Mr. Unforgettable (11 page)

 

W
HEN SHE WAS DRIVING
on familiar roads again, Liz checked her messages.

The first was from a security contractor reporting vandalism to council buildings on Friday night. “Must have happened after our last check at 6:00 a.m., Mayor Light,” said Bruce's slow voice. “Cleaners found it at ten, when they were emptying the wheelie bins. The whole back wall is covered in obscenities. A couple of houses nearby have been tagged as well. I need your okay to authorize the cleanup.”

Liz listened for the time of call. 11.30 a.m. Saturday morning. Bruce had phoned again at noon and one, ending with: “I'll try and get hold of Deputy Mayor Patterson.”

Jo Swann at the
Chronicle
left her first message late afternoon: “Heard about the graffiti. We're running a story and I'd like to talk to you.” Her voice grew increasingly impatient over a further two calls. “We're going to press, and I really need an official comment.” And finally, “No need to call back. Snowy's supplied quotes…. You know, Liz, your husband always made himself available.”

And in between those, she listened to messages from Kirsty, initially breezy, progressing to irritated. “As your campaign manager, I should be able to tell people where the hell you are.” But it was her last message that made Liz pull into a lay-by and punch in her stepdaughter's number.

“It's midnight and I'm really starting to get worried. I even got Nev to check your house in case…” Kirsty's voice trailed off. “I know I'm probably being paranoid but please,
please
phone when you hear this message and let me know you're okay. It doesn't matter what time.”

Kirsty answered on the first ring.

“It's Liz and I'm fine. I just got your messages.”

She heard a shaky indrawn breath. “Thank God!”

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

Kirsty started to cry, and all the guilt Liz thought she'd sidestepped came crashing down on her head. Driving home late from a mayoral conference in Auckland, Harry had fallen asleep at the wheel and careened off the road, into dense scrub. His body hadn't been found for two days.

“All night,” Kirsty sobbed, “I lie awake imagining your car crashed in a ditch somewhere. It's not like you to disappear without telling anyone…We were going to the police this morning.”

“Oh, God…I'm so,
so
sorry.”

Kirsty blew her nose. “So you should be. Where the hell have you been?”

“I…I…”
I've been enjoying wild sex with Luke Carter while you've been reliving the trauma of Harry's death
. “Staying at an old friend's out of town.”

“
And
Jo Swann's been trying to get hold of you.”

Liz seized the change of subject. “I hear Snowy covered for me.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kirsty gave a last sniff. “Once again the hero of the hour. Let me read it to you.”

Liz heard the rustle of a newspaper. “‘Council recently approved security cameras. Unfortunately there's a lengthy delay between approval and implementation….' Here's the good bit…. ‘Let's just say one of my campaign policies is speeding up all this ponderous bureaucracy. I give my personal assurance to the community that security cameras will be in place this week—if I have to install them myself.' Hell,” Kirsty finished glumly. “I'd vote for him.”

Liz glanced at her watch. “I'm about forty minutes away. I'll come straight there to talk damage control…. And Kirsty? It won't ever happen again.”

“It had better not.”

Liz broke the connection and dialed Snowy's number. When he picked up, she let loose. “Aside from the fact that you know damn well security cameras are already scheduled for installation this week, you've no right to use your official role as DM for electioneering.”

She took a breath. “‘Ponderous bureaucracy' my ass. The only reason cameras were delayed was because your cronies kept raising spurious objections about cost.”

“And here I was expecting a call of thanks for covering—to quote you—your ass,” he said mildly. When Liz tried to answer, he talked over her. “And at least I was available in my official role.”

He waited for comment but, suffering a resurgence of guilt, she had nothing to counter with.

“Liz,” he cajoled, sounding like her old mentor. “This close to election, personality is bound to leak through, but I can assure you, any self-promotion was unintentional. So how about giving me the benefit of the doubt? I told Jo Swann that only something truly urgent would keep you away from your civic duties.”

She closed her eyes. “I'm sorry. I overreacted. Thanks for covering for me.”

By the time she'd rung and apologized to a chilly Jo Swann, Liz was close to hating herself.

And she definitely hated Fred.

L
UKE REALIZED
he'd seriously miscalculated his comfort zone when the bus doors opened and the noise hit him like a sonic boom. And then fifty kids aged seven to fourteen thundered down the stairs and surrounded him, jostling, touching and yelling questions.

“Where do I sleep?”

“Is there a pool?”

“Someone said we have to eat spinach. Do we?”

Glancing around, he saw his staff was equally besieged. Except they were happy about it. “You'll be allocated camp counselors who'll answer all your questions.”

Seeing their disappointment, he relented and said, “But you'll be sleeping in dorms, we swim at the beach so no pool and, yeah, there'll be some healthy food. But no spinach.” With a straight face he added, “Brussels sprouts.”

There was a universal groan.

