by Karina Bliss
“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!”
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”
“Snowy, you don’t give a damn about pensioners and young families.”
“I’ll be a pensioner myself in three years. I was twenty when I started a family and now I have grandchildren to keep me in touch with young people’s concerns. As I keep telling you, Liz,” he reminded her gently, “there’s no substitute for personal experience.”
“Which is why,” she countered, “I can name every community group that uses the center. I can tell you what their current issues are, I can tell you who their key volunteers are. I can even tell you which drawer in the kitchen they keep their clean bloody tea towels. You don’t know that, do you?”
“No,” he admitted, “but I will before the public meeting. And on the subject of kitchens, if you can’t stand the heat…”
Not trusting herself to speak, Liz left his office and rang Kirsty. “Pull the pamphlet, we’ll have to rework it tonight.” She told her what Snowy had done, enjoying Kirsty’s colorful annihilation of Snowy’s character.
“Thanks, I needed that. So I’ll see you after Harriet’s gone to bed?”
“Sure. Listen, how about we rattle Snowy’s cage with some door-to-door canvasing in his immediate neighborhood?” Kirsty suggested.
“Good idea.”
Liz texted a message to Luke, asking if they could reschedule the lesson for the following morning, grateful for the reprieve. Almost immediately, her cell beeped an incoming message.
Cn do 6am. Xx Lke.
He’d never included kisses before.
For a split second she considered sending some back.
Liz sat down and put her head in her hands. She’d always been proud of her willpower, easily saying no to another piece of cake or a third glass of wine—secretly pitying those who were subject to their passions.
Now she knew what real temptation was. And the six-foot-three devil with the hell bod and heavenly smile had made it clear he wouldn’t be kneeling alongside her while she prayed for self-restraint.
Opening her diary, Liz counted the days left until the swim challenge. Six. And this would be the second consecutive day she hadn’t been in a pool. She’d advanced to synchronizing her arm movements and breathing, but she still couldn’t sustain a crawl more than fifty meters. And she needed twice that by next week.
Retreat wasn’t an option.
Setting the alarm on her watch, Liz gave herself permission to panic for five minutes. After Harry died, she’d used the technique to drag herself out of self-pity and the habit had s
tuck. The alarm beeped. Steeling her jaw, she got back to work.
Tomorrow she’d figure what to do about Luke. Today there were other fires to put out.
LUKE HAD EVERY intention of seducing Liz but, when he opened his front door the next morning, he saw at a glance that it wouldn’t be today.
“How much sleep did you get last night?”
“Four hours.”
Her hair was untidy—unusual for Liz—and the jacket of her summer weight tracksuit was unzipped, revealing the lime swimsuit underneath. A hanger of work clothes trailed off one shoulder and she carried her sports bag as though it held bricks.
He took it. “Tell me you ate last night.”
Yawning, she stumbled into the house. “Kirsty ordered pizza.”
Like that meant anything. Closing the door behind her, he followed her to the pool. “What about this morning?”
“Can’t swim on a full stomach.” She fumbled gracelessly out of her clothes, shivering in the slight chill of morning. “Let’s do this.”
“To hell with the swimming lesson.” Picking up a towel, Luke wrapped it firmly around her shoulders. “I’m feeding you, then you’re phoning in sick and going to bed. To sleep,” he clarified when he felt her shoulders stiffen.
They slumped again. “Can’t. Time’s running out. Too much to do.”
He resisted the urge to shake her. “You can’t even form a coherent sentence, woman.”
“Here’s one. I’d rather be a ditherer than a nagger.” Shrugging off the towel she jumped into the pool, making sure she splashed him.
Flicking water out of his eyes, Luke smiled.
“Fine,” he growled when she surfaced. “We’ll do the lesson. But you’re not leaving before you’ve eaten breakfast.”
He dragged off his wet T-shirt but stayed out of the pool. It was the only way he could keep his hands off her. Neither of them had time for an affair. It didn’t matter. He’d seen the chink of indecision; that was enough for now. Management strategies could come later.
She mistimed her stroke and stood up, breasts rising and falling as she caught her breath. Her frustration was almost palpable.
“Come over to the side,” he said.
He turned her around and, sitting with his feet dangling in the water, massaged her tight shoulders.
“I’m worried that I’m not going to make it,” she admitted.
“Learning to swim is like learning to drive. Easy to learn the skills in isolation, but it’s putting them together that’s hard.” His fingers teased out the knots. “Believe it or not, you’re close to a breakthrough. All you have to do is keep practicing until it becomes automatic.”
Liz leaned into those clever fingers, feeling the tension in her shoulders slowly ease. Almost as seductive as Luke’s touch was his support. She closed her eyes and through the bliss of being stroked, felt her irritation flare. In one night this man had recolored her world with passion, laughter and excitement. Now she craved this from him.
“Relax.” His warm breath on the back of her neck sent another shiver of sensory pleasure through her body. “I promise you’ll be ready in time.”
“Telling me what I want to hear,” she said lightly. “That’s a great seduction technique.”
His fingers stilled on her wet shoulders. “I’ll get breakfast.”
Liz placed her hands over his. “That came out wrong. I’m not suggesting you’d lie to get me into bed.” She leaned her head back against his chest to look up at him, aware that she was making herself vulnerable. “I’m using humor to try to minimize how your touch makes me feel, something else I obviously need to practice.”
Luke tightened his hold. “And how do I make you feel?”
For too long she’d been simply existing. She couldn’t go back to the half life she’d been living since Harry died. Liz turned around and the edge of the pool dug into her ribs as she leaned forward, pausing inches from his mouth. “Alive,” she murmured. And kissed him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FEEL OF HIM was like coming home.
