you okay in there?”

Juliette whirled around and stared at the door as if it had spoken to her. “I—” Her voice emerged as a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t feel dizzy or anything, do you?”

Only when I think of coming out of here and what I want to happen next.

The doorknob jiggled, then turned. “I’m coming in.”

“No, that’s all right. I’m coming out.” With a quick, despairing glance in the mirror, Juliette reached for the door and twisted the handle. She stepped from the bathroom, smacking into Shay, who was planted on the other side. Her face buried itself in his chest, which was exposed by the open shirt he wore. His rough hair tickled her nose, and her hands automatically came up to push herself away. However, she found them lingering on that chest, unwilling to move, her fingertips wantonly caressing his firm muscles, the sculpted perfection beneath her hands. She glanced up at him, only to find him staring down at her, his eyes sharp and intense.

“You changed your clothes,” she said, for want of anything more.

“You weren’t the only one who got wet.”

Juliette’s breath caught. He didn’t know the half of it. She ached, needed, wanted, longed… “Oh yes,” she whispered. “How stupid of me.”

“Are you warmer now?”

“Definitely,” she murmured. “How about you?”

“Me, too.”

She knew she should step away from him, but she didn’t want to. Couldn’t make herself do so. She had wanted the consummate fantasy, the ultimate adventure, and it was standing right in front of her. The reality was right under her fingertips. She couldn’t make herself move if she’d been standing on dynamite ready to blow. She felt his heated flesh practically scorching her fingertips.

Juliette smiled. “You seem very warm.”

“I am.” His hands lifted to cup her shoulders. “Matter of fact, it’s downright hot in here.”

She licked her lips. “Uh-huh.”

“Ah, hell. Now you’ve done it.”

She felt his hands tighten on her shoulders as she met his gaze. “Done what?”

Shaking his head, he muttered, “It’s the mouth. I’ve always been a sucker for a mouth like yours.”

Her lips felt as dry as a desert under the noonday sun. She licked her lips again, this time aware that his eyes followed the movement of her tongue. “A mouth like…” she let her words trail off, inviting his response. Maybe this seduction thing wouldn’t be so hard, after all.

“Like yours.” He leaned down, his lips touching hers with a gentle pressure, molding to her full contours.

Her lips tingled as they met his. She hadn’t known a man’s mouth could be so soft. She sighed. “Mmm…”

He drew back and looked at her, cupping her face with his hands. “They’re as full and sweet tasting as a ripe berry. I love berries.” He licked her lips, like a kid savoring a lollipop. “I could eat them up.”

Her lips parted slightly as his tongue stroked over them. “What’s stopping you?” She breathed the question into his mouth.

“You are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m taking care of you. I can’t take advantage.”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage.”

“Yes I would.” He dropped his hands and stepped back from her.

“But—”

He turned and started for the living room. “Come on. The coffee’s getting cold.”

Stunned, Juliette stared at his retreating back. What had happened? One minute the man was completely turned on, and the next he was sauntering away as if he were on his way to a garden party. Juliette’s eyes narrowed as she considered his tight buttocks and long legs. Her temper started to simmer. If he thought he could taste her lips like a rich dessert, then walk away from her as if he’d decided it was too fattening, he’d better think again. If he hadn’t kissed her, her senses might have returned. She might have decided this entire episode was best left as it was—charming, exciting, but ultimately unresolved. After all, part of her knew that was the smartest thing to do. But no, he’d thrown down the gauntlet. He had to kiss her and walk away. No woman could take that type of insouciant challenge lying down. If he thought this was over, he was sadly mistaken. Before the night was done she’d have him. Her family history dictated that the Fortiers fought for whatever they wanted, and she wasn’t about to let her ancestors down.

She wanted Shay.

SHAY KNEW HE’D BEEN playing with fire. Of all the stupid, unprofessional, brain-dead things to do! He’d known better than to kiss her. It was bad enough that he’d carried her inside, even though it had served a purpose. He was trying to shock her and see if her memory would return. At least that was part of it. But the rest—ah, the rest… He couldn’t resist the thought of getting his arms around her any way he could.

Shay could feel her eyes boring a tunnel through his back. He wondered what she was thinking, then decided he didn’t want to know. Instead he walked over to the end table and picked up one of the coffee cups he’d set there a few moments before. He turned and held it out to her. That’s when he got his first real view of her wearing his bathrobe.

“Son of a—” He choked down the rest of his words.

He would never be able to wear that robe again without imagining her in it. He’d almost thrown it out a few days before, but now that he’d seen it on this woman he might have to frame it. The thin terry caressed her curves, molding them and beckoning him closer. He wanted to hold her, to keep her safe from life’s harm. What was she doing out on her own, anyway? Some man should have tucked her in his jacket pocket and not let her out of his sight. She looked slender and delicate, but not breakable. He took a closer look. No, definitely not breakable. There was something different about her, a glint in her eyes that put his senses on high alert. He didn’t have the vaguest idea what was going on, but he suddenly knew that if he had any sense, he’d run for his life. He strove to get the situation back to normal. In other words, back under his control. After all, controlling events was what he did best.