“Hey, it was a joke.” They looked at him dubiously.

“Mister. Mister. Mister!” He glanced down at the young girl tugging on his Camp Chance T-shirt. She had bossy written all over her pointed little face. “If I hate it, Mum says I can go home.”

Luke disentangled himself and checked her name tag. “Hey, Moana, what kind of attitude is that to arrive with? You're going to love it here.” He tried to sound encouraging but, sharp as a tack, she picked up on his irritation.

Immediately, she turned her back and, dark plait bobbing down her scrawny back, shoved her way through to Rosie. “Hey, lady. Lady! My mum says…”

Recognizing he was out of his depth, Luke rallied his staff, gave his welcoming speech, then like all good generals, left the front line ASAP. His contact with kids was limited to his partners' various connections and, with the exception of his goddaughter, tended to be superficial. Hand over his medals and his money and they generally left him alone.

Walking inside, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scanned his messages, pausing as he saw one from Liz confirming their lesson tomorrow.

Last night he'd barely slept, restlessly alive to her heat, her scent, the rhythm of her breathing as she nestled against him in sleep. The whole purpose of having sex with the mayor had been to demystify this longing, unmask it for what it was—lust. Instead he felt edgy, vaguely dissatisfied, at odds with himself. He wanted more and he couldn't have it.

“Luke!” Rosie caught up with him. “You'll be joining us in the cafeteria for lunch, won't you?”

“I have a heap of work to do.”

She looked shocked. “You
have
to share their first meal.”

“Fine, I'll be there.”

In his office, he shut the door and the kids' excited cries dropped to a background murmur. His staff was going to have to learn to do without him. A motivational talk tonight, a token visit every day, and he was done.

The council had approved the project—there might be a few tweaks after these kids had tested the facilities—but in the short term he could ease back until they'd gone.

Picking up the
Chronicle
, Luke planted his feet on his desk and settled back in his chair. Ten minutes later, his feet hit the floor with a thump. “Shit!” He stared at the paper in disbelief.

Following her quote, was a brief history of Camp Chance's development, including every conflict from the ethics debacle with Jordan last year to Delores's failed petition to have the camp relocated “away from civilization.”

Swann's editorial made even more depressing reading. After doing a spot poll on the high street, she'd concluded that approval of the camp was only skin deep.

While he was glaring at the paper, the phone rang. “Carter.”

“It's Caroline.”

He made an effort to be pleasant. “Since when do planning consultants work Sundays?”

But she wasn't in the mood for small talk, either. “Listen, I've been studying the proposed new district plan and conditions are getting even more onerous. Remember your idea to make the camp less reliant on sponsorship? Save yourself more grief and submit an application for Resource Consent now.”

With his free hand, he massaged the back of his neck. “Please tell me you're joking.”

“Sorry, but I'm serious. Let me e-mail through what I have. Take a look at it and let me know.”

He did take a look, then with a groan that came from the soles of his feet, set up an emergency three-way conference call with Christian and Jordan.

“Go for it,” said Christian. “The sooner the camp's self-funding the better.”

“Hell, we're only asking for another dorm and a variation on the camp's usage,” said Jordan. “It's gotta be easier this time around.” In the background Luke could hear a ukulele strumming a South Seas love song to the honeymooners. “Didn't most of council show up to the work bee?”

“Only because Liz persuaded them it would look good for the elections. Mayor Light,” he added for clarification.

“We know who she is,” Christian said.

Jordan distracted Luke from a sudden suspicion. “Surely the mayor's support counts for something?”

“If she's reelected.” What would Liz do if she wasn't? He had a vivid image of her in a scarlet bikini under a Pacific Island sunset. “Jord, can you tell those crooners to knock it off? I'm finding it hard to concentrate.”

The music stopped. “There's another option for you two,” Luke said gruffly. “The camp was my idea, and there's no guarantee that we won't be throwing good money after bad. No hard feelings if you want to bail.”

“So how is Fred?” Jordan asked.

Luke frowned. “Did you hear what I said? I'm committed but I completely understand if you—”

“She stayed over the night of the wedding,” Christian interrupted.

“How the hell do you know that? We were so careful.” Luke realized he was being deliberately sidetracked and his throat closed up.

“Kezia saw two pairs of footprints in the grass,” Christian continued as though he hadn't spoken. “So are you two serious?”

“No,” said Luke. “She doesn't like my pushy friends.” It was tough to keep the emotion out of his voice, but he managed it.

There was a muffled conversation between Jordan and his bride. “Kate thinks it's serious,” he said when he came back on the line. “And her instincts are pretty good.”

Luke knew it was useless to argue—about anything. “Okay, we're agreed. I'll submit a new application.”

“Yep, we have a consensus, all right,” Christian said. “We all think you should keep the mayor.”

