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“I’m content to have us remain friends.”

Her answer pleased him. “Do you know why I brought you out here, Liz?”

She went with her first thought. “To seduce me where I can’t run away?”

He smiled, slow and lazy. “Liz, when we make love, no one will be seducing. We’ll both want it.” He eased closer, raising
a hand to stroke her cheek. “I brought you out here because I wanted to be alone with you—really alone—with no one demanding
my attention or yours. No bright lights or noisy people, just the silent sea and the open sky—and you and I sharing the quiet.”

She felt the trembling begin deep inside as she noted that he’d said “when” they made love, not “if.” “Are you always so sure
of yourself? What if I say I don’t want you?”

“Are you used to lying to yourself?”

He could read her like a very easy book, and that annoyed her.

“I also brought you here so I could kiss you with no distractions.” Before she could respond, his mouth took hers.

She didn’t want to kiss him back, to give him the satisfaction. But her traitorous body overrode her weak determination. His
tongue moved into her mouth, and the trembling increased. Without her permission, her arms went around him and her lips opened
to him. Liz felt her world tilt, and it had nothing to do with the swaying of the boat.

When Adam lifted his head, he felt less than steady himself. The jolt of his own reaction surprised him. He saw the awakening
in her eyes and wondered if she’d deny it. “As I said before, something’s happening here, something I hadn’t planned on. I
want you more than I can ever remember wanting
a woman before. I’m not sure why that is.” His puzzled frown was genuine.

She needed some distance, some time to regroup. Rising, she walked to the railing, hoping he’d attribute her shakiness to
the rocking boat. “A challenge, Adam? Am I a challenge to you?”

“You mean the poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks, on the way up in politics, going after the wealthy debutante?” Shaking
his head, he rose to join her. “You’ll soon discover I don’t give a damn about money, though I can appreciate what it can
buy. And I wouldn’t care if you were the scrubwoman in my apartment building.”

His face was close to hers again, close enough that she could feel the heat from his powerful body. “Adam, I—”

“You’re different from anyone I’ve known, Liz. You look cool, controlled, almost detached. But that kiss told quite another
story.” He took hold of her upper arms. “Let’s see if it was a fluke.”

He kissed her again, and it was better than the last time. He tasted her momentary resistance and then the relaxing that hinted
of surrender. And his own frustration. He tugged her closer, felt her begin to yield more completely. The skin of her bare
arms warmed as her blood heated. As his was heating, boiling.

With her back to the railing, he trapped her hips between his strong thighs. A soft moan escaped her as his tongue traced
her lips. He dipped his head to trail his hungry mouth along her throat as his unsteady hands molded her lower body to his
heated arousal.

Needs too long denied swam to the surface as Liz’s fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt. Desire licked at her
like the suddenly strong waves thrashing against their drifting boat. Steeped in an unfamiliar sensation, she felt herself
losing ground.

A chilling sea spray splashed along Adam’s face, cooling him in more ways than one, and he loosened his hold. He
took a step back, breathing hard. “Tell me again, Liz, how you don’t want me.”

But he felt no satisfaction at the vulnerable look in her eyes. Swearing under his breath, he walked to the wheel and turned
on the engine.

It was time to go back. Past time.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. It had been a grueling three weeks of campaigning up and down the Northern California coast,
giving speeches, eating endless rubber chicken dinners, shaking hands, smiling. Always smiling. He swung the Datsun onto the
off ramp and headed for his San Francisco office.

All this was necessary, he knew, but it was the part he hated. He’d taken a leave of absence from his own practice to run
for office, and he was anxious to get busy with new and bigger cases. Of course, he had to be elected first. Getting elected
meant convincing people all over the state that he was the man for the job.

On this late afternoon, he had his doubts.

He wanted a hot shower, a cold beer, a good meal, and… and he wanted to be with Liz Townsend.

Damn, he was spending more and more time thinking about her. Since their boat ride he’d seen her briefly twice, once for a
drink at Dobson’s, an old downtown San Diego
restaurant, and then at the opening of an art gallery where Molly had had a showing. Yet the kisses that they’d shared had
him awake nights, sweating, remembering. And here he was, going to his campaign headquarters instead of to his hotel room
because Fitz had told him that several San Diego aides had come up to help the less experienced volunteers at the north California
office.

