Kitabı oku: «A Noble Pursuit», sayfa 2
“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.”
At his words, Juliette felt as if she’d just been awarded the medal of honor. She could feel herself blushing, even though the rain was cool. “Thank—oohh!” He startled her as he yanked her from the puddle, swept her up into his arms without further conversation and headed for the iron gate. As if on cue, the skies opened, drenching them anew as Shay carried her up the sidewalk.
“Much more of this and we’re both gonna drown,” he muttered as he stepped onto the porch. He shouldered his way through the front door, then stopped in the vestibule, shifting Juliette in his arms and muttering under his breath.
Her arm went around his neck—for balance, she told herself, not because she wanted to get closer to him or anything. “Am I too heavy?” She’d said it automatically, praying he wouldn’t release her yet. She could feel his strength, the hard muscles of his arms and chest tense against her body. All she had to do was turn slightly to touch his lips with hers. It was tempting, very tempting.
“Heavy?” Shay grinned down at her. “Since when are sprites heavy?”
“A sprite?” She was sure her eyes were starting to twinkle as she stared into his. His green eyes were glowing, and he tightened his arms as if he didn’t want to let her go any more than she wanted him. “That’s rather fanciful, isn’t it? For a man who doesn’t believe in fairy tales?” she teased, just to see what he would do.
Shay scowled as a stain of red slashed across his cheekbones. “I need my key to get in the other door,” he said gruffly.
“Where is it? Did you leave it in the car?”
“No. It’s in my pocket, but I can’t reach it while I’m holding you.”
“Then you’d better put me down.” She hoped he didn’t hear the disappointment in her voice.
“Yeah, maybe I should.” Despite his statement he held her a bit tighter. “But it’s not a heroic thing to do, not to a damsel in distress. Forget it—can’t do it. Not when you’re dripping from the knees down.”
“I’m still wet, whether you’re holding me or not,” Juliette said in a reasonable tone.
“True. We could be stuck here till your shoes dry. Unless…” His brows lifted in a hopeful expression.
“Unless?”
His expression changed. A glint sparked in his eyes. “You wanna get it for me?”
“Get what? Your key?” Juliette gave him a suspicious look, warned by the challenging light in his eye. “That depends on where it is.”
“Back pocket, right side.”
“Back—” He was definitely up to something—something more than taking her mind off the “sprite” compliment that had embarrassed him. At least, she’d taken it as a compliment. Sprites were lovely, magical beings to her. She caught his lips twitching and glanced up quickly to see a teasing glint in his eyes. “Why don’t you put me down? Then you can get it yourself.”
“I can’t. Your feet are soaking wet and this rug is practically an heirloom, my landlady said.”
Juliette looked down at the faded Oriental carpet beneath Shay’s feet. “This carpet? Well, it certainly looks old enough.”
“We don’t want to damage it.”
“What about your feet? They’re wet, too.”
“I’m not dripping water the way you are.” He pointed at the ornate pattern, which was now a bit darker than before. “See?”
Juliette decided he was not only teasing her, he was testing her. Why, she didn’t know, unless he’d seen through her amnesia act. It probably wasn’t the best role she could have chosen for her escapade—not that she’d consciously done so—but it was too late to backtrack now. Juliette looked him boldly in the eye and called his bluff.
“Back pocket, you said?”
She leaned around so she could slide her hand down his side, past his waist and over his tight butt. Her fingers hesitated at the top of his pocket, but his eyes held a challenge, and with a quick move she slipped her fingers inside his pocket and began grasping for the key. Her fingers slid over his firm buttocks as she explored the inside of the pocket quite thoroughly, then jerked her hand up and out. She wanted to blow on her fingertips to cool them off. “The key’s not there,” she announced in a tight voice.
His eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “It’s not? I wonder what I…oh, how stupid. I remember now. I put in on my chain with my car keys this morning.” He lifted his hand and revealed the key ring dangling from his little finger. “Sorry, Red. I forgot. Seems like you’re not the only one with a bad memory.” He leaned down and unlocked the door.
She stiffened and her voice dripped ice when she said, “You can put me down now.” She knew he was suspicious of her story, and he’d just confirmed it. She’d have to watch it from now on, or run as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.
“No can do, the same carpet is in the hallway.” Clasping her high in his arms, he practically strolled down the hall toward the ornate caged elevator at the other end.
Annoyed, Juliette hissed like a wet kitten. She hated it when people patted her on the head and treated her like a fool. “I suppose you pulled that little trick to humiliate me? Right?” She raised her brows to their haughtiest level. “I demand that you put me down immediately.”
He chuckled as he stepped inside the open elevator and slid the cage shut. He pressed the button for the third floor before he answered her. “Now, Princess—”
“Don’t call me Princess.”
