She could do this. She'd crashed the MacPherson wedding with no one realizing it. Of course, that had been a huge affair. The Ferguson wedding had been scarier. With only fifty people in attendance, she'd been painfully aware of the curious looks cast her way. She'd slipped away as soon as possible, leaving behind one of the three wedding presents she'd purchased that afternoon.
She adjusted the bodice on her red cocktail dress. Maybe she shouldn't have worn red. Or this low neckline. It was bound to draw attention. But this was a late wedding, starting at nine p.m., so she assumed it would be more formal that the afternoon weddings she'd attended. The red dress was the fanciest one she owned. The only fancy dress she owned. After leaving home, she'd sworn never ever to wear a full-length formal gown again.
Too bad she had to lug this canvas tote bag with her. Her uniform and weapon were inside, since she'd have to leave soon for work. Her shift started at ten, but she'd make it on time. It would only take a few minutes to see if Jack was here. She believed he was real, but she'd feel a lot better if she could verify that in person. And she wanted to know how he had managed to erase his tracks at the hotel. He was an intriguing mystery, with his ability to control minds. So naturally, as a wannabe detective, she just had to investigate him. The fact that he was also gorgeous and incredibly sexy didn't factor into it.
Yeah, right. She shouldn't lie to herself in church.
She pulled open the heavy wooden door and slipped inside the vestibule. Rows of red glass votives flickered, casting a warm glow against the stone walls. Her stiletto heels wobbled on the uneven pavement as she moved quietly toward the nave. Two saintly statues flanked the entrance, frowning at her for sneaking in uninvited.
Those who were invited seemed like a happy bunch. She remained half hidden behind the door, watching them as they laughed and talked. The ends of the pews were decorated with white ribbons and lilies. Another floral arrangement rested on the altar. She scanned the small crowd, looking for Jack. She didn't see him, but she did spot the guy who'd been sprawled on the floor covered with blood just the night before. How strange. He was perfectly fine now.
"May I help you?"
She jumped and turned toward the man who'd spoken behind her. A big redheaded Scotsman. "Hi there."
" 'Twill begin soon. May I escort you to yer seat?"
"Sure." She figured he must be one of the ushers. This was definitely a Scottish wedding. The guy was wearing a black-and-white-plaid kilt, white lacy shirt, and black jacket. A single red rosebud was pinned to his lapel, and his long hair was pulled back with a thin black ribbon.
He regarded her curiously with his light green eyes. "Ye're a friend of the bride?"
Lara's mind went blank as she desperately tried to remember the name of the bride. Cheryl? No, that had been the MacPherson wedding. Dammit. She'd paid more attention to the names of the grooms. And this groom had seemed familiar somehow. "I'm a friend of Ian MacPhie."
The Scotsman's eyebrows lifted. "Ye know Ian?"
"Sure. We go way back. I… used to date his cousin."
"I see."
Shoot, this wasn't working. She'd have to distract this guy. She brushed her long hair behind her shoulder to show off some cleavage and gave him the dazzling smile her mom had spent a small fortune on. "I don't believe we've met. I'm… Susie."
"Delighted to make yer acquaintance. I'm Robby MacKay." He took her hand. "Since ye're a friend of Ian's, he'll want to see you right away."
"Oh, that's not necessary." She tried to remove her hand, but Robby's grip tightened. "Surely it can wait till after the ceremony."
"Come with me." He pulled her across the vestibule.
Oh, shit. "Isn't the wedding about to start? We need to take our seats."
He opened a door and gently pushed her inside a dark room. "Wait here." He flipped on a light and as she quickly looked about, he grabbed her canvas tote bag.
"No!" Dammit, her weapon was in there. "I need that."
"Ye'll get it back." He started to shut the door.
"Wait! Is Jack here?"
Robby paused. "Jack?"
"Yes. Giacomo. His English-speaking friends call him Jack. I need to talk to him."
Without bothering to answer, Robby shut the door in her face. An ominous click sounded like a key turning a lock.
