A Noble Pursuit. Meg Lacey
with no sign of his quarry in the vicinity, decided to bail out. Then Shay pulled his attention back to the woman in his arms. Staring down at her, he cradled her closer. “I have to take you somewhere.”
The woman hesitated, then blurted, “Then take me home with you.”
“Home with me?”
“Yes. I can stay until the rain stops, and then I’ll go anywhere you want me to go.”
“That’s not the greatest—”
She shivered as the breeze whirled around them. “I’m getting cold.”
“Ah, hell.” Shay looked down at her, trying not to be distracted by the way the wet silk was clinging to her body, outlining every curve. He stripped off his jacket and threw it over her as the rain started falling harder. “Come on, we’ll have to run for it. My car’s on the other side of the park.”
Shay wrapped his arm around her, tucking her close to his side as they started running. They cut across the grass as the path was now crowded with fleeing people, some laughing, some swearing and some so drunk they were stumbling into each other. A man attempted to grab hold of them to steady himself.
Shay shoved him away. “Go sleep it off, jerk.”
“Looks like you’ll be doing the same,” he slurred with a leering glance at Shay’s feminine armful.
Sudden protective instincts leaped to the fore and Shay had to stop himself from punching the guy. “Get out of here before I arrest you.” The man moved away and only then did Shay realize what he’d said. He glanced down at the woman next to him, only to see a quick smile cross her lips.
“That was a clever way to get rid of him. I’ll have to use that.”
Shay chuckled as they continued to cross the wet grass toward the sidewalk. “No one in their right mind would take you for a cop, sweetheart.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Just then the heavens opened, spilling rain in great drenching sheets. Shay grabbed the woman’s hand and tugged her along, running down the concrete walk to the side of an old white Porsche that had seen better days. He dug into his pocket for his keys, swearing when his hand stuck in his wet jeans. Meanwhile the rain was plastering his shirt to his chest.
Shay glanced at the woman next to him to see how she was doing under his leather jacket. Marginally better, but not much. He managed to grasp his keys and remove his hand without turning his entire pocket inside out, then leaned down to unlock the door.
Pulling it wide, he began tucking her inside. “In you go, Red.”
She stopped halfway into her seat. “What did you call me?”
“Red. I have to call you something.”
“Why Red? Why not—”
He ducked his head as a particularly unpleasant gust of rainwater pelted his back. “We’ll talk about it when I get in, okay?”
She looked up at him, seeming only then to notice how wet he was. “Oh, of course…”
Shay scarcely heard her “Sorry” as he dashed around the car and slid behind the wheel. He shook his thick hair like a dog coming in from a dunking, and laughed. “Damn, it’s kinda wet out there.”
The woman stared back at him, looking slightly amazed at his good humor. “Yes, it is.”
“I’d offer you a towel, Red, but at the moment I don’t have one handy.”
“I don’t have red hair. So I don’t see—”
“I thought you liked fairy tales.”
“I do.”
“You remind me of Red Riding Hood.”
“And you’re…?”
“The hero, what else?”
She snorted as she lifted her brow to consider him. “You look more like the Big Bad Wolf.”
Shay grinned. “Hey, you’re starting to remember already.”
She glanced away. “I…suppose so.”
“Who knows what you’ll come up with by the time the rain stops?” He glanced through his windshield. “If it stops. This looks ready to settle in for the night.” He reached for the key and started the car, turning on the wipers and the heat. “We’ll have it warm in no time.”
True to his word, after a moment the car’s heater spat out a blast of warm air that quickly made the small interior feel even more cozy, more intimate. Their shoulders practically touched as they sat in the sports car. They were so close that Shay was aware of everything about her—the rain-sweet smell of her damp hair, the subtle jasmine perfume she wore, the small, perfect pearl drops that decorated her earlobes, revealed when she tucked her hair behind her shell-like ears. He could hear the soft slide of wet silk as she shifted in her seat, looking for her seat belt, and immediately wondered what it would be like to have that silk shifting against him. He stared at the rain rolling down the window glass, which was fogged by their breathing. They were enclosed in a cocoon of sensuality, and Shay had no idea how to break the spell. He didn’t particularly want to, either. To him, the atmosphere seemed thick, laden with unvoiced desires.
She smiled a bit nervously and held her hands, palms out, toward the heater vents on the dashboard. “That feels good. Hot even.”
That wasn’t the only thing that was hot.
Luckily, he kept his mouth closed, so the thought didn’t spill out and make him more uncomfortable than he already was. He was a cop, for God’s sake. He wasn’t exactly on the job tonight, but even so, he couldn’t run around with his zipper at half mast just because he was getting a hard-on the size of California. Not and still call himself a professional. Hell, he couldn’t understand it. He’d resisted some of the most gorgeous call girls in the business during his undercover career. It made no sense to jeopardize his integrity with some sexy little waif. Not that this woman was related to his case; she wasn’t. Regardless, he’d placed her under his protection whether she knew it or not. Which made this entire situation and his response to it as unethical as hell.
“Whew.” Taking his jacket off her shoulders, she folded it on her lap. “It’s getting a bit steamy in here.”
I’ll say. He scowled as he registered her creamy shoulders, which were barely covered by her damp silk wrap. “Keep that on—you’re soaked.”
“So are you.” She indicated her clothing. “I don’t want to get your coat any wetter and ruin it.”
“You can’t hurt that jacket. I’ve had it practically since I was a kid. Lots of good memories in that jacket.”
“What type of memories? Tell me. Maybe they’ll help me remember.”
Shay laughed, grateful for a chance to get his mind off his groin and back on safer topics. “I doubt it, Red. My favorite memory is wearing that jacket to my first college football game and trying to put the make on Heather Johnson under the bleachers.”
“Oh.” Then she grinned back at him. “I can sort of relate. Except for the leather jacket, the football game and Heather, of course.”
“And you’re relating to what?”
“To wearing something that made you feel special.”
Shay’s gaze sharpened. Pretty astute young woman. It only reinforced his growing unease. Something about this entire situation was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He didn’t know much about amnesia, except it was traumatic for the sufferer. Of course, she had gotten upset when he wanted to call the police, but he wasn’t sure that reaction was symptomatic of losing your memory. Or was it? What the hell. He’d spent his entire career adapting the game to meet his rules, so he’d play this situation until it was over, too.