Mr. Unforgettable (5 page)

“Let's try a facedown starfish float,” he suggested. “Don't bother about blowing bubbles this time. Just get comfortable lying with your face in the water.”

He didn't laugh until she was semisubmerged and couldn't hear him. He was having fun.

His sense of superiority lasted until she started thrashing him at chess.

A
MONTH LATER
, the gold wedding ring on Liz's finger caught the morning sun as she leaned forward in her deck chair, trying to hide her rising excitement. Hand poised above her intended target, she waited.

Only when Luke frowned as he awoke to his predicament did she slide her queen gently into position. “Check.”

Across the chessboard his eyes met hers and her breath caught at the gleam of battle in those depths before it was obscured by a sweep of black lashes as he returned his attention to the game.

Luke leaned forward and dropped his forearms on the table that separated them, throwing the muscles of torso and arms into sharp relief. Throat suddenly dry, Liz reached for the dew-touched glass beside her and took a sip.

If anything, her physical awareness of him had intensified, but fortunately she'd got better at hiding it. Her attraction to Harry had been cerebral. Luke's self-assured sexiness was potent and…distracting.

In the distance, the bells of Saint Aloysius called the faithful to Sunday mass and Liz felt the loss of all the things she'd stopped believing in after Harry died. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was barely 9:00 a.m.

With elections and the camp's trial run drawing closer, these sessions were usually jammed in at odd hours, but today they had the luxury of time.

Luke's hand crossed the board. A rook entered the fray—the king was safe. Not only safe, she noticed with dismay, but poised to counterattack. “Check,” he said.

Glancing up, Liz caught the last flash of a grin and realized she'd been lulled into a false sense of security. “About time you made the game interesting,” she said pleasantly.

Ice tumbled into her glass as Luke refilled it from the water jug. “You don't fool me.”

That was a problem, Liz thought. Because she had to trust Luke in the water, she instinctively trusted him out of it. Except then he'd do or say something that reminded her of her first assessment. Dangerous.

“So when am I giving you a camp tour?”

Liz kept her gaze on the board. “Let me check my diary.”

“Weren't you supposed to do that last week?”

Her queen took his. “What I love about chess,” she said, “is that while the king's the most important piece on the board, the queen is the most powerful.”

Luke tipped his glass for an ice cube, which he crunched between strong white teeth. “The queen may be powerful but she can't mate the opposing king without help.” He took her knight. “Speaking of allies, how's the election campaign going?”

“Bray and Maxwell have thrown their weight behind Snowy.”

“They're like two pilot fish trying to avoid being eaten by a great white shark.”

Liz laughed. “If you're trying to distract me, it won't work.” She moved her bishop to cut off the black king's last means of retreat.

“I'm the one who needs to concentrate.” Luke bent forward over the board and she took the opportunity to study him, a smile hovering on her lips. Their growing friendship had been an unexpected bonus.

The man needed a shave. His rugged jaw was shadowed with a weekend's growth. Tendrils of black hair, sun-dried after an earlier sea swim, stirred in the warm breeze and his eyebrows were touched white with sea salt.

She experienced a sudden shocking urge to push his sun-warmed body into the chair and kiss that firm mouth until it softened under hers. To run her hands down the taut muscle of his shoulders and—

His gaze suddenly lifted to hers and awareness tightened between them like a bow. No, she thought dazedly. No, that's impossible. Missing sex was one thing, doing something about it…She wasn't ready. Reaching up for the sunglasses on her head, she slipped them down to hide her confusion.

Luke's biceps stretched taut as he leaned back and rested an arm across the back of his chair. “I think we have a stalemate.”

 

L
UKE COULD TELL
by the blush staining the mayor's cheeks that she knew he wasn't talking about chess.

But Liz wasn't ready to discuss their growing attraction. “We'll call it a draw, then.” Retying her crimson sarong more firmly around her bathing suit, she stood up, barely glancing at her wrist before she said, “Goodness, is that the time?”

“You took your watch off to go swimming,” he reminded her.

All credit to the mayor; she rallied. “My inner clock tells me when it's time to go.”

Lazily, Luke pushed to his feet. “Aren't you lucky to be so attuned to your body.” Her startled gaze shot to his and he smiled innocently. Oh yeah, he recognized the signs of someone desperate to get laid. He'd lived with them for months.

The nervous energy, the almost obsessive focus on training in the search for physical exhaustion. Liz's build was naturally athletic, and he could already see swim-specific toning in her arms and legs, a tightening in her glutes. Hell, who was he kidding?

The mayor had always been desirable, but her disinterest had made his interest academic. Luke didn't need to chase women; they chased him. But for some reason Sleeping Beauty was stirring—he'd felt the heat of her gaze on his body—and he wanted to be the guy who kissed the reluctant princess awake.

Their swimming lessons had become a torture. Every time Liz bent over to pick up her towel he knew exactly where her tan would change to creamy white across her bottom. A glimpse of her cleavage and his mouth went dry. He felt like a teenage boy in the throes of first lust—but was far better at hiding it.

Unlike Liz, who seemed to be in a permanent state of shock at finding herself prey to such base desires. Her naïveté turned him on, made him want to take her to bed and find out what else shocked her.

When she'd left he returned their glasses to the kitchen, then opened the dining-room doors to the sea deck.

The only movement on the dunes leading down to the beach was the swaying of spiky, cotton-tailed grasses in the early sea breeze. It would grow with the heat of the day until by midafternoon it shook them like rattles.

