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