Shocked, Liz started to pull back, but Luke cupped her face in his hands and deepened the kiss. The flare of passion was instantaneous, searing. Her limbs grew heavy, her heartbeat rapid.
Desperately, she wrapped her arms around his neck, absorbing his vitality, needing it, needing him. She’d attributed their fiery lovemaking the other night to celibacy. Thought sex would calm down now and become manageable. Instead…
She broke the kiss. “We should talk about this first.”
“I can multitask.” Slowly, Luke peeled her wet swimsuit down to her waist, his intense gaze as effective as thirty minutes of foreplay with her late husband.
Shaken, Liz crossed her arms protectively across her bare breasts. “Talk about how to manage this,” she insisted.
Luke looked at her folded arms. “Is this leading up to domination fantasies?”
“No!”
“Hey, I’m open-minded.” Even his tone was seductive. “I’ll tie you up—you tie me up.”
“No,” she whispered, less convincingly.
His eyes darkened. “Liz…” Water spilled onto the pavers as he pulled her out of the pool and onto his lap. She didn’t resist. His skin was warm and dry, his tongue wet and hot. Not a breath of air stirred the subtropical heat.
Her hands traced the contours of dense, supple muscle as his mouth closed on her breast and the rasp of his jaw on her chilled skin was a sensual torture.
Restlessly she repositioned herself to give him better access while another part of her brain whispered, Rules!
His hands skimmed her body, bypassing the swimsuit bunched at her waist to caress the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
Dazed, Liz wondered if his bumblebee tie was handy for the tying-up part and the outrageous thought snapped her back into lucidity. She struggled upright. “We keep our affair secret,” she insisted.
Luke slid a finger under the wet Lycra and she shivered under the light scrape of calluses across already her already swollen flesh. “I love your secrets,” he said hoarsely and started to stroke.
Using every last ounce of willpower, she stilled his hand. “About the rules,” she said desperately.
“I like to break them.” Gently, Luke pushed her down onto the towels by the pool’s edge, pulled off her swimsuit and replaced his fingers with his mouth.
Liz closed her eyes and the sun pulsed red on her lids, matching the throb of her blood. Red for stop, red for passion, red for a flagrant, addictive eroticism. The sun-baked tiles radiated heat through the damp, soft towel under her back.
Tension built until her whole body thrummed with it, until the plaintive cry of seagulls and the faint shouts of children playing in the lagoon faded. Until the world telescoped to what Luke was doing to her under the hot sun. But she couldn’t lose control here.
Biting her lip, Liz opened her eyes. Reflected in the glass of the ranch sliders, a wanton sprawled half-naked on a crimson towel while a dark-haired man pleasured her. She gasped as her body convulsed.
When Liz came back to earth, her head was cradled on Luke’s muscled bicep and he was stroking her wet hair. “Okay?”
“No, dammit.” She pushed up on one elbow. How dare he look like a cat, comfortably stretched in the sun when she needed a decompression chamber? “We’re supposed to discuss rules first.”
“No running with scissors?” Lightly he scratched her back. “No harming animals in our sexual experiments.”
“You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I figured that was one of your rules.”
She narrowed her eyes. Leaning forward, Liz used her tongue to capture the last water droplet, still sparkling on his navel. Under her lips, his muscle tensed. Emboldened, she followed the drops wherever they led.
They led down.
She made a leisurely exploration with her mouth before glancing up. The teasing light had left Luke’s eyes, replaced by a savage hunger that reignited her
own.
Wordlessly they stripped bare. Their damp bodies touched, skin drying quickly until they were sliding smoothly against each other, mouths and fingers exploring, instinctively avoiding the final joining. The sensual web spun tighter.
Rules. “At any time one of us can break it off with no hard—” Liz gasped as Luke moved between her legs.
“Hard?” His voice was gravel.
“Feelings…no feelings.” Senses heightened, she could smell the freshly watered garden mixed with the jasmine and frangipani, the chlorine on her skin. It was too much. “Luke!”
He held himself above her on strong arms, magnificent and fierce, then his eyes cleared. “It’s okay, Fred, I get it. No demands except sensual.”
She took him into her body and watched his self-control fracture.
It made her lose her own.
MEN WERE THE ONES supposed to fall asleep straight after sex. But the mayor slumbered, sprawled in an untidy heap of limbs across his chest. Tenderly, Luke pushed back Liz’s damp hair and her brow twitched in a momentary frown.
One arm holding her limp form in place, he reached behind him and carefully draped a towel over the chair so her face was in shade. Then he lay back, relaxed and curiously at peace.
The sun crept over the roofline, bringing welcome shade. Finger-combing the tangles in Liz’s hair, Luke thought lazily that he could stay like this forever. His hand stilled.
Carefully, he rolled the mayor onto her back, covered her with a towel and went to make them both breakfast.
“YOU LOOK DIFFERENT.”
Neville dropped the steaks on the barbecue and studied Liz through a haze of meat-sizzling smoke. “Happier.”
“Of course she’s happier. We’re finally leading the polls.” Kirsty patted her husband’s rear as she carried a bowl of potato salad to the outdoor table where Harriet already sat in her high chair, gnawing on a chop bone.
“And less tense,” Neville added thoughtfully.
Unable to bear his continued scrutiny, Liz snatched up a serviette and wiped away the flecks of greasy charcoal from Harriet’s rosebud mouth. The baby growled and clutched her bone. “Mine! Iz!”
