Mr. Unforgettable (12 page)

“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 stuck. 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.

 

L
UKE 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.

T
HE 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.

 

M
EN 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.

 

“Y
OU 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!”

“Kirsty's right, it's been a good week.” Liz hoped Nev attributed the flush in her cheeks to standing beside the barbecue. “Having the community groups endorsing my candidacy has made a real difference.” It had been Luke's idea to approach them. “Whatever Snowy says, you're the one who's been working with them.” And he'd been right.

“No, it's more than that.” Nev turned the steaks. “You're getting regular—” Liz choked on her wine and started to cough, and Kirsty leaped forward to thump her on the back.

“Regular…?” Kirsty prompted her husband when Liz waved her off.

Liz stared at Neville though watering eyes. “Exercise,” he finished, putting the steaks on a serving platter. “Haven't you noticed how toned she's getting?”

Kirsty stood back and took a critical look at Liz, then prodded her upper arm. “He's right. When on earth do you find the time…and what are you doing checking out your stepmother-in-law?”

“I'm a guy, we notice these things. And she's not my stepmother-in-law, she's my friend.” Under his accountant's crewcut his dark blue eyes were kind.

“I need to be fit for the swim challenge,” Liz managed to say.

“Well, I hope you don't go swimming alone.” Kirsty handed her the green salad. “Damn, I forgot the dressing.” She left the table and went inside.

Neville dished Liz a steak, passed it over. “That explains why I see the mayoral car parked in the cul-de-sac near the lagoon sometimes when I'm out jogging with the local running group.”

She tried to think of something to say. Couldn't.

“Others in the club have noticed it, too…. Let me pour you some more wine.”

Confused, Liz looked at her empty glass. She had no recollection of drinking it.

“You may not know this,” Neville refilled his own glass, “but the salt in a sea breeze can cause rust even over short periods. Park a little farther back in Glendon Close.”

“Nev…I…”

“To happiness.” He tapped his glass to hers. “Now tell me if you think I've overcooked this steak.”

Driving home later, Liz questioned her sanity. A thirty-five-year-old public servant needed a cat, not a sizzling affair.

The irresponsible part of her mind, the part that had hijacked Liz's brain lately, blew a raspberry.

Frankly, only a grown woman could handle an affair with a man like Luke. Remembering the kinky chess game they'd played last night, Liz nearly drove through a red light. In the nick of time, she slammed on her brakes and jolted back into the seat.

Another good reason to stop this madness.

Making love every night was suicidal given their crazy schedules. The light flashed green and she eased her foot off the brake. Yet she'd never been so full of energy. Tireless, if permanently light-headed.

And Luke's entrepreneurial expertise had proved an invaluable boon for her economic policy. “Oh, yeah,” she mocked herself, “you're sacrificing yourself for your constituents.”

Why couldn't she be serious about this? She was too giddy, too flippant, too…
reckless
. Even now, when Nev suspected.

And he doesn't
care
.

But Kirsty would. Which is why it was so important to…park where Nev suggested.

Oh, yeah, Lizzie, that's your solution
.

She pulled into her driveway. What was wrong with an affair between two consenting adults who'd pre-agreed on the rules? As long as she didn't love Luke, she didn't have to feel guilty or disloyal.

Or end the affair.

 

L
UKE SAT IN THE CAMP
cafeteria playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with a table of eight-year-olds.

Moana was due in his office after the lunch break for another telling-off by a dork, as she called it. Over the past four days she'd been in his office five times.

She wanted to be sent home, her teachers wanted her sent home, the kids wanted her sent home. Something in Luke couldn't do it.

The eight-year-olds were all looking at him with dubious expressions. “You've done rock for the last five goes,” one complained.

Luke unclenched his fist. “Sorry.” He changed to paper and was promptly cut to pieces by four pairs of scissors. Mustering concentration, he managed to score a point.

The game had been one of Liz's many ideas when he'd admitted he was out of his depth with the kids. They liked it, too—probably because he was so bad at it. “So scissors beats rock right?”

“Noooooooo!” Five little kids rolled their eyes and giggled. Okay, maybe he played it up sometimes. Lately he'd found himself getting involved whenever he could spare the time. On a practical level he wasn't needed very often, but there was always a child dying to share his or her excitement—or hanging back, needing encouragement.

And then there was Moana.

Unconsciously, his fist curled back into rock and was promptly smothered by three sheets of exuberant paper. The lone scissors looked nervous, and Luke patted her shoulder. “The others have already shut me down. You're safe.”

The bell rang and the noise level crescendoed as the kids scattered to their various activities. At the far table he saw Moana, a sullen blot on the landscape, sitting under Rosie's supervision.

“Okay, you two. Let's talk.”

In his office, Luke pulled his chair around next to the couch and studied Moana for a moment. Under his scrutiny, her scowl grew blacker, too big for such a small face.

“Rosie, can you tell me what happened this morning?”

“We were riding bikes around the bike trail, the next thing I knew, Moana threw herself on Ryan and Cody and starting punching them. Moana admits she started it.”

The girl gave her standard response. “This place sucks. I hate it and I want to go home.”

Rosie looked at Luke and shrugged helplessly.

They knew home was subsidized housing in South Auckland with an exhausted solo mum who was raising six kids on a meager government benefit. Moana was the eldest and her mother's main helper.

He'd phoned Moana's mother last night and the child she'd described wasn't the sulky, mean one sitting in front of him. “Your mum really wants you to have a holiday, here,” he said. “How do you think she'll feel if I send you home early?”

For a moment she didn't answer, then her eyes filled with tears. “Bad.”

Rosie straightened in her seat. It was the first time Moana had shown an emotion other than anger.