Mr. Unforgettable (15 page)

“I'm probably okay to drive home after we've eaten,” she said awkwardly.

“Go now if you want to.”

Her color heightened. “It's you who doesn't want me here.”

Her perceptiveness annoyed him. “Of course I bloody do,” he snarled, lifting the lid. Not chicken casserole but pumpkin soup.

“Why are you angry with me?”

For once Luke's customary honesty deserted him. “What makes you think that?” He poured the golden broth into a couple of mugs and carried them over. “Here.”

He held out a mug. Liz sniffed and looked down, then recoiled as though he were offering her a rattlesnake.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

Liz started to choke, her throat closing up. She hated that smell, hated where it took her.

Back to that foster home. Back to herself as a child, the smothered gagging as she forced herself to spoon her plate clean.

“For God's sake, Liz, what is it?” Still holding the mug, Luke came closer.

Clapping a hand over her nose and mouth, Liz stumbled to the doors and threw them open. She sucked in deep breaths but the stench lingered in the heavy humidity. “Liz?” Luke said beside her and her nausea became panic. Seizing the mug from his hand, she hurled it up and into the dunes. Under the security lights, the soup fell in an arc that splattered across the pale sand; the mug landed with a thud. She started to shake.

Luke pushed her down into a deck chair. “Stay here while I get rid of the rest.”

Teeth rattling like castanets, Liz sat hugging herself. She flinched when another mug was thrust under her nose. “Brandy,” Luke said. “Drink it.”

Her eyes watered as she choked it down, but the alcohol stripped the last cloying trace of pumpkin from the back of her throat. Luke picked her up and carried her to bed then wrapped himself around her. The last chill of shock worked its way through her bones.

Completely empty, Liz cried. As helplessly as when she'd first heard of Harry's death. Cried until her nose streamed, her eyes swelled and her head ached.

And while she sobbed, Luke soothed her with nonsense words of comfort, stroking her head and shoulders. Their bodies grew hot and sweaty under the blankets; he kicked them off, but he never stopped holding her.

Her fingers dug into his back, but Liz couldn't make herself let go. When her sobs abated to intermittent spasms, she gasped. “This…is…silly. No one hurt me. Nothing…to complain about…No one abused me.”

It broke his heart.

“But did anyone hold you?” Against his chest she shook her head, not making a sound now, even as another deluge of hot tears scalded his skin. “Did anyone love you?”

In the midst of shaking her head, she paused. “Yes. Harry.”

No, he could never compete
.

She pulled away a little, looked up at him with eyes that were red and swollen. “Who hugged you?”

His throat tightened. “I'm not sensitive like you.”

Her hold tightened until he thought his bones would crack. “Tell me.”

“I was six when my mother put me in care, saying she'd come back for me. She never did.” Liz's hair tickled his nose as he shrugged. “Probably never intended to.”

“You can't know that for sure. Maybe her life was hell, maybe she was working to better it before she came and got you. Maybe…”

His nonchalance deserted him. “I waited at the door of that home every Christmas and birthday for three years on the strength of maybes.” He'd never told anyone this before, not even Jordan and Christian. “Then she died, and I finally had peace.”

“Oh, Luke.”

“No pity, Liz.”

“Go to hell,” she said and kissed him.

Luke pulled away. She was taking him from a man who felt too little to a man who felt too much. “Let me get you a washcloth for your face. A glass of water.”

“I'm sorry, I must taste like the Dead Sea…No, don't turn on the light.”

When his emotions were under control, Luke went back. He stood and watched her as she gulped down the water. Her wedding ring glinted in the light from the hallway.

Luke took the empty glass, chill against his fingers, and placed it on the bedside table. Still standing, he asked, “Why were you in care?” In silence, he waited while Liz fought through her reluctance.

“My father was a single parent. He tried, but he worked long hours at a poorly paid job and my child care was…erratic. Social Welfare intervened when I was five. I didn't live with him again—he died when I was seven.”

“And the soup?”

Unconsciously she pulled up the sheet. “One of my foster parents was hot on self-discipline. My aversion to pumpkin soup was something she thought I should master.” Liz laughed weakly. “I guess…the lesson wore off.”

It was the laugh that got Luke. He knew this woman, knew what had shaped her, as it had shaped him, knew her strengths and weaknesses as a result. It was like being given X-ray vision into another person's soul.

And it was impossible to withhold the compassion he rarely allowed himself. Impossible not to admire what she'd overcome…without any of the riders he put on his own achievements. They had been soldiers in the same war.

He'd come to think of himself as invulnerable, but Luke realized suddenly he was helpless against loving her.

