A Noble Pursuit. Meg Lacey

doing out here by yourself? Aren’t you with someone—friends, parents…?”

      Her head snapped up. “I’m not a child!”

      Shay’s gaze dropped and he took in the curves beneath the silk of her dress. She was no child, for sure. His gut tightened. Full-grown or not, there was something about her that made him want to shine up his armor and sharpen his lance.

      “And I’m not with friends,” she continued less vehemently. “I’m alone.”

      “Okay, you’re an adult. Still, isn’t there somebody…a boyfriend? Maybe you had a fight or something?” He glanced around the park, then his gaze swept over her again. “It could get rough out here later. If you were my woman you wouldn’t be here by yourself.”

      “Your woman?”

      “That’s right.”

      She gave him a hint of a smile. “Do you need a woman?”

      He was shocked. He’d have bet his badge she wasn’t a hooker. “Are you offering?”

      “That depends.” Her eyes gleamed with an unexpected excitement.

      Shay tilted his head. Now that was familiar, that seductive, teasing tone. His eyes narrowed as his gaze came to rest on her mouth. Her lips trembled again, but whether from fear or excitement he didn’t know. Maybe he’d misunderstood her tone. From force of habit, he called her bluff. “Depends on what?”

      “On if you feel like being a hero.”

      “You need a hero?”

      “Every woman needs a hero.”

      He gave her a skeptical look. “Not today they don’t. Most women would rather be the hero than depend on one.”

      “I’m not most women.”

      “I’ll say.” The words rushed out before he had a chance to think about them. He could feel his neck flush at the sly glance she gave him from under her long dark lashes. “What I meant was, most women wouldn’t be sitting here alone on a night like this. Or if so, they wouldn’t be alone long.” As if to underscore his remark, a group of revelers, dressed to the hilt in colored satin, frothing lace and elaborate headdresses wove past them. Their laughter was accentuated by the rumble that had been growing steadily louder throughout the evening.

      She shrugged and touched the wooden slats of the bench. “I came here because I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

      “Where’s there?”

      The woman scowled, avoiding his gaze. “Where I was.”

      Shay rubbed the spot between his eyebrows where tension was starting to build. Talking to this woman was like being caught in a never-ending loop. “Let’s get this straight. You don’t know who you are, where you’re from or why you’re here. That about cover it?”

      She shrugged. “That’s the story of my life.”

      “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Life has a beginning, a middle and an end. You’re still working on the first couple chapters.”

      “I think my middle and end are already written.”

      “You’re too young to be a cynic. Trust me, I know.” Did he ever. No one lost his ideals faster than a cop.

      “Aren’t cynics merely the flip side of idealists?”

      He lifted a brow, studying her in closer detail, now more intrigued than ever by her aristocratic Southern accent and the aura of class she wore. What the hell was she doing out here? “That’s pretty heavy thinking for a woman who can’t remember her name.”

      She frowned. “Maybe I read that somewhere.”

      “Do you remember reading your address?”

      She squeezed her eyes shut before saying in a fierce whisper, “No, I don’t.” She opened her eyes and stared into his, her gaze intense and gleaming with purpose. “Do you believe in fairy tales? In legends coming to life?”

      “Fairy tales?” The intoxicating scent of jasmine brought on images of sultry nights under the stars, crushed flowers and soft moans, and Shay shook his head to clear it. They’d warned him in Cincinnati that New Orleans was more seductive than a high-priced whore, but he’d shrugged it off. Now here he was, lurking in a park near the Renard Restaurant on a half-baked tip from an iffy informant and what was he thinking about? “Nah, I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

      “How about fate? Do you believe in fate?”

      “I believe in making my own fate.”

      A self-satisfied smile touched her lips. “I thought you’d say that.”

      Shay straightened. “What the hell am I going to do with you?” He shoved a hand through his hair. He had a job to do and he couldn’t do it with this type of distraction. He’d already decided that this stakeout was a waste of time and he’d been about to cut bait when he saw her.

      “What would you like to do?”

      Her voice, soft and provocative, whispered on the breeze as Shay glanced at his watch, then at his companion. Despite the temptation, he made the instinctive decision to protect his undercover status. “I’d better find a cop.”

      “A cop?” A hint of alarm crept into her question. “Why do you want a cop?”

      A gust of wind stirred the branches above them. “Get real. Why do you think? You don’t know who the hell you are. I can’t leave you here. You’d end up a crime statistic.”

      “I can’t involve the police.” Her voice started to rise, which set Shay’s warning lights flashing. Why was she so afraid of the police?

      “I’ve got to get you somewhere safe.” Shay slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Damn, what kind of…did you hit your head? Is that why you can’t remember anything? I didn’t even check. Maybe we ought to find a hospital or a clinic.” His fingers probed gently in her hair—searching for an injury, he told himself, not because he wanted to touch her. “Let me know if anything hurts.”

      She slapped his hand away and stood up. “Nothing hurts. Nothing you can see, anyway.”

      Shay straightened and reached for her arm. “Wait a minute. What do you think you’re doing?”

      “I have to go now.”

      “Go where?”

      “Anywhere.”

      Shay grabbed both of her arms and swung her around to face him. “Hold it. You’re not—”

      “I’ll be fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

      “The hell you will. Look, I’ll take you down to the precinct myself.”

      She tugged her arm away, surprising him with her strength. “No. I can’t let you do that.”

      A jagged flash of lightning split the sky. Shay glanced up, then back at her before grabbing her wrists. “You don’t have a choice.”

      Her eyes abruptly filled with tears and her voice tightened. “No, no, let go. I can’t go to the police. I can’t have that kind of—please let me go.”

      He pulled her close, stroking her tense back. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” What in the hell was this woman mixed up in? he wondered. Should he tell her he was a cop, after all? Not that he had anything but temporary jurisdiction on one specific case, but still—

      She struggled, attempting to pull away from him. “I have to go. Please, I’ll be okay.”

      Another crack of lightning split the sky, followed immediately by a roar of thunder. “I’m supposed to let you run away into a storm, without knowing who you are? Forget it, lady. I can’t do that. What kind of hero would I be?” The rain started to fall