A Noble Pursuit. Meg Lacey

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.”