Mr. Unforgettable (13 page)

“But they laughed at me, them other kids, because I can't ride a bike.” Moana's scowl came back. “They said
everybody
knows how to ride a bike.”

“Do you have a bike?”

She shook her head.

“So, why would you know how to ride one?”

“But
everybody
has a bike, even if it's old.”

“The kids said that?” Rosie interjected.

Moana's answer was an angry sob.

“I never had a bike,” said Luke.

“You're lying,” the child accused him. “Everyone knows you're rich. You would'a had lots of bikes, hundreds even.”

“Okay, I did get a bike when I was twelve,” he conceded. “That was the year my swim coach fostered me into his family, which was much, much better than some old bike.”
For a while
. “But you've had a family all along, haven't you? How many brothers and sisters do you have again?”

“Five.”

“You're so lucky. You know, I think you have the most of any kid here.”

“Joseph has six,” Moana said. “
And
a bike.”

“Yes, but Joseph is the youngest so he probably gets bossed around.”

Moana brightened. “Yeah, he
does
.”

“How about I take you out biking after dinner tonight,” Rosie suggested. “Teach you when there's no one around?”

“Nah.” The small shoulders slumped. “I got nothing to ride on at home.” Fiercely, Moana knuckled her eyes dry. “Dad hit us a lot, but if he was still around at least we'd have stuff and not be freaks.”

“One of my early foster dads smacked me around, too.” Luke kept his delivery as casual as Moana's. “So I understand why your mum sent your dad away. She wanted to protect you kids. And it's better, isn't it, even if you have less money for things like bikes.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she conceded after a moment's thought. “Dad did break my arm once.”

Rosie gasped and Luke sent her a warning glance.

“Tell you what. Let Rosie teach you to ride a bike and I'll buy you one to take home.”

In the process of wiping her nose on her sleeve, Moana stopped. Stared. Then her mouth started trembling and she hurled herself at him.

Instinctively he stopped her with a hand on her thin shoulder. Then realizing his error, he offered her a handshake. “No big deal, hey?”

Confused, Moana shook it. Rosie caught the child in a bear hug. “Go join your group now. I'll be there in a minute.” The kid ran as though she had wings on her feet.

For a minute the adults looked at each other silently.

“Why didn't I think of ringing her mother?” Rosie said.

“It wasn't my idea.”

Liz had suggested it. Her influence was as pervasive as the fragrance of the port-wine magnolia outside the open window behind him. He no longer asked her to visit the camp, but her keen interest implied it wouldn't be long before she did.

Rosie stood to leave, then hesitated. “Did Social Services find out about that foster dad who hit you?”

“Yeah, they prosecuted.” His mouth twisted. “Fortunately for both of us he died before I grew up.” Seeing the sympathy on her face, he added briskly, “It's okay, Rosie. I got over it.”

“Does running the camp help, Luke?”

He'd never dissected his philanthropy. As some of society's most vulnerable members, kids had seemed the obvious beneficiaries when he'd investigated setting up a charitable trust. Now Luke realized how personal his choice had been. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “It does.”

When Rosie had gone, Luke sat for a couple of minutes, thinking about Moana. He hadn't experiencing such a sense of achievement since he'd trail-blazed Triton Holdings with Jordan and Christian. He made a mental note to buy Liz some flowers as a thank-you and then grinned.

Somehow happiness had sneaked back into his life. He didn't trust it, he wouldn't rely on it—but he wasn't stupid enough to question it, either. He was simply going to enjoy it.

“H
I THERE
!”

He might not know the brunette standing on his doorstep with a vivacious smile and pink Vote Liz Light rosette, but Luke sure as hell recognized her baby.

Harriet looked up from her stroller and brightened. “Ook.”

“I'm Kirsty Carrington,” said her mother, “and I'm campaigning on behalf of Liz Light. Were you aware that she's restanding for the mayoralty?”

“Yeah, I'm a great supporter.”

“Ook!” Harriet squirmed to get out.

“No, honey, stay there.” Kirsty dipped into her bag, handed Harriet a carton of juice and Luke a flyer. “Then you'll be interested to read her policy manifesto.” She handed over Liz's new pamphlet, the one he'd offered design advice on, but Luke couldn't concentrate because Harriet was looking at him with tragic brown eyes. Her lower lip started to tremble, and she began to wail.

“Oh, honey.” Kirsty took her out. “Sorry,” she said to Luke. “It's been a long morning.” She set Harriet down and the child toddled over to Luke and grabbed his legs.

“Up.”

With nothing for it, he swung her into his arms.

“That's amazing,” Kirsty said. “She's usually wary of strangers.” She stared at him, clearly impressed. “The rumors
are
true. Luke Carter is a babe magnet. I'm saying that because I have an ulterior motive in coming here.”