“Here’s your coffee, Red.”

She walked toward him with a disturbing swish of her hips, reminding him of a cat on the prowl. Now that he thought about it, she had the look of an exotic feline, with those slightly tilted vivid blue eyes, winged black brows, high cheekbones and triangular face. He could only pray she wouldn’t lick her lips like he was a saucer of cream, because that darting little tongue was what had set him off the last time. Her fingers touched his as she cupped the mug.

“Thank you,” she said with a slight smile. Lifting the china to her lips, she took a tiny sip. “Mmm, that’s delicious.”

Shay had to look over her shoulder, resisting the temptation to crush her mouth under his. He thrust a hand through his hair. “I grind—”

“—your own beans. I remember.”

Shay was positive his face was turning red. Either that or it was hotter in here than he’d thought. “Glad you remember something,” he mumbled.

“I’ve also remembered that I really love coffee. Real New Orleans coffee, hot and so strong it could blast the top of your head off.”

She said it with an innocent tone, but when he glanced at her, she looked anything but innocent. She looked as if she knew that his head was ready to blow any minute, and if she didn’t knock it off he was going to haul her into his lap and make love to her until she didn’t care if she ever remembered anything but him. Unable to think of a comeback, an unusual circumstance for a man in his line of work, Shay grabbed his own cup of coffee from the sofa table and indicated a chair.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Carefully he stepped around the table to sit on the sofa, only to jump up a moment later when she sat down next to him. With hasty steps he crossed to the bright colored armchair at right angles to the sofa and perched there like a confused parrot.

With an amused smile, Juliette curled up on the sofa, legs tucked under her, making herself right at home. “I won’t bite.”

“No. I know. I just didn’t think…”

Man, was that the truth. If he’d thought at all, used even one-tenth of the brains God gave him, he would’ve minded his own business earlier this evening. Even though he suspected he’d been given a poor tip that wouldn’t amount to anything at all, if he’d only used his brains he’d still be staking out the park where he could see the action…and possibly even glimpse his suspect. If he’d only used his goddamn brains he’d have left this lost waif—who was looking less lost by the minute—on the park bench instead of parked all nice and cozy on his living-room sofa.

He took a gulp of coffee and practically spat it back into the cup as the heat hit his mouth and tongue. He’d obviously underestimated the power of the reheat setting on his microwave. He swallowed, feeling as if his throat was on fire.

“Are you all right?”

Her concerned voice exacerbated his temper. When he could talk again, he said, “No, I’m not all right.”

He glanced over at her, and her appealing look made him want to kick himself. What the hell was the matter with him? The woman had amnesia, for cryin’ out loud; he couldn’t have walked away from her. As a cop, he might be a real hard-ass, but as a man…well, he’d recently rescued a kitten from a Dumpster in Cincinnati and taken it home. So how could he live with himself if he didn’t rescue, a two-legged creature? Especially one with such great legs, he thought as he caught a glimpse of bare skin showing through the robe as she adjusted her position on the sofa. Whoa, boy—forget that. You’re here to serve and protect.

Juliette patted the sofa next to her. “Why don’t you come sit with me?”

“That’s not a good—”

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Shay’s spine snapped to attention. “Of course not.”

“Well then?”

She smiled, and Shay could swear he saw the remnants of an age-old Greek siren in that smile, the type of woman who lured sailors to death on the rocks. Somehow he was on his feet moving toward her without having any idea how he’d gotten there. He sat beside her, taking care to leave plenty of room so their bodies didn’t touch. Pretending to be at ease, he leaned back, crossing his ankle over his knee, unwittingly exposing his ankle holster.

“Is that a gun?”

Ah hell, he’d forgotten about that. He’d automatically put it back on after he’d changed into dry jeans. “Yeah, but don’t worry, it’s legal. I have a license and everything.”

“I’ve never known anyone who had a gun, except hunting rifles, of course.” Obviously shaken, eyes round as doughnuts, she pointed at his ankle. “Do you still call it a handgun if you wear it on your foot?” She grimaced. “And why do you have a gun in the first place?”

Trying to relax her, he teased, “Well, I could be an escaped convict or some…” He stopped, realizing what a stupid thing he’d just said. Here she was, unable to remember anything, sitting in a stranger’s house, wearing a bathrobe. He opened his mouth to reassure her when she tilted her head, saying thoughtfully, “You don’t seem like a criminal.”

“Why not? What do you think a criminal seems like?” God, he’d never known anyone so naïve. It scared the bejesus out of him.

She nibbled on her fingernail as she studied him. “I don’t know, but not like you. You seem to have too many principles.”

“Then maybe I’m a cop. Cops have principles.” And he’d better remember them fast if he knew what was good for him. Never mix business with pleasure, remember?

“You’re not a police officer.”

“I’m not? Why not?” Not seeming like a cop was his stock in trade, so at least something was working right tonight.