The man has it bad, he told himself as he turned onto Market Street and spotted a sedan pulling out of a space near his building.
Quickly he parked, scowled at his image in the mirror as he ran a hand through his windblown hair, and hurried toward the
entrance.

The place was humming with activity: volunteers on the phones, leaflets being run off, envelopes being addressed, stamp machines
clicking, mail being sorted. As Adam strolled in and greeted everyone, his eyes scanned the room, looking for a head of dark
red hair and a pair of long, long legs.

She wasn’t there.

He found Fitz at a desk in a back office. After an oral report on his swing of northern cities, Adam tried a casual inquiry.
“By the way,” he began, placing a hip on the edge of Fitz’s cluttered desk, “I don’t see Liz Townsend.”

Fitz was riffling through a stack of letters. “No, she couldn’t make it.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

Slowly Fitz straightened, then readjusted his baseball hat as he studied his brother through his glasses. “She had another
commitment.”

It would make Fitz even more suspicious if he persisted. Adam picked up a letter and pretended that it absorbed his attention.
A few moments later he slipped off across the hall and found a vacant office with desk and phone. He got her number from information
and called. The answering machine said she wasn’t in, but he didn’t leave a message. Hanging up, he frowned at the phone.

What to do? Probably he should let it go. He twisted around on the plastic chair and stared at the overhead fan. He didn’t
want to let it go. It was a long shot, but he took a chance.

Katherine Townsend was formally friendly on the phone, obviously surprised to hear from him. With no small effort he got her
to reveal that Liz was at a downtown San Diego little theater group, working with underprivileged children who were rehearsing
a play. Feeling every inch the fool, he scribbled down the address, thanked Liz’s mother, and hung up.

He checked his watch. Four. The drive to San Diego would take too long. Restlessly he drummed his fingers on the desktop.
He didn’t have another engagement for three days. He’d been planning to drive down tomorrow, take a day or two off, then work
in the San Diego office.

Now he had a better plan. He picked up the phone and made another call.

Minutes later he went to find Fitz in his office. “Listen, something’s come up. Would you mind driving the Datsun when you
go back home tomorrow?” He held out the keys. “I need to be in San Diego tonight.”

Fitz frowned. “How are you going to manage that?’

“I’m going to fly down.”

Fitz’s frown deepened. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Liz, would it?” He saw the truth on his brother’s face. “I’m
not sure this is wise, Adam.”

Adam grinned. “You worry too much, little brother. I’ll check with you tomorrow.”

Fitz watched him go whistling out the door. Like father, like son, he thought sadly.

“It’s all right, Annie. Everyone forgets her lines once in a while. Just go back out there and try again.” Liz smoothed the
ten-year-old girl’s hair and gave her an encouraging smile. “I know you’ll do fine this time.”

Thrusting her hands into her jeans pockets, Liz watched
Annie walk slowly back out, wishing her success as the volunteer director lined up the children to repeat the scene. It was
so hard for these kids. Seldom did they have someone at home who supported their efforts. Usually they had one or more parents
heavily into alcohol or drugs. Never enough money for nice clothes, for good food, their living conditions often shocking.

Annie was small for her age, most likely from neglect and lack of early nutrition, and she stuttered much of the time; but
out on the stage she seemed to forget herself and talk slowly, clearly. Listening, Liz heard the child speak her line perfectly
and found herself applauding spontaneously. Annie turned and sent her a proud little smile. Liz gave her a thumbs-up signal
in return.

“Someone to see you, Liz,” Todd, the man in charge of set decoration, said from behind her.

Turning, Liz blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimness after the bright stage lights. Adam was standing near the stage door,
wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and navy slacks, the same as the day she’d first seen him. Surprised, she
walked toward him.