Dammit! Lara looked about the dimly lit room. A storeroom, she guessed. A row of high-backed, carved wooden chairs rested against the wall to her left. A bookcase filled with dusty old hymnals lined the wall to the right. The wall across from her was bare. No other door. Just as well. She couldn't leave without her uniform and weapon.
Damn, damn, damn! She paced across the small room. How could she have been so stupid? That Scotsman had moved incredibly fast. He'd wrenched the bag away before she'd known what was happening. But she had suspected he was onto her. She should have done something. But what? Drawn her weapon in a church at a wedding she was crashing?
She tried the door and sure enough, it was locked. How long would they keep her in here? What if she was late to work? What if she couldn't get her uniform and sidearm back? What a lousy cop she was turning out to be.
On the other hand, if Jack was here, then she was a damned good cop for managing to find him.
Male voices murmured on the other side of the door. She took a few steps back and drew in a deep, steadying breath.
Click. The door swung open to reveal Robby and… Jack.
Her breath caught. Good God, he was even more handsome than she'd remembered. His elegant gray suit looked tailor-made. His golden brown eyes widened as he looked her over.
"Ye know this woman?" Robby asked.
"Si." Jack never took his eyes off her.
"Lucky bastard." Robby shoved her tote bag into Jack's arms and strode away.
Jack continued to give her that look, the one she could only describe as hungry. A chill crept up her bare arms. Oh yeah. It was more than intellectual curiosity that had driven her to hunt him down.
"Bellissima." Jack shook his head. "Mi displace, I–I forgot all my English for a moment. You look so… bella. You would make the Mona Lisa cry with envy."
Her heart stuttered in her chest. Get a grip. You're here to question this guy. "Hello, Jack."
"I thought I would never see you again."
She lifted her chin. "I told you it wasn't over."
He walked into the room and shut the door. "Then you wish to start something with me?"
CHAPTER 3
Lara ignored the flutters in her stomach and the tingling sensation on her skin. She was not about to let this man know how flustered she was. "I'm here on business, Jack. This is an investigation."
He smiled slowly. "I'm flattered. I didn't realize I warranted so much personal attention."
The cad was trying to flirt with her, but she would remain professional. "You can answer my questions here or down at the precinct."
"I don't want to miss my friend's wedding."
"Then talk to me now. I want to know how you did it."
"Did what?" He ambled over to one of the high-backed chairs and set her tote bag on the red cushioned seat.
"You know what. I went back to the Plaza this morning, and the room was spotless."
"I told you I would clean it." He peeked in her bag, then glanced at her. "I'm a man of my word."
"If you're honest, then you'll tell me how you did it."
"I cannot take full credit. I was helped by some very efficient maids." He removed a gift-wrapped box from the tote bag. "You brought a wedding present. How thoughtful of you. Especially when you don't know the bride or groom."
Her face grew warm. "It was the least I could do. Now back to the matter at hand. When I questioned the hotel staff this morning, none of them could remember you."
He shrugged. "I suppose I am a forgettable sort of guy."
"On what planet?" she muttered, then blushed when he gave her a sexy grin.
He shook the wedding present. "What's inside
, Officer? Some handcuffs?"
"Very funny." And the rascal kept changing the subject. "I'll answer your question, but then you have to answer mine. I gave them some silver-plated salad tongs."
"Silver?" He chuckled. "Ian will love that."
"I couldn't afford anything fancier. I had to buy three presents today."
"You went to three weddings?" His eyes twinkled with humor. "Were you invited to any of them?"
She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I went to every wedding I found listed in the paper that had a Scottish groom. Ian MacPhie's name seemed familiar somehow."
Jack set the wedding gift down on another chair. "Ian became a bit of a celebrity about six months ago when he was declared the most eligible bachelor in the city on an online dating service."
"Oh, that's right. Now I remember." Lara's roommate had shown her that site at a cyber cafe. All the girls in the coffee house had drooled over Ian.