“—don’t lose your temper. You tell me what man could resist hanging on to an armful like you? I just wanted to see if you’d lost your spirit along with your memory.”
Her spirit. He thought she had spirit? Was this man off track! If she had any spirit at all she’d tell her brother that she didn’t intend to get married right now. Especially not to a man she didn’t love and had known practically forever as another brother. Spirit. That’s a laugh. The most spirited thing Juliette had ever done she was doing at this very moment. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do next.
2
SHAY SET HER DOWN just outside the doorway to his apartment.
Juliette looked at her feet and dripping hem. “No heirloom carpets up here, I suppose?”
Shay laughed. “My landlady didn’t mention the carpets up here at all.”
Juliette shuddered as she stared at the huge red cabbage roses that sprawled across the moss-green background. “I don’t blame her.”
Sending her an amused glance, Shay fit his key into the lock and turned the knob. He shoved the door wide and said, “After you.”
Juliette hesitated at the threshold. After all, the minute she stepped over it she was committed. Whatever happened for the rest of the evening was in her hands. Her breath quickened at the absolute knowledge that she was in control. Right now she could take what she wanted and the rest of the world be damned. No past, no future…only the present.
“If you’re worried about the carpet,” he said with a wink, “take my word for it—ain’t no roses on this floor.”
A small laugh gurgled in the back of Juliette’s throat. “Thanks for telling me, but I’m not concerned about the rug.”
Shay’s expression sobered, his voice suddenly gruff, as if he was trying to allay her fears. “Don’t be concerned about anything else, either. It’s safe.”
“Like a sanctuary, you mean?”
“Being a former altar boy, I wouldn’t say anything so sacrilegious.”
“Since when is safety a sacrilege?”
“When it’s used to run away from things people should be facing.”
Juliette froze. It was as if he could see into her soul. How did he know so much? Or was it merely a lucky guess? Lucky guess, she hoped. But he was right. She was running away, even if it was temporary. Instead of being here, she should be standing up to her brother right now, saying that although she loved him and wanted to help him, she had to consider what she wanted, 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 color of a summer morning, the clear blue walls and ceramic tile floor accented by porcelain as pure and white as fluffy clouds. She twisted around to reach her zipper, sliding it down until she could slip the straps off her shoulders. With one quick wiggle the straight sheath dropped to her feet, pooling against the white area rug like a black puddle. Juliette was relieved to be alone. She needed a few minutes to think. She glimpsed herself in the mirror. She’d worn nothing under the dress, her own tiny act of defiance, seizing the moment to prove she controlled her own destiny even though her brother was trying to arrange it otherwise. Not that anyone would have noticed if she’d been sitting at the restaurant table tonight as naked as a newborn babe; when they were talking business nothing else existed. But she’d known and marveled at her boldness. Provocative dress was not her usual attire—normally she wore chic business suits. But tonight she’d felt the sleek, smooth silk as it whispered against her skin like a lover, and she’d burned for the real thing. Now it seemed as if she might get the chance to experience that reality. If she could make him want her, that was.
Frowning, Juliette smoothed her hands over her small breasts and down her narrow hips. No wonder Shay had first taken her for a child. She might be petite and well-groomed, but she’d give her eyeteeth for statuesque and sexy. She gnawed at her bottom lip, wondering what to do. Unfortunately, nothing brilliant came to mind, so she’d just have to play the hand fate had dealt her. How fortunate that her father had taught her to love games of chance. She was about to play the biggest game of all, and risk everything if anyone ever found out.
Glancing around, Juliette spied Shay’s robe hanging right where he’d said. She hesitated for a moment, then went over to lift it from the hook. The white terry cloth was worn thin and felt as soft as a baby’s blanket. Juliette smiled and hugged it close. For some reason this tatty old robe made Shay even more appealing. No GQ look for this man, just clothes he felt comfortable with, Juliette bet. How long had it been since she’d been really comfortable with anything? Comfort meant accepting who you were, and she was having problems doing that at the moment. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if her life had taken a ninety-degree turn—at least not until she met Shay.
Shay. So unexpected. So different. So tempting. So perfect.
She’d been accustomed to the best of everything throughout her life, so she often took perfection for granted. Not that she meant to; it was just part of her existence. Recently, though, she was questioning her lifestyle overtly—not just as a passing thought. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of the robe, imagining the nubby fabric rubbing over his arms as he performed the same act time and time again. She settled the robe around her, feeling the weight on her shoulders, the soft fabric draping her like a familiar lover. She tied the sash, pulling it tight, and chuckled when she realized it practically circled her twice. Glancing in the mirror, she decided she looked rather like a lone potato in a large sack, so lost did she seem. Good God! She couldn’t let him see her like this. Whatever made her think she could be a sex kitten? When he’d first mentioned his robe, her imagination had kindled erotic visions of herself in a sleek satin, wine-red number with a neckline that plunged to her toes and was guaranteed to drive any man crazy. She peeked at herself again, decked out in what resembled an oversize bath towel. Although she might find the terry cloth appealing, she doubted he’d feel the same way.