His face looked tired, and he wasn’t smiling. His eyes seemed to drink her in as they skimmed over her, then met her own serious
gaze. She’d thought of him far too often over the past couple of weeks and wished she could stop. All he had to do was walk
into a room and she was suddenly on shaky ground. Her heart was thumping now as she stopped a foot from him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked softly. “I thought you were in San Francisco tonight.”

“I was. But you weren’t there. I tried to get a flight out, but it’s Friday night and everything was booked solid. I chartered
a small plane.” His voice was low and even, yet the pulse in his neck was pounding. He could feel energy exuding from her,
excitement simmering. He couldn’t help wondering
how it would feel to be alone with her when she released that energy fully.

Nervous anticipation skittered along Liz’s spine. “You must have an early morning appointment here.” She watched him slowly
shake his head. “You chartered a plane to be with me?” Surely not. Surely it was a business decision.

“Yes. Just to be with you. I can’t seem to stop wanting to be with you.” A hard admission to make, to himself, to her.

In his eyes she read all the unspoken things neither of them seemed willing to say aloud. Wordlessly she stepped into his
arms. In the shadowed corner, her mouth sought his.

Enrico’s was a hole-in-the-wall, a small Italian restaurant tucked into a strip mall several blocks from Adam’s apartment,
but he swore it had the best pasta in town. Seated at a corner table, Liz stared out the window at a light rain while Adam
ordered for them.

She wasn’t hungry, wasn’t sure she could eat. She was trying desperately not to be charmed by him but was rapidly losing the
battle. He’d chartered a plane to be with her. Unbelievable.

It was something her father might have done. Joseph Townsend was a puzzling mixture of cold businessman and warm romantic;
the dichotomy often threw even his own family off balance. Though Katherine loved him deeply, she’d often warned Liz to stay
away from men like her father. And here she was across the table from one.

Exactly where she wanted to be.

The waiter poured the wine and left. Adam reached for her hand. “You’re awfully quiet. Sorry I interrupted your evening?”

“No.” She groped for a subject, any subject other than the one foremost on her mind. “You look beat. Is the traveling getting
to you?”

He shrugged. “Nothing a little vacation wouldn’t cure. I’d
like to go away for a week, someplace quiet, with no phones and no neighbors.”

Liz nodded. “I know that feeling. My family owns a cabin in northern California, up a mountain, very remote. There’s a stream
nearby, and all kinds of animals wander along. Near Grass Valley. I used to drive up there to study for exams, or just to
be alone.”

He smiled. “Exactly the kind of place I mean. I’d love a cabin in the woods. Do you go there often?” He picked up his wineglass
and tasted the rich Bordeaux, let it linger on his tongue.

She shrugged. “Not much anymore. Dad goes frequently with his friends. There’s hunting and fishing. Mom hates the place, and
my sister refuses to go.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

She let out a sigh. “Nancy. She’s two years younger than me.”

“Maybe we can match her up with Fitz.”

If only Fitz could forget Sandy Wilkins, Adam thought, and let himself get interested in another woman. He’d warned his brother
that Sandy seemed too flighty, too selfish. Fitz hadn’t welcomed the advice any more than he himself would have. A man had
to make up his own mind about the women in his life.

Liz smiled at the thought of his serious brother with her wild sister. “Nancy’s kind of a free spirit, a nonconformist. She
left home at seventeen, got married, then divorced. She’s lived all over, currently in Colorado.” She didn’t mention the frantic
calls, the arrests for drug possession, the distress she’d caused her parents. “My folks worry about her all the time.”

He read between the lines. “But you don’t give them anything to worry about, do you?”

She brought her chin up a fraction. “I try not to.”

He decided to probe a little more. “After the election, what do you plan to do, if you don’t go to law school? Concentrate
on your sculpting? Or have you been bitten by the political bug?”

She smiled. “No, not politics. It’s too all-consuming. My father is still after me to go into law, but…”

“But that doesn’t interest you.” He saw her shake her head and wondered if she’d be strong enough to stand firm against her
father. Though Adam respected Joseph, he was also aware the man was determined and unbending. “Does your mother have a career?”
Katherine Townsend kept a low profile. Other than her charities, he’d not heard much about her.