“You do?” For a moment he thought Liz might have confided in her, but he dismissed the idea. She was paranoid about Harry's daughter finding out about them. Harriet wriggled to get down and Luke set her on her feet. Immediately she pushed through his legs and trotted into the house.

“Harriet!” called her mother. “Come back.”

The tot answered her mother's summons by picking up speed.

Oh,
hell
! “I'll get her, you stay here.”

Luke strode after Harriet, saw her bypass the lounge and disappear into the spare bedroom where the toys were. Glancing through the glass ranch sliders toward the inner courtyard, he saw the surface of the pool still rippling but no sign of wet footprints. Liz's lime-green bathing suit lay where he'd pitched it earlier, in a damp heap on the concrete pavers.

They'd been enjoying a nude swimming lesson when the doorbell rung and he'd told her to stop panicking and stay put while he got rid of the caller.

“Did you find her?” Kirsty's voice immediately behind him made Luke jump. A beaming Harriet toddled back into view holding the red ball. “How on earth did she know where to find that?”

“She must have seen it from the front door.” Luke scooped up the baby, caught her mother by the elbow and started shepherding her out. He'd suddenly realized where Liz was.

“Nice pool. Oh!” Kirsty stopped dead. “Are these your swimming medals?” He still hadn't put them away since the wedding. They sat on the coffee table in the lounge, waiting to be polished and stored. “May I look?”

“Let me get them for you.”

But she was already in the lounge. “Wow, I've always wanted to see one of these up close.” Silently cursing, Luke followed her, positioning himself so that Kirsty had to face east, toward the sea views to talk to him. “They're amazing!”

Behind her, Liz's face broke the surface of the pool. She took a deep breath and went down again.

Harriet chortled “Iz.” They'd played this game before.

“She's not here, honey,” said Kirsty absently. She turned the medals over to read the backs. It seemed to take forever.

Luke waited until Liz came up for another breath. “I don't want to be rude but I've got a heap of work to do.”

“Of course.” Kirsty put the medals down.

Chortling, Harriet toddled over to the ranch sliders and banged on the glass. “Iz.”

Luke tucked her under his arm like a rugby ball and headed toward the front door.

To his relief, Kirsty followed. “I'm sure you've heard about the Mayoral Swim-Safe Challenge.”

“Once or twice.”

“I know it's two days' notice, but would you consider shooting the starting gun? It would be such a coup to have an Olympian involved…for the kids,” she added.

Luke had already intended to go. This way he'd be close enough to give Liz a few words of encouragement. “Happy to.”

“And Lizzy told me not to ask you.” Kirsty's smile was triumphant. “She said you'd be too busy with the camp.”

Uh-oh. He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should check my schedule first.” But this was an opportunity to do some community bonding in the wake of Wednesday's article.

An idea occurred to him. “Would the coordinator be open to some Camp Chance kids joining in?” Kirsty looked doubtful and he deftly turned the screws. “That would make it a lot easier for me to say yes.”

She rallied. “The more the merrier.”

After they'd left, Luke went back into the house and followed the wet footprints through the lounge to the bathroom door. It was locked.

“Do I need a password?” he asked through the keyhole.

The door flew open; Liz was already dressed. “This isn't funny, Luke. That was too close.”

“Is telling her so bad?”

“Yes.” Liz hunted for her shoes. “She wouldn't understand.”

“She just asked me to get involved in the Mayoral Swim-Safe Challenge.” Watching her carefully, he caught the flicker of dismay in her dark brown eyes. “I was right. You don't want me to.”

She stepped into her high heels. “It's safer if we avoid each other in public.”

“As far as I know, wives aren't expected to throw themselves on their husband's funeral pyre in this country.”

“You think I'm being silly. So does Neville…Kirsty's husband.”

In front of the hall mirror, she rolled her hair into a French twist, caught it with a fancy clip. “I don't know how to explain it to people who weren't living here when Harry was alive. The town loved him. I mean, really loved him. Did you know there's even a statue of him planned for the botanical gardens? Seeing me play the merry widow…well, it won't wash, Luke. Especially when I'm playing with…” Her voice trailed off. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“Me,” he finished.

She turned and stroked his arm. “Unfortunately the graffiti incident has stirred everybody up again.”

A sense of unease temporarily diverted Luke from his personal concerns. “When I met you at the council building on Monday, I was dropping off another Resource Consents application. We want to use the camp for corporate team-building—in addition to its charitable use.” He sketched in details of Camp Corporate. “How much opposition do you think we'll get?”

Liz stepped back. “The only reason council—and Harry—approved consent was because there was absolutely no commercial intent…. Now you're changing it?”

“Only because we have to reduce our dependance on fund-raising.” Her expression worried him. “You think we're opening up a can of worms with this?” Shit. His instincts had told him there'd be trouble. “Obviously I'm not expecting Delores to support the idea.”