Jack glanced at her with a wary look. "Were you one of Ian's admirers?"
Was he worried about competition? Lara affected a dreamy look. "You have to admit Ian is incredibly hot."
Jack frowned at her. "He's taken. That's why his bride insisted on putting the announcement in the paper. She wants everyone to know he's no longer available."
Lara's curiosity got the better of her. "What about you? Are you taken?"
"I am single, but I wouldn't call myself available."
An odd answer. She wanted to know more, but she needed to stay professional. "Back to my original question. How did you erase all those peoples' memory?"
Jack rummaged around inside her tote bag. "So you crashed weddings with Scottish grooms until you found me? That's a fine piece of detective work. I'm impressed."
Lara's heart swelled at the compliment, then realized he'd done it again. "You didn't answer my question."
He pulled out her police hat. "Charming."
"Leave that alone. And answer my question, please."
He removed her folded blue shirt and pants. "You are going to work soon?"
"My shift starts at ten. Jack, how come no one remembers you?"
"I didn't want them to. Ah, your gun." He retrieved her belt, holster and automatic pistol from the tote bag. He flipped open the holster to remove her gun.
She reached for it. "Give that to me."
He ejected the clip and handed her the empty gun.
She lifted her brows. "Do you think I would shoot you? You wound me," she repeated his words from the night before.
His mouth curled up. "Brava, bellissima." He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slipped the clip into his trouser pocket. "You're very clever and talented."
"I plan to be a detective someday."
His smile grew. "Then we will be in the same business. I'm an investigator, too. For a private company."
"What company?"
"MacKay Security and Investigation." He peeked inside the tote bag. "There's something else in here. How interesting." He pulled out a lacy white bra.
"Put that back." Lara transferred the empty gun to her left hand, then made a grab for her bra with her right.
He moved quickly, whisking it out of her reach.
"Bellissima, why would you pack a bra in your bag?"
"So I can wear it, you creep. Now hand it over."
His gaze dropped to her low neckline. "Does this mean you are currently… without?"
"It's none of your business." She extended her hand, palm up. "Give it to me."
He continued to study her breasts. "I believe you are wearing a corset of some kind."
"I am not going to discuss my underwear with you."
His eyes lit up. "Then I'm afraid I will have to search you."
"What? Don't you dare."
He gave her an innocent look. "What choice do I have? You crashed my friend's wedding and brought a weapon with you. How do I know you don't have a knife strapped to your thigh?"
She gritted her teeth. "Because if I did, it would already be sticking in your chest."
His mouth twitched. "And then there is the questionable area surrounding your breasts. You must be wearing some sort of contraption, though I cannot detect any sign of one." He stepped toward her. "I will be forced to investigate further—"
"It's a Nu-Bra," she blurted out, then winced. How had this conversation veered so far off course? She ought to clonk him on the head with her empty gun.
"A new bra?"
"Nu-bra. Polyurethane cups that stick to your breasts. Now back to my original question—"
"They stick to your breasts?" He looked appalled, then focused once more on her chest. "Surely you did not glue them to yourself?"
"Of course not. There's an adhesive backing."
He grimaced. "Like duct tape?"
"Would you please stop ogling me?"
He lifted his gaze. "But when you rip them off, does it not hurt?"
"This is entirely inappropriate."
"Scusi, signorina, but it is entirely inappropriate for you to harm your breasts. They are very sensitive, no?"
She glared at him. "They're tougher than they look."
His gaze dropped once more to her chest. "Then you would not object to rough handling?"
The nerve of this guy! "I'm not discussing that with you."
"A little nibbling, perhaps?"
She snatched her bra from his hand and turned her back to him as she dropped it into the tote bag. "I shouldn't have come. You're impossible to talk to. I swear, you have a one-track mind."
"Perhaps." He sighed. "People have always said I cannot escape my heritage. My father seduced hundreds of women in his lifetime. My mother was his last conquest."