Taking the washcloth out of the bowl of water, he sat on the edge of the bed and passed it lightly over her pale, exhausted face and tear-swollen eyes.

Liz sighed as she exposed her neck to the wonderful coldness.

“Lie down.”

Obediently, she slid down the headboard. Tomorrow she knew she'd be ashamed about this; right now she needed his comfort.

Luke's fingers moved to the buttons of her rumpled blouse, the zip of her skirt. Gently he stripped her naked. She closed her eyes as the cloth traced her collarbone, her shoulders, her arms and hands.

Heard the trickle of water as he rinsed and squeezed the cloth, then felt the weight of it on her breasts and stomach, skin tingling in the wake of its delicious trailing coolness. Her nipples peaked; Luke's hand stilled.

Then the sheet was being pulled up and Liz felt the brush of a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Get some sleep.”

Opening her eyes, she grabbed his leg. “Don't go.”

Under her hand the muscle tensed, but his voice was calm. “If that's what you want.”

She expected him to undress, but Luke only removed his T-shirt before he lay down beside her, on top of the sheet. The embarrassment Liz expected to feel tomorrow arrived early.

“You know I'll go.” She pushed back the sheet. “It's dawn soon and if I'm home I'll—”

He rolled over to trap her body under his. “Don't be hurt.” Gently, he pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“If this is pity, get off me.”

Luke nuzzled her neck, following the sensitive sinew down to where it joined her shoulders. “God help me, it's not.”

Liz opened her mouth to ask what he meant and he kissed her in a way he never had before, a kiss both tender and fierce.

His erection pressed hard and hot through his jeans, the rough denim scratched her inner thighs, he smelled of clean sweat and aroused male and his hands were rough-skinned on her sensitized skin. But his kisses were heartbreakingly sweet.

Their lovemaking had always been passionate, intensely physical, now every stroke of his tongue was laced with a dangerous tenderness that both stirred and scared her.

Lightly, she raked her nails across his back, trying to change the mood. But his lips still on hers, Luke captured her hands and held them by her sides while he continued his exquisite seduction.

There was something intensely erotic about being kissed so gently by a big, powerful man while she lay naked under his half-dressed body, helpless to touch him.

And though she knew it was dangerous, Liz found herself responding in kind, beguiled by this precarious, poignant intimacy. The world reduced to their intertwined fingers, Luke's weight pressing her body into the mattress and his mouth making tender love to hers.

At some point he released her hands: reverently she traced the smooth muscle of his back, then unfastened his jeans and pushed them down, solely focused on drawing him closer.

She cried out as he entered her, painstakingly gentle even in this, and wrapped her legs around his body, needing the feel of him, skin to skin.

With every stroke, he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the movements of his body.

Liz gripped Luke's shoulders, trying to control it, but her orgasm was a shattering of boundaries.

Still he hadn't finished, intensifying his strokes, bringing her to another climax, and taking her with him into oblivion.

Afterward they held each other in silence. It was the sense of rightness that triggered Liz's insight and made her suddenly stiffen.

Luke was the lover in her dream.

L
IZ MOVED
restlessly in his arms, and Luke let her go. It really was too hot to lie together but—he pulled her back for a lingering kiss—he wanted to savor this rare intimacy while he could.

Abruptly, Liz ended the kiss. “I should go.”

He glanced at the luminous green dial on the bedside clock. “It's only five. Stay another thirty minutes.”

She rolled away from his embrace. “No!” Sitting on the bed with her back to him, she added more calmly, “I…I have a lot to do today.”

“Then of course you must go,” he said evenly. He turned on the light to see her face. He refused to believe that their recent lovemaking had changed nothing, meant nothing.

Liz blinked and avoided his gaze. “I'll shower when I get home.”

Propping himself up on an elbow, Luke watched her dress with her usual brisk efficiency. He'd never been invited to the house she'd lived in with Harry. But then affairs didn't take place on hallowed ground.

He'd always considered his ability to confront unpleasant truths a strength; now Luke hated it. With his history, loving a woman who couldn't love him back was emotional suicide. He had to give her up while he still had self-respect to cushion the fall.

While she used the bathroom, he dressed and found her bag and shoes. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Her smile was tight; her eyes looked right through him. In silence, they walked to the door. Outside, the dawn sky drizzled rain. It was still dark enough to trigger the security lights.

“Liz, I think we should stop sleeping together,” he said quietly. Now he had her full attention. Luke watched the emotions chase across her face—shock, disbelief, regret. But he also saw the relief. His heart started to bleed. “With the swim challenge over, you need to concentrate on the election.”