She took a sip of her coffee, eyeing him over the rim for a long moment. “You could be, I suppose, but I can’t quite see you as one. You don’t appear that…that…”

“That what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Crude, or maybe I mean hardened.”

“Not all cops are like that, sweetheart. Just the ones on TV. I could be a nice, sweet, sensitive cop who’s in town on the trail of a criminal.”

“What type of criminal?” From the expression on her face, she’d obviously fallen for his game and was playing along.

Shay grinned. “A real bad dude.” The leader of a smuggling ring he was determined to nail. Failure wasn’t an option in Shay O’Malley’s book.

“Bad in what way?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious. I’ve never known a cop. That is, if you’re really a cop, which I doubt.” She recoiled at the sharp glance he gave her. “What?”

“How do you know you don’t know any cops? Is your memory returning?”

“No…” She paused. “It just doesn’t feel familiar, is all.”

He shrugged, automatically protecting his assignment. “Since I’m not a cop, I’m talking out of turn, but I’d guess cops are like everyone else.”

From the way she looked at him, Shay had a feeling she was absorbing everything about him, from his untrimmed hair to his love for Irish poetry. “I suppose they could be, but—” she shrugged her shoulders “—I really wouldn’t know.”

“If you have no experience with cops, why were you so terrified that I’d take you to one?”

“I wasn’t afraid of the police, but the publicity.”

Shay frowned. “The publicity?”

She stared at the blank face of the TV and said, “You know how these things always end up in the news. Poor little person with no memory, found wandering alone. Then you have reporters poking and prying. Everyone making fun and asking questions.”

“You sound as if you know something about the media.”

She sent him a quick glance. “I don’t know that, exactly. It just feels…”

“Familiar.” He found himself transfixed at the way her blush enhanced her cheekbones.

“Yes.”

“Anything else feel familiar?”

“Like what?”

He hesitated, then moved closer to her and took the coffee mug from her hand, placing it with his on the table in front of them. Then he turned back and gently pulled her against him, knowing it was insane, a total mistake, but doing it anyway, not wanting to know if he was trying to get to the truth of her situation or just trying to satisfy his need to have her in his arms again.

She snuggled against him. “This doesn’t feel familiar, if that’s what you’re asking.”

His fingers caressed her shoulder. “This doesn’t remind you of any special man in your life?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “But it does remind me of being warm and cozy.” The old windows in the building rattled and rain pelted the glass. “I’m glad I’m in here,” she whispered.

“There must be someone,” he persisted, sticking to the subject like a bulldog with lockjaw. “You’re too beautiful not to be involved with someone.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes.” His breath caught in his throat as she looked at him as though he was the only man in the world. He’d never experienced that before, never felt the keen desire to protect and ravish at the same time. “Very beautiful.”

She smiled and pulled his arm closer. “This doesn’t remind me of any other man. At the moment, all I can remember is you.”

Shay had to touch her. He couldn’t help himself. It was as if a goddess had come to life and offered him his heart’s desire—innocence mixed with a bit of vixen and a touch of spice. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertip lingering there before descending slowly to her earlobe.

“Ears are funny things, you know,” he mused. “On some people they look as if they’ve been stuck on with no thought for what the face looks like, but on you, everything matches….”

Her breath rushed out of her mouth as she whispered, “You’ve made quite a study of ears.”

His fingertip moved down to trace her jawline. “I make a study of everything about every person I meet.”

“That sounds like work.”

He ignored the little jolt to his conscience. “I like it. I like looking at a person and wondering what they’re thinking. Wondering if they know what I’m thinking.”

“It’s hard to tell what people want to keep hidden.”

“Sooner or later most people slip up.”

“Even if they’re very good liars?”

“Good liars are harder to read, but if you’re patient…” His fingertip traced her full bottom lip. “I can be incredibly patient.”

“And if I don’t want patience?”

“Ah, sweetheart…” He outlined her top lip with his finger. “Patience is a virtue.”

“And if I don’t want virtue?”

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Virtue’s overrated. I’ll take sin every time.”

She sucked his fingertip into her mouth, then released it to smile up at him. “Especially during Mardi Gras, when sin is a way of life.”

Shay’s heart needed restarting after she released his finger. He’d felt the tug of her mouth through his entire body. His mind drifted, wondering what her lips and tongue would feel like on more sensitive parts of his anatomy. He forced himself to reply, “Then it’s our duty to uphold tradition, wouldn’t you say?”

“Most definitely.”

“Besides, who knows what you might remember once you relax.”

“I don’t think this is the way to relaxation.”

No lie there, Shay agreed. If he got any more wound up, he’d shoot into outer space. Her lips beckoned him, but no more than the soft little moan of anticipation she made. What red-blooded male could resist that sound? He certainly couldn’t. He bent his head and kissed her, softly at first, then settling into it. His lips stroked over hers, again and again as he coaxed her to open to him. Not that she needed much urging. Her parted lips beckoned him inside, and he was never a man to resist something he really wanted. And he really wanted her.