 

L
IZ INTENDED
to be coolly self-possessed when she saw Luke for their swimming lesson at 6:00 a.m. Bumping into him in the council foyer at three, however, threw her into a tizzy. “What are you doing here?”

Too late she heard the accusation in her tone. Her colleagues looked at her in surprise, and she pasted a smile on her face. Thank God she rarely blushed.

“Dropping off an application,” Luke said easily, a gleam in his eyes. “You don't get rid of me that easy.”

Liz felt a scorching rush of heat flush her whole body.

“Councillor Maxwell—” casually Luke turned to the older man “—I hear you shot a hole in one last week?”

Beaming, Maxwell launched into a stroke-by-stroke account, which immediately halved the group, and Liz had privacy to pull herself together.

Luke interrupted Maxwell. “Much as I'd love to hear more about the course conditions that day, I should be getting back to camp.” His expression was wry. “We're a supervisor short for kayaking and I've been volunteered. Mayor Light?” His tone was courteous but the amusement was still there. “Can I have a minute of your time outside?”

“I'm due in a meeting.”

“It won't take long.”

Convinced that everybody was staring, Liz followed him out.

“Relax, no one cares,” Luke murmured as he opened the door for her.

Glancing back, she saw that he was right. Only Maxwell and Bray remained, still talking golf scores.

They faced each other on the broad steps. “If you react like this every time you see me in public, you'll blurt out a full confession before a week's up.”

“Can you tell I was always the kid who got caught?”

“Except we didn't do anything wrong.” He smiled uncertainly. “Did we?”

Liz's guilt centered on hurting Kirsty and neglecting her duties. But Luke himself? “No regrets,” she said softly. Except perhaps that they wouldn't be doing it again. She looked away. “I need to get back.”

There was a short pause. “I might be a little late tonight,” Luke said. “I've been roped into staying for dinner again at camp.”

Of course. The kids had arrived yesterday. Caught up in her own troubles, she'd forgotten. “How's it going?” Muscles rippled in Luke's biceps as he raked a hand through his hair, and she squashed an impulse to touch him.

“I'm getting sucked into the vortex.” He grimaced. “And if you think dealing with Snowy's hard, you should meet Moana. I could do with your advice on handling bossy girls.”

“You handled me okay.” Her voice was too husky. What the hell was wrong with her?

Luke's eyes darkened. “Are you flirting with me, Mayor Light?”

She shook her head. “That would be foolhardy…under the circumstances.”

“Yes, it would. I can probably keep my hands off you if you're resolved, but if you're ambivalent…”

“I'm not.” She lifted her chin, hoping it would straighten her backbone, and looked at him. Immediately heat flared between them, the memory of their intimacy. Their need.

Luke smiled. “That's settled then.”

Weakly she tried to protest. “Luke, I—”

“If you don't want me to seduce you tonight, Liz, don't come.”

“That's not fair. You know there's only a week left until the mayoral swim.”

He shrugged. “You should have thought of that before you started dithering—”

Now
her backbone chose to straighten. “I don't dither!”

“I guess it's an age thing.”

As she gasped in outrage, Snowy came around the corner of the council building. With difficulty, Liz schooled her expression. “You know from experience, Luke, that the submission process takes twenty-one days.”

He folded his arms, the very picture of a disgruntled ratepayer. “At which point council asks for more information and they're off the hook for
another
twenty-one days.”

“Ridiculous, isn't it?” Snowy said as he drew abreast, pressing an election pamphlet into Luke's hand. “And I promise that when I'm mayor there'll be a review of procedure.”

“Which will drag on for two years,” said Liz tartly, “cost thousands and tell us what we already know—we're underresourced.”

Kindly, Snowy patted her shoulder. “You give up if you want to, Liz.” With a wink at Luke he continued up the stairs.

Liz turned on Luke. “Don't you dare smile.”

“You have to admire his gall. What are you countering with?”

She allowed herself a smidgen of smugness. “My ‘invest in the community' initiatives will blow his out of the water.”

“I don't know…” Luke scanned the pamphlet “His sound pretty good. A new community center and hall with an on-site crèche.”

Liz snatched the pamphlet out of his hand and read it in disbelief before crumbling it into a ball. “That bastard.”

“I can't believe I once thought you were repressed,” Luke commented. “Go get him, killer.”

She stormed into Snowy's office and threw the crumpled flyer on the desk. “You stole my ideas.”

He looked at her, amused, over steepled fingers. “You don't have a patent on caring, Liz. Of course I have a social policy.”

Smoothing out the paper, Liz read aloud. “‘Improved channels of communication between community-group representatives and council…' It's almost word for word.”

“Now, how could I know that?” he said reasonably. “Your manifesto hasn't been released yet.”

It was supposed to be distributed through a letter-box drop tonight. Except now it would sound as if she was parroting Snowy.

Liz slammed her palms on his desk. “You promised me a clean campaign!”