A Noble Pursuit. Meg Lacey

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.

      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