"Sounds like a real Casanova." Lara set her empty gun down, then stuffed her uniform back into the bag.
"Exactly," he said wryly.
She dropped her hat back into the bag. "Since you refuse to answer my questions, I'm leaving." She picked up the empty automatic.
"I wish I could answer you."
She turned to face him. "Then do."
"I… cannot."
"Try me."
His gaze flitted down and then back to her face. "I am very tempted to give you a try."
Her pulse speeded up. "Must you do that? Twist everything I say into some sort of sexual challenge?"
"Yes, I must." His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. "It is only foreplay when you feel it."
She stiffened. This man was outrageous. "I don't feel anything."
"I think you do. Your heart is racing."
How did he know that? "Give me the clip for my gun."
"So you can shoot me?" He touched her hair and rubbed a strand between his thumb and forefinger. "Your hair is like a fiery nimbus surrounding an angel of vengeance. What is your name, bellissima? Robby said it was Susie, but he thought you were lying."
She moved out of his reach. "I'm Officer Boucher to you. And I want my clip back, so I can leave."
He stepped toward her. "I bet you have a lovely, lyrical name to match the beauty of your face. A rich, melodious name that rolls off the tongue and reminds me of the luscious curves of your delectable body."
She stepped back and bumped against the wall. Damn.
He planted his hands on the wall, hemming her in. "Your beautiful name, bellissima. What is it?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Butch."
He blinked. "Butch?"
"The guys at the precinct call me that. It's short for Boucher." She shoved at his shoulders, but it didn't move him an inch. His body was like a boulder of granite. His head, too, no doubt.
"Butch," he murmured. "You're full of surprises. I like that."
Since he couldn't be budged with brute force, she'd have to try another tactic. "Tell me, Jack." She wrapped her right arm around his waist so that the gun rested against his back. "What else do you like about me?"
The gold flecks in his eyes gleamed. "I like your persistence. And your cleverness."
He hadn't mentioned her looks.
She liked that. She gazed at his mouth and licked her lips. "Tell me more, Jack."
He lowered his head till his mouth was a mere inch from hers. She could feel his breath upon her cheek. She leaned into him and eased her left hand into his trouser pocket where he'd stashed the clip.
"Bellissima." He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. "You're driving me crazy."
Was she really? Good. She liked that. She also liked the feel of the clip safely gripped in her hand. She eased her hand from his pocket and brushed her cheek against his whiskered jaw. "Kiss me, Jack."
"Before or after you shoot me?" His hand latched around her wrist. He lifted her arm so he could see the clip in her hand. "Shame on you, Butch."
"Shame on you. Refusing to answer my questions. Embarrassing me about my bra. I ought to drag you to the precinct and stick you in holding for a few days—"
He grabbed both her wrists and pinned her against the wall. "You refused to answer my question, too. What is your name?"
"How did you erase their memories?"
"Drop it," he growled. "You don't want the answer."
"I'm a good detective. I'll figure it out."
He gave her a beseeching look. "Just leave it be, Boucher. Go away from here and forget you ever met me."
She searched his face. "How can I forget you? Who are you? What are you up to?"
"I do not harm anyone. Can you leave me be?"
Could she? Could she walk out of here and never think of him again? No, she couldn't. She would wonder about him for months. Years. "What about you, Jack? Do you want to forget me? Do you never want to see me again?"
His eyes darkened. He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb, and it sent a delicious shiver down her spine. "If you knew what you're doing to me, you would run. You would run like the hounds of hell were after you."
Run? She couldn't manage to move an inch. "Aren't you being a little overly dramatic, Jack?"
"Am I?" He leaned close, and his chin grazed the edge of her brow.
The scrape of his whiskers sent a shiver down her arms, prickling her skin with gooseflesh.
"I believe you asked for a kiss, Butch," he whispered in her ear, then drew back to look at her mouth.
Her breath caught when she noticed the reddish glint in his eyes. That couldn't be normal.
Secret Life of a Vampire las-6 Page 3