Be My Baby by Susan Andersen Page A

temporarily discard everyday decency. She watched two separate groups of men get importunate with the unescorted women who passed them by, catcalling and exhibiting lewd hand gestures and body language.
    Glancing up at Beau’s profile, seeing the hard set of his bristly jaw and his don’t-mess-with-me cop’s eyes that absorbed everything around them and made steely contact with anyone who got too close, she was suddenly grateful to have him at her side. She’d bite her tongue in two before she’d admit it, but she knew it was his presence that caused the two rowdy groups to split around them as they passed, giving her and Beau a respectable berth. It was his presence that ensured not a peep was said to her. She let her breath out. “I want to go home now.”
    “That’s where I’m taking you, angel face. And not a minute too soon to suit me.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you’re simply dying to get back to—”
    “ Holy shit !”
    His interruption came just in time, since Juliet had been on the verge of saying something about all his women that would only have embarrassed her. That she’d think it was any of her business, let alone care, made her face flame, but luckily he wasn’t even looking at her; he was staring after a car that had cruised past. His grip suddenly tightened on her arm and without warning he took off at a run down the block to where the car was parked. Caught by surprise, she stumbled, and he gave her arm an impatient tug, barely slowing his tempo.
    “ Move , dammit. I just saw Clyde Lydet.”
    “Where?” She didn’t really expect an answer, and she didn’t get one. He hauled her ruthlessly along behind him and she concentrated on not running out of her strappy little sandals. They weren’t made for such activity, but she feared if she didn’t keep up, he’d jerk her right off her feet.
    Then they were at the car, and he swore and craned his neck to see down the street as he fumbled with the lock on the passenger door. The instant the tumblers clicked into place, he yanked it open. “Get in.”
    She dove in, reaching across to unlock his door. He slid in, rammed the key in the ignition, and cranked it over. The GTO’s engine roared to life. “Buckle up,” he ordered, his gaze on his sideview mirror. She was fitting the buckle’s tongue into the slot as he peeled away from the curb in a smoking patch of rubber.
    He was only able to race about fifty feet up the street before Quarter traffic conditions held him up. The avenues were narrow to begin with, and Beau swore steadily under his breath as he first dodged a tipsy reveler and then one of the tourist-trade horse and carriages. He stood on the brakes when a delivery truck that should have left the area long ago suddenly pulled out of an alleyway in front of him, and Juliet shot forward in her seat. She was throwing her hands forward to ward off collision with the dashboard when the safety harness suddenly caught and slammed her back.
    Beau reached for his own belt and snapped it around him. The truck had cut too wide, and it ground its gears and reversed back into the alley. “C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered as it inched backward. The instant there was minimal clearance, he hit his horn and wheeled the car around the still-reversing vehicle. Hunched over the steering wheel, he kept one eye on the traffic and the other on the streets in front of them, searching. “All right, you son of a bitch, where did you go?”
    Tension emanated off of him in almost palpable waves and Juliet found it contagious. Her heart drummed with excitement as she leaned as far forward as her shoulder harness would allow. “What’s he driving?”
    “Looked like a Porsche, a red one.” His mouth twisted. “Arms trading obviously pays a helluva lot better than public servant work.”
    Juliet rolled down her window and stuck her head out, scanning the alleys they passed and the streets ahead. “There! Up one—no, two—blocks, I think that’s him. He’s