She turned away to look at the rain. Under the lights, the tiny drops glittered in her hair. “We always knew this affair was a temporary arrangement,” she said.

Fool that he was, part of him had still hoped she'd change the rules. “Plus, I've been neglecting Triton business since the kids arrived. I need to catch up.”

She gave him a searching, anxious look. “But we'll still be friends?”

He took an umbrella off one of the coat hooks in the hall and handed it to her. “Of course.”

Numbly, Liz took it. An honest man was always so bad at lying. “That's settled then.” She touched her lips lightly to his, resisting the urge to cling. All she'd wanted was space to think. Of course he'd ended it. After her performance last night, it had stopped being fun.

As she walked blindly down the driveway, Liz realized she'd had a narrow escape from complete humiliation.

“Liz.” On a heart-skip of hope, she swung around. “The umbrella,” he reminded her.

The rain had got harder without her even noticing. With a bright smile, she fumbled with the mechanism and hid her stricken expression under the canopy of emerald green. “Silly me.”

 

“W
ELL
, I
MUST SAY
it's nice to finally be singing from the same hymnbook.” But a slight frown drew Delores's eyebrows together as she stood up, and Liz realized the older woman would have preferred a battle.

Rising from her chair, she reflected that politics made strange bedfellows. “Mr. Carter's proposal still has to be judged on its merits through the planning department.”

“Yes, yes.” Delores picked up her handbag. “But if none of the mayoral or council candidates support the proposal, it will be much harder to push through.”

About to open her office door, Liz paused. “Snowy's made his decision then?”

“He knows which side his bread is buttered on. And when I make it an election issue, the other candidates will follow suit.”

Liz was careful not to flag her disquiet. “Is that necessary?” she asked with a smile.

Delores gave her an incredulous look. “The only time public opinion
has
any power is in an election year. We'd be crazy not to use it to kill further development. And to think I was starting to soften toward that man.” The familiar martial light kindled in her eyes. “I'm sure Luke Carter was planning this all along. Well, he'll soon learn he can't play me for a fool.”

“I know that was never his in—” “Of course it was. As if delinquents aren't bad enough, now he's expecting Beacon Bay to endure corporate shenanigans and hordes of yuppies. Anyway, Elizabeth, I'm glad you've joined us. I'd been hearing rumors.”

Liz's hand tightened on the door handle. “Rumors?”

Delores paused beside her. “That you support the camp.”

“I do support Camp Chance—” Liz opened the door “—but, Harry…I mean,
I'm
against any corporate use.”

“Well, you're doing the right thing now at least” was the grudging reply.

Then why did she feel so guilty? Closing the door against the persistent scent of lilac, Liz leaned against it with a frown. Since Luke's new plans had become public knowledge her stand had been vindicated time and time again.

Without any prompting, everyone—from the tea lady to Kirsty—had volunteered his or her opinion that Harry wouldn't have countenanced Camp Corporate. Even Luke's supporters on council took Liz's opposition for granted.

The only reason she'd told Delores her decision was to take the heat out of the issue. Let Luke's proposal take its chances with everyone else's. At the very least she could give him a level playing field. Instead, Delores considered it a mandate for war.

Frowning, Liz looked at the phone, wondering if she should ring the camp and warn Luke.
Are you sure you're not looking for an excuse to talk to him
!

Okay, she missed him. But—Liz gathered her things and left her office—he didn't miss her. He hadn't called once. So that was that and she could concentrate on winning the election. Ahead in the polls now by a good margin, all she had to do was hold a steady course and the job stayed hers.

In the lift, Liz stared at her reflection in the steel doors. So why did she look so sad? Yes, there was Luke and getting over her crush on him. It relieved her to name it.

Obviously she wasn't cut out for casual and that was all Luke had wanted. And really, that was all she'd wanted, too. She was never going to love someone as much as she loved Harry because the pain that came with the goodbye…

Oh, God
. Liz pressed her fingers into her eyelids.
Get over it. He doesn't want you
.

But her unhappiness was about more than losing Luke. For the first time in her life she was at odds with Harry. Having Delores in her office this afternoon only intensified Liz's conviction that—this time—she was on the wrong side. And it was driving her crazy.

In the foyer, she nodded a distracted goodbye to Mary at reception.

“Give that gorgeous baby a kiss for me.”

“I will.”

Outside, Liz pulled Harriet's car seat out of the trunk and fixed it in place in the backseat. She was picking her darling up from crèche. That would cheer her up. They would go to the beach, make a sand castle, swim…She found an upbeat song on the radio and turned it up loud. Enjoy all the things that children who were loved and nurtured could take for granted.

