A Noble Pursuit. Meg Lacey

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.

      He deepened the kiss, knowing he couldn’t have left her if he’d tried. He should, he knew, but his blood was starting to run hot. He could no more stop his emotions than he could a runaway train. She was on track with him, keeping pace as their tongues lunged and dueled, her body pressing against his, warming him in a way he’d not known before. Oh, he had known passion, a great deal of it, but he hadn’t known passion mixed with such sweetness and soul-deep desire.

      The thought went briefly through his mind that, regardless of what happened, this would be a night he’d remember for the rest of his life. It wasn’t every day a man fell in love with a stranger.