bolted from a boring business dinner. For hours, Juliette had sat listening to the discussion, smiling when called upon, uttering polite, meaningless words, knowing that this could be one of the routines of her life from this point on if her brother had his way. She’d have to be perfect on the job, perfect at home, perfect, perfect, perfect! It was enough to make a saint scream! Lately she’d become more and more resentful of her safe, predictable lifestyle. She’d watched her brother and his best friend, the man he’d been pushing as her fiancé in all but name, wheel and deal with business associates until she couldn’t stand it another minute. She wanted noise, color, atmosphere, laughter and music instead of a subdued, sophisticated ambiance. She ached for an adventure before she chained herself to marriage. Was that so selfish? Her cousin Carlyne had done it. Carlyne’s recent phone call replayed in her mind. “Juliette, you’ve got to take a risk, let yourself go. You’d be surprised what might happen.”
So she’d created a bit of a scene, a discreet one, of course, because Juliette couldn’t create a major disturbance without someone noticing, and the wrong type of publicity would be very bad for a young woman heading a major charitable fund. She’d pleaded a headache and escaped to the lobby, with her brother right on her heels. After their short, whispered argument, her head really did ache. However, instead of letting the maître d’ call a taxi as she’d promised she would, Juliette had escaped into the French Quarter to get some air.
Restless, feeling very much alone and removed from the activity around her, she’d wandered for a while, envying the obvious enjoyment and energy of the people celebrating carnival in New Orleans. In contrast, her own life stretched before her, bleak and devoid of enthusiasm. She’d skirted the Mardi Gras crowds watching the parades and finally wandered into a small park not far from the Renard Restaurant, but secluded enough not to be seen by her brother should he look for her. Taking refuge on a wooden bench, she’d sat down, alternately feeling sorry for herself and wishing she could find a bold warrior who’d rescue her and whisk her off to his bedroom, where they’d live passionately ever after. It was stupid and childish.
Then he had appeared.
As if she’d conjured him up from her fantasy, a man larger than life had strolled into view. Shocked at the real-life warrior who’d suddenly appeared, she had gaped at him as he’d walked toward her. As he’d passed under a streetlight she’d caught the subtle mahogany-red flare of his dark brown hair, which she decided hinted at passion—or was it temper? She had wanted to look away, but his arresting face had captivated her. She had shivered as she took in the broad brow, the slashing dark eyebrows, the piercing green eyes that gleamed like warm jade and had an edge that could cut like a jeweled dagger. He had looked quite fierce as his gaze bored into hers. She’d caught her breath at his aggressively chiseled cheekbones, at the square jaw shadowed by dark stubble. His nose looked as if it had been broken at some point. All she could do was stare at him like a backward child when he’d spoken to her. She had been so stunned that she couldn’t say a word, and as she’d stared at him, all she could think was What if I had no memory of my past? What if I could start my life here and now?
Why not?
Now, as she sat in the close confines of the car, Juliette slid him a look from under her lashes. Even soaking wet and a bit on edge, the man was impossible to resist, which was good because she didn’t want to resist. She’d been yearning for adventure and he’d showed up—the perfect man for a passionate escapade. She studied him surreptitiously. There was danger about him, but still, for some reason she knew she could trust him.
“Well, are you?”
His voice intruded into her thoughts, startling her. “Am I what?”
He adjusted the blower on the heater, then surprised her by sending a penetrating look in her direction, a look that cut into her thoughts and brought her survival instincts to 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
