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.

A knock sounded on the door. "The ceremony is starting," Robby's voice called out.

Jack released her and stepped back. "I have to go." He walked over to pick up her tote bag. When he turned to face her, his eyes had resumed their usual golden brown color. "You should go, too." He handed her the tote bag.

She quickly loaded her gun, then checked the safety before snapping it back into the holster. As she carefully placed it in her tote bag, a defeated feeling dragged her down. She was a lousy interrogator. She'd found Jack, but she still knew next to nothing about him. He dressed well. He was gorgeous. He apparently had issues with his parents, but then, who didn't? And he could make people forget. "Why didn't you do it to me? Why did you make everyone forget but me?"

He gave her a sad look. "I tried, bellissima. You are immune to me."

She hugged the tote bag against her chest. "Not entirely." He'd just admitted to causing mass amnesia. She shivered. Was he some kind of psychic? Or worse? And how could she feel attracted to him?

"Would you accept this?" He drew a business card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "My cellphone number is on there."

He wanted to see her again? Her heart expanded in her chest. She took the card and examined it. Giacomo di Venezia. Was his last name Venice, or was that his hometown? Beneath his name, it read MacKay Security and Investigation.

"I want you to call me if you're ever in trouble."

She glanced up at him. "Only if I'm in trouble?"