“What are you doing? I think you’ve really lost it, girl,” she whispered to herself.
Juliette stood on her tiptoe and peeked at herself again. Her hair was tousled and her eyes were huge. It was an appealing look if you liked drowned rats or waifs. She swore under her breath and reached for a towel to dry her hair. Leaning over, she rubbed her head briskly, her mind scurrying in place like a hamster on a wheel as she tried to control her panic. Ohmygod, maybe there’s a window I can climb through. She didn’t get a chance to find out.
The door shuddered with the force of a fist knocking. “Red, hey Red, are you okay in there?”
Juliette whirled around and stared at the door as if it had spoken to her. “I—” Her voice emerged as a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t feel dizzy or anything, do you?”
Only when I think of coming out of here and what I want to happen next.
The doorknob jiggled, then turned. “I’m coming in.”
“No, that’s all right. I’m coming out.” With a quick, despairing glance in the mirror, Juliette reached for the door and twisted the handle. She stepped from the bathroom, smacking into Shay, who was planted on the other side. Her face buried itself in his chest, which was exposed by the open shirt he wore. His rough hair tickled her nose, and her hands automatically came up to push herself away. However, she found them lingering on that chest, unwilling to move, her fingertips wantonly caressing his firm muscles, the sculpted perfection beneath her hands. She glanced up at him, only to find him staring down at her, his eyes sharp and intense.
“You changed your clothes,” she said, for want of anything more.
“You weren’t the only one who got wet.”
Juliette’s breath caught. He didn’t know the half of it. She ached, needed, wanted, longed… “Oh yes,” she whispered. “How stupid of me.”
“Are you warmer now?”
“Definitely,” she murmured. “How about you?”
“Me, too.”
She knew she should step away from him, but she didn’t want to. Couldn’t make herself do so. She had wanted the consummate fantasy, the ultimate adventure, and it was standing right in front of her. The reality was right under her fingertips. She couldn’t make herself move if she’d been standing on dynamite ready to blow. She felt his heated flesh practically scorching her fingertips.
Juliette smiled. “You seem very warm.”
“I am.” His hands lifted to cup her shoulders. “Matter of fact, it’s downright hot in here.”
She licked her lips. “Uh-huh.”
“Ah, hell. Now you’ve done it.”
She felt his hands tighten on her shoulders as she met his gaze. “Done what?”
Shaking his head, he muttered, “It’s the mouth. I’ve always been a sucker for a mouth like yours.”
Her lips felt as dry as a desert under the noonday sun. She licked her lips again, this time aware that his eyes followed the movement of her tongue. “A mouth like…” she let her words trail off, inviting his response. Maybe this seduction thing wouldn’t be so hard, after all.
“Like yours.” He leaned down, his lips touching hers with a gentle pressure, molding to her full contours.
Her lips tingled as they met his. She hadn’t known a man’s mouth could be so soft. She sighed. “Mmm…”
He drew back and looked at her, cupping her face with his hands. “They’re as full and sweet tasting as a ripe berry. I love berries.” He licked her lips, like a kid savoring a lollipop. “I could eat them up.”
Her lips parted slightly as his tongue stroked over them. “What’s stopping you?” She breathed the question into his mouth.
“You are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I’m taking care of you. I can’t take advantage.”
“You wouldn’t be taking advantage.”
“Yes I would.” He dropped his hands and stepped back from her.
“But—”
He turned and started for the living room. “Come on. The coffee’s getting cold.”
Stunned, Juliette stared at his retreating back. What had happened? One minute the man was completely turned on, and the next he was sauntering away as if he were on his way to a garden party. Juliette’s eyes narrowed as she considered his tight buttocks and long legs. Her temper started to simmer. If he thought he could taste her lips like a rich dessert, then walk away from her as if he’d decided it was too fattening, he’d better think again. If he hadn’t kissed her, her senses might have returned. She might have decided this entire episode was best left as it was—charming, exciting, but ultimately unresolved. After all, part of her knew that was the smartest thing to do. But no, he’d thrown down the gauntlet. He had to kiss her and walk away. No woman could take that type of insouciant challenge lying down. If he thought this was over, he was sadly mistaken. Before the night was done she’d have him. Her family history dictated that the Fortiers fought for whatever they wanted, and she wasn’t about to let her ancestors down.
She wanted Shay.