Since regaining his single status, Luke's sexual encounters might have scratched an itch, but that was all. He'd been married a long time and casual sex didn't sit well with him. He liked Liz and he was hot for her—a friendship with benefits seemed the obvious next step. Both of them needed to safeguard their public images in Beacon Bay, which meant any affair had to be conducted discreetly, with someone they could trust.

And that was the problem. Luke didn't entirely trust her.

Elizabeth Light made time for things that were important to her—like these swimming lessons—and could recite her appointment schedule for the next month. Yet every time he suggested a tour of the camp, she made up some excuse or pretended she'd forgotten. It contradicted her public support, made him suspicious.

But there was another, more important reason. She'd brought Harriet to lessons with her a couple of times and he'd seen how much she loved that baby. She probably wanted another husband, one to father the children she'd never had with Harry. Luke wasn't that man.

Since his separation, Luke counted the cost of every liaison with a woman, and this one was priced too high. With a sigh of resignation, he reached for his running shoes.

 

L
IZ WAS SO TIRED
she forgot to turn her mobile phone off during an afternoon council meeting and the theme tune to
Rocky I
interrupted Councilor Bray's monologue on item nine—approving security cameras on the council building to discourage graffiti.

The tinny melody rang out again. Those who recognized the tune started to laugh. With arms that ached from daily swimming practice, Liz fumbled through her bag, silently cursing her campaign manager.

Kirsty had insisted on reprogramming the phone's ring tone to encourage Liz to think like a winner. Feeling like a complete idiot, Liz switched it off, but not before she saw Luke's number flash up. “Sorry about that,” she murmured, then took advantage of the interruption. “And thank you, Councillor Bray, for that useful summary on modern youth.”

“But I haven't fin—”

With the ease of long practice, she cut him short, restated the notice of motion and took a vote. “Surveillance cameras approved. Meeting closed—” she glanced at the clock above the portrait of the queen “—at 2:55 p.m.” As soon as she got the chance, Liz stepped into the corridor and returned Luke's call.

“Liz, I have to cancel our session today.”

The stress in his voice was almost palpable as they rescheduled for nine-thirty the following night.

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” he said bluntly. “Most of my staff has gone home with food poisoning. Social Services' final inspection is tomorrow and we're nowhere near ready.” She didn't have to see him to know that he was pacing.

“Call for volunteers.”

“I've put the word out, but too many locals are still ambivalent about this facility.”

They weren't the only ones. Liz's hand grew clammy on the phone. All she had to do was say goodbye, hang up. But she'd never been any good at looking the other way. “I'll come,” she croaked, “for a couple of hours.”

“Thanks.” With that casual acceptance, he rang off. See, Liz reassured herself, it's no big deal. But she clasped one hand around her other wrist like a frightened child. You're an adult now, she reminded herself, deal with it.

Back in the boardroom, Snowy canvassed for more allies. With elections less than a month away, Liz was falling behind in public-opinion polls because, as a frustrated Kirsty kept pointing out, she kept doing her job instead of schmoozing like everyone else.

“Excuse me,” she said. The others stopped talking and looked around, Snowy impatiently.

Liz relayed Luke's predicament and asked for volunteers.

“I've got council business to attend to,” Maxwell said. Only an hour earlier she'd heard him book a tee at the local golf club. Others immediately seized his excuse.

“I completely understand. Of course, council business takes priority over self-promotion.”

Snowy's gaze sharpened. “What are you talking about?”

“The
Beacon Bay Chronicle
showing us all pitching in, getting the camp ready for the underprivileged kiddies.” Liz picked up her briefcase. “But if you're too—”

“The
Chronicle's
doing a story?” Maxwell interrupted. He smoothed his comb-over.

She crossed her fingers behind her back. “It's a suggestion.” Which she'd make as soon as she had the privacy to call the editor.

Everyone suddenly found a reason to leave immediately until only Snowy lingered.

“Why would you share the glory…I can't figure it out.” Their relationship had deteriorated over recent weeks.

“That's because my motives are pure,” Liz said sweetly.

“Look deeper,” he suggested.

Stopping for gas on the way to camp, Liz damned Snowy's acuity. Morally, it was the right thing to support the camp, but only her friendship with Luke had pushed her into confronting her phobia.

And, heaven help her, not all her thoughts of that man were pure.

Pulling out her cell phone, Liz dialed the editor of the
Beacon Bay Chronicle
, and for the second time that day crossed her fingers. A third-generation family business, the newspaper was so firmly entrenched that no rival had ever survived. The monopoly allowed the Swann owners to operate according to their own idiosyncratic code.

The current editor, Josephine Swann, was a thirty-year-old Katherine Hepburn. “I won't stab you in the back,” she'd told Liz at their first interview. “I always attack from the front.” Liz had a couple of scars to remind her never to mistake their mutual regard for friendship.

Fortunately Jo loved the idea of photographing politicians doing manual labor.

“I need a new angle for the weekly electoral countdown,” she said. “Incidentally, you do realize that you're the only politician who hasn't been hounding me for coverage? Does that mean you're confident of winning?”

“Oh, no, you don't. I'm not giving you any reason to use the headline Mayor Declares Competition Sucks.”

Jo laughed. “You're getting too clever for me. See you there.”

“Make it as late as you can, will you? Let's get some work out of them first.”

While she waited for her gas tank to fill, Liz washed the sedan's windscreen, trying to distract herself from the impending ordeal.

“Beth?”

She dropped the squeegee back into the water bucket and turned around automatically. And found herself looking at a stranger, a tall, slim brunette in cutoff shorts and a baggy pink T-shirt.

Then the name the woman had used registered and she hid her shock under a polite smile.

“I'm sorry…. What did you call me?”