“Not only Delores.” Her face was pale under the makeup. “I can't support it either, Luke.”

He stared at her. “You're kidding.”

“No,” she said quietly, “I'm not.”

“But you support Camp Chance.”

“Yes, I do. As it is.” He hated it when she adopted her ice-maiden demeanor. “But turning it into a commercial enterprise, even if it's only part of the time…I don't know.” She started to pace. “All the ecological considerations were based on three months of residential use a year. Now you're talking twice that.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “We've done studies into all that. Additional impact will be minimal. Trust me, Camp Corporate won't compromise Beacon Bay's character.”

She stiffened. “Are you telling me Triton had this in mind when you first applied?”

“No, I only got the idea when sponsorship started drying up. But all the research we did to get Camp Chance approved still applies. Of course, I'd prefer to wait until the kids camp is up and running properly, but the proposed district plan has torpedoed that idea.”

He hesitated. “To be brutally honest, Liz, Camp Chance's future depends on it being self-funding. We need your support.”

For a moment she wavered, then straightened her shoulders. “I'm sorry,” she said in her best mayor's voice, “but Harry was unequivocally opposed to any commercial development of the foreshore. It was his line in the sand.”

“I'm not asking Harry,” he said slowly. “I'm asking you.”

“How can I support something I know he was so adamantly opposed to? It would be disloyal.”

Luke was sick of hearing about Harry. “What about your loyalty to me?”

Her mouth tightened. “My personal relationships have nothing to do with decisions I make as mayor.”

“If that's true then why are you using your dead husband as a touchstone for every bloody decision?”

The ice-queen mask cracked. “At least I don't expect you to side with me just because we're sleeping together. Is that what this affair's all about?”

For a moment the accusation hung in the air like gun smoke. Then Luke said with dangerous quiet, “Is that really the man you think I am?”

The hurt in his expression steadied her. “No.” Liz took a deep breath. “I'm sorry.” How had conflict escalated so quickly between them? She and Harry had never fought. She didn't know she could get so wrought up.

Luke appeared similarly shell-shocked as he rubbed his hand over his face and gestured to a chair. “Let's talk about this.”

“I'm already late for work.” And she needed to regroup, process these churning emotions.

He glanced at his watch. “Hell. I've got a conference call in five minutes. Later then.”

“Yes, but…I won't change my mind.” Whatever her private qualms, she had to stay true to Harry's vision. Because as long as his legacy was alive, so in some vital way, was he.

Stony-faced, Luke led the way to the door.

Liz pulled out the set of house keys he'd given her and held them up, keeping her composure only by concentrating on the shiny metal. “I completely understand that this makes it impossible for you to give me further lessons.” Obviously their affair was over. The ache of regret surprised her.

For a long moment there was silence, then with a pained sigh Luke closed her fingers over the keys. “Still trying to prove our relationship is dependent on your camp support, huh? I'm not falling for that trick.” Astonished, Liz lifted her gaze to his. His humor was forced, so was his smile. It didn't matter. “I'll keep trying to change your mind, but it's lessons as usual.”

As she continued to stare at him, a glimmer softened the impervious expression in his eyes. “But I'll probably play hard to get for a few days.”

His generosity took her breath away, made Liz wish she could tell him what he wanted to hear. But she couldn't. “If you're sure?”

He still held her hand. “We're friends, aren't we?” he challenged her.

“Yes.” Her fingers tightened on his. “We're friends.”

 

“I'
D LOVE TO KNOW
who Luke Carter's sleeping with.” Kirsty finally found a car park in the area cordoned off for Swim-Safe officials and swung her red Alfa Romeo into the tight space with a zippiness that made Liz clutch the dashboard.

“What makes you think he's sleeping with someone?” Her nerves were already shot without having to deal with this, too. She looked at the red and green pennants flapping in the breeze, the people swarming onto the beach, the children in their goggles and togs dragging bright towels—and her stomach lurched. Her shaky fingers fumbled with the catch on the seat belt. “It's jammed.”

“I saw a discarded bathing suit lying by the pool. Female.” Kirsty reached over and undid it.

“Maybe he's a cross-dresser.”

“Yeah, and all the best-looking guys are gay. Not this one.”

Last night he'd dropped into the council offices where Liz been working late and practically frog-marched her to her car. “Athletes need an early night before the big event,” he'd insisted, then cut off her protests by pinning her against the civic building and kissing her senseless. “I think I'm ready to stop playing hard to get.”

“It's only been twenty-four hours.”

“I'm addicted.” Liz knew exactly what he'd meant. He'd kissed her again, then reluctantly stepped away. “But tonight, Mayor Light, you need sleep, not sex. You've got a big day tomorrow.”

Out of the car, it was thirty degrees Celsius. Shivering, Liz dragged her kit bag out of the boot. “Ohmigod, I forgot my goggles.”