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A Noble Pursuit
Meg Lacey
Undercover cop Shay O'Malley has the toughest assignment of his career. He, a Yankee, has to bring down one of the most prestigious families in New Orleans.Worse yet, he's unknowingly slept with Juliette Fortier– Princess Juliette Fortier–who may or may not be into the "family business" up to her lovely neck. He'd rather think she's an innocent, but after their night together, he knows better.…Juliette just wants a fling–a one-night stand before she settles down, bound by her royal responsibilities. But Shay keeps turning up in the strangest places…and she's powerless to resist his charms. Being powerless doesn't sit well with a princess.…
“Don’t stop,” Juliette whispered fiercely
Stop? It would have been easier to stop a freight train, Shay thought. Desperation and desire—a volatile combination. It made the ordinary extraordinary. The act of making love took on a whole new dimension.
Greedy, she devoured his mouth. “More. I want more,” she demanded.
“Everything I’ve got…promise,” he told her, and then moments later, he was as good as his word as he tightened his hold on her and she on him and their tension built to release.
Slowly, reality returned—bodies cooled, vision cleared, the night once again took on form and dimension. Shay still held her in his arms, not wanting to let her go, positive that if he did, he’d wake up and discover it had all been a dream.
“All right, princess?” he breathed into her ear.
Her answer came, still dreamy with passion as she tightened her legs, reluctant to let him go. “Perfect. But you don’t need to call me Princess. I don’t use the title.”
“What title?”
Her eyes popped open. Oh, damn!
Dear Reader,
Haven’t you ever wished you could run away from your everyday life and have an adventure? Haven’t you ever wished you would be swept off your feet by a bold, handsome man who whisks you away to a life of passion and laughter…with no laundry to do? I sure have.
And this is exactly how Princess Juliette Fortier feels as she sits on a park bench in New Orleans and wishes for a man to sweep her away, temporarily, from the future stretching before her. The only problem is she gets more than she’d bargained for when her adventure begins for real. She gets Detective Shay O’Malley, a hot-blooded cop hot on the trail of a criminal.
I hope you’ll love this story as much as I’ve loved writing about Juliette and Shay. Please let me know. I’d really enjoy hearing from you. You can e-mail me: MEGLACEY@aol.com, visit me at www.eclectics.com or through www.eHarlequin.com or send a letter to: Meg Lacey, P.O. Box 112010, Cincinnati, OH 45211.
Happy reading!
Meg Lacey
Books by Meg Lacey
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
734—SEXY AS SIN
A Noble Pursuit
Meg Lacey
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To dear friend, Robin Graff Reed, who dropped everything and jumped in when I needed her.
To my terrific editor, Susan Sheppard, who hung in there and taught me more than I can say. Thank you.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#uc3c1353d-b4ab-5937-9b2b-e8326e9f55e1)
Chapter 2 (#ua052d742-59f3-550a-9bb3-3ec5b0c85df8)
Chapter 3 (#u5618f41e-66a1-59f5-afab-d388a13e9234)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
1
SHE SAT ON THE PARK BENCH, naked and alone.
Or at least that’s the way she looked to Shay O’Malley as his gaze skimmed over her. She was actually dressed in navy-blue silk and dainty heels, but the expression on her face told him she was stripped to the bone emotionally and isolated from the lively activity around her.
Shay sighed. Damn, she looked so young. Or was that because he was studying her with his jaded cop’s eyes? He took another look. On second thought, not that young. Early to mid-twenties, at least. He glanced toward the street. In any case, she seemed too innocent and lovely to be sitting by herself on the fringes of the rowdy, wicked Mardi Gras crowd.
He knew immediately that he couldn’t walk away. He’d have to make sure she was all right. His damn hero-to-the-rescue complex came out at the most inconvenient times.
Swearing under his breath, Shay shrugged his shoulders, feeling the weight of his old, brown leather bomber jacket as it shrugged with him. Slowly, he walked over to the park bench. “Miss? You look like you got a problem. Can I help?”
The woman gasped, then glanced up at him with an air of surprise that made her seem ill-prepared to face the world. Her ocean-blue eyes were as wide as a child’s. Shay wanted to groan as he compared her with the sultry hooker who was flaunting herself by a lamppost near the street.
“You’re kind of young to be out here with this type of crowd, aren’t you?” Regardless of her actual age, Shay knew firsthand there were too many predators waiting to prey on those who looked like innocents.
Her gaze raced over him from the top of his head to his toes, but still she said nothing. She only gripped her fingers more tightly together and stared at him, as if he were the devil sent to tempt her to hell.
Shay frowned. “Don’t be scared, okay? I won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”
The tip of her tongue moistened her naked mouth, running slowly over her full bottom lip. Shay felt a jolt that was purely sexual. It singed his gut and quickened his breath. “I said, what’s your name?” Uncomfortable at his reaction, he spoke more harshly than he’d intended.
“I…” She blinked, her mouth trembling for a moment, and then she said, “I can’t…” She stared up at him, her breath coming a bit faster as her gaze roamed his face, touching on each feature.
He cocked his head, considering her. “You can’t tell me your name?”
“I…” Still she stared, then gave a little shrug. “I can’t remember.”
“You forgot your name.”
She looked confused for a moment. “Uh-huh.”
“So. Memory’s completely gone?” He tried to say it lightly, even though he knew cynicism was sneaking into his tone. His inclination to trust her was at war with his experience as a cop.
She was silent for another moment, then she squared her shoulders. “Exactly.”
Shay frowned and tried another approach. “What are you 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.”
