by Karina Bliss
The rasp of his unshaven jaw brushed her cheek, sending a visceral shiver down her spine, then his mouth brushed hers.
Luke wreathed his fingers through her hair—champagne under the lamplight—and lightly pulled, exposing her throat to his kisses. She moaned. “There, yes, there.”
Her responsiveness was driving him wild. Even in the throes of lust that had propelled him into an early marriage, he’d never experienced this primal urge to possess a woman.
Sex, he reassured himself, reveling in the feel of her skin against his, her vanilla-musk scent, her taste. It’s just sex.
In passion, she was sloe-eyed, her irises indistinguishable from the pupils. Liz moaned again and Luke stopped caring what it was. He was in thrall to her body—silky skin, way too soft for a thick-skinned politician, curvy hips made to hold and touch-sensitive breasts. Moving his hand lower, he teased her until she was writhing.
“Get a condom, Luke. I can’t take any more.”
He tried to enter her slowly, conscious of how long it had been for her, but she wrapped her legs around him with a need that made him lose his self-control and he drove deep, almost savagely.
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Like that.”
Sex had always been a competitive sport to Luke, except the goal was to come in second. He was never so caught up in his own pleasure that he didn’t satisfy his partner first, but Liz wouldn’t let him be gentle or slow.
For the first time in his life he let a woman inflame him past caring into scorching release. In the aftermath, their torsos, slick with sweat, rose and fell against each other as they gasped for air.
They rolled apart, onto their backs, and let the overhead fan dry their sweat. When his breathing returned to normal, Luke turned his head and looked sheepishly at Liz. “I have no idea if you came or not.”
Still in profile, her lips curved into a smile. “If I say no, can we do it again?”
Weakly he started to laugh and hauled her back into his arms. She was as boneless as a rag doll.
For long moments they lay in contented silence, her head on his chest. “Your heart can beat as fast as a normal person’s,” she said smugly.
“Lady, you’d kill a normal person.”
As soon as he’d said it, Harry was an unspoken presence in the room. Shit. Cursing his big mouth, Luke stroked her hair, wondering if he would make things better or worse by saying more. As he agonized about it, something hot and wet trickled down his chest. Tears.
“Liz, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not what you think.” She dried her eyes on a corner of the sheet. “I thought I’d feel guilty afterward. I don’t. I’m so relieved.”
He relaxed, realizing he hadn’t hurt her. But then he couldn’t let the moment pass—couldn’t resist teasing her. Pulling away, he threw some uncertainty into his voice. “Are you saying it was…just sex?”
She sat up to look at him, the crazy woman, worrying about hurting his feelings. Kezia had mentioned Liz’s concern. “Luke, I—”
He grinned. “Gotcha.”
AT 5:00 A.M. LUKE was making her bacon and eggs. They were both starving. He sent Liz out to the vegetable garden for parsley and she paused to watch the fields expand into view under the rising sun, pulling his jacket closer around her bare shoulders. The dawn sky was the color of Luke’s eyes…a soft, fresh gray.
He cooked in old jeans, low around his lean hips, and nothing else, and she couldn’t resist leaning against all that solid muscle as she told him how she liked her eggs. Over easy. He turned them with a spatula; with his free hand he hauled her close.
She kissed his bare shoulder, warm and still damp from his shower. The pan forgotten, Luke nuzzled her neck, lifting her hair to reach the shiver spot he’d discovered last night. It scared Liz how quickly he’d learned her sensual secrets. They ended up eating their eggs hard and didn’t care.
“Everyone will be up soon.” She swallowed the last of her coffee. “I have to go.”
Nodding, Luke rose from the breakfast table. She liked the way he respected her need for privacy. He’d also been careful to retrieve her shoes before they’d gone to sleep.
To Liz’s relief, there’d been no dreams. Maybe, she thought as they walked across the dew-laden grass to her car, because Luke had kept waking her up to make love. Still expecting guilt or regret, she probed her feelings. Nothing. Their friendship had stopped the experience from being sordid. She linked arms with him, enjoying their physical closeness while she could.
At the car he lifted her hand and kissed it in a strangely old-fashioned gesture. “Will I see you again, Fred?”
For a moment, the happiness in his expression made her want to be reckless. But that would be foolhardy and she was a sensible woman. Still, her hand tightened instinctively on his. “No.”
“Hell,” he said lightly. “You accepted the offer to accompany that pampered shih tzu on a six-month cruise around the Med, didn’t you?”
Releasing his hand, Liz dumped her bag in the trunk and turned on her cell phone. Ten messages. “What can I say? FrouFrou won’t let anyone else touch her cuticles. We sail at eight tomorrow night.”
“About the time I take my next swimming lesson with the mayor.”
She hesitated. “Don’t mention me, will you? I have a feeling she’d disapprove.”
His eyes weren’t dawn gray anymore, they were as reflective as a mirror. “If that’s what you want.”
“Don’t you?”
“You have more to lose than I do.” For some reason an image of him standing alone in the garden yesterday flickered into her mind, then his lips brushed hers in a farewell kiss that was almost impersonal. She didn’t like it. Catching his shirt collar she kept him close, deepening the kiss until they were both lost in it.
While she still could, Liz released him. “So you don’t forget Fred,” she said unsteadily and got into her car. It smelled of reports and seat leather and responsibility. She forced herself not to glance in the rearview mirror as she drove away.
WHEN 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.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LUKE 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.
Commenting on the weekend’s graffiti rampage, Beacon Bay Resident and Ratepayers president, Delores Jackson, raised an interesting question: “If we can’t control our own hooligans, what on earth are we doing importing delinquents from Auckland?”
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.
Scratch the surface and all the reservations are still there. Looks like Luke Carter still has his work cut out for him.
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.”
LIZ 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.