The camp's future depends on it being self-funded
.

Oh, hell. Liz leaned her forehead against the steering wheel.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” she whispered. “But I'm pulling rank on you.”

 

“W
HAT DO YOU
mean
you're supporting Camp Corporate?”

Kirsty dropped the flannel she was using to wash Harriet's back. It landed in the bubbles with a splash and set the family of rubber ducks bobbing frantically. Harriet grabbed Mother Duck and tried to chew her head off.

Sitting on the bath's edge, Liz hoped it wasn't a sign. “When I first decided to run for mayor I made myself a promise. To be uncompromising in my values and flexible in my views. I'm allowed to change my mind, Kirsty.”

“But you know Dad was absolutely opposed to any commercial use of the beachfront.”

“This is a conscience call for me.” Liz hesitated. Keeping her childhood private was too engrained to surrender the secret lightly. “For the charity to prosper, it needs its own income.”

Retrieving the flannel, Kirsty vigorously scrubbed her daughter's back. “They should have thought of that before they started.”

Harriet gave a squeal of noisy protest; Liz took over the flannel and the washing. “With twenty-twenty hindsight, I'm sure they would have located Camp Chance somewhere else.”
And I wouldn't have met Luke
. Despite her misery, something in her protested.

Kirsty's mouth tightened. “Well, I'm disappointed, Lizzy, and I know Dad is turning in his grave.”

Liz was trying not to dwell on that. Gently, she washed Harriet's face. “It's me I have to live with.”

“Okay, let's leave the personal issues aside for a minute. Sticking your neck out on a controversial issue a week before an election is crazy. As your campaign manager I have to advise against it.”

“Someone has to counter Delores Jackson's tirades with reasoned argument before she does too much damage. And how much credibility would I have if I wait to show my hand after the election? None.”

“Who cares?” Leaning forward, Kirsty pulled the plug on Harriet. The squeal of draining water was the only way to get her out of the bath. “At least you'll be elected.”

Liz lifted the clamoring baby free and rescued Mother Duck from the plug monster.

“
Now
who's turning Harry in his grave?”

“Fine,” said Kirsty grimly, handing Liz a towel. “But don't say I didn't warn you.”

For the first time since Liz had started having weekly playdates with Harriet, her stepdaughter didn't ask her to stay for dinner.

 

B
UT IT WAS
Liz's heart that turned over when Luke called her name three nights later. She was approaching the hall where the mayoral candidates were due to summarize their policies for the last time before Saturday's election.

“You're back from Auckland,” she said inanely, then blushed. Now he'd know she'd been keeping tabs on him.

“An hour ago. Rosie said you're supporting Camp Corporate.”

Of course, he wasn't here for her. “That's right.”

“What changed your mind?”

“My conscience. I couldn't spend time with Harriet without thinking about kids who don't have her advantages.” Dammit, he shouldn't be looking at her like that, when he didn't mean it. Briskly she added, “But wait until you've seen my conditions before you get too excited. There are a lot of controls on the use of that land.”

“I have, and I'm still grateful. We all are…Christian, Jordan, the camp counselors.” The gratitude in his voice stirred her emotions, all too close to the surface.

“Don't. If I get teary-eyed my mascara will run and then what will my constituents think?” She grimaced. “And I don't want to embarrass you again.”

“What do you mean?” His tone was sharp.

Wishing she'd never raised the subject, Liz shrugged. “Being so needy the other night. No wonder you—” She stopped herself in the nick of time, glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

As she turned away, he caught her arm in a firm grip. “Is
that
why you think I ended it?” When she hesitated, he said, almost to himself, “Of course it is. Hell, I was so intent on saving my pride, I didn't even consider how lousy the timing was.”

Saving pride seemed like a fine idea to Liz. With a tight smile, she freed her arm. “I shouldn't have brought it up. Forget it.”

As she hurried away, his voice followed her. “I ended it because I can't share you with Harry anymore, Liz. It's not good for me.”

She turned around and stared at him. What did he mean by that…? Did he…? Could he?

“
There
you are.” Glancing over her shoulder, Liz saw Kirsty hurrying toward her from the hall. “You're needed inside. Hi, Luke. Hmm, I'm not sure I should be talking to you. You do know Camp Corporate is jeopardizing Lizzy's reelection?”

“She's exaggerating,” Liz's brain was still reeling. “Can we talk later?”

Luke's gaze sharpened. “Is there more to say?”

Was there
? She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

He nodded. “I'll find you.”

Liz followed Kirsty through the side door into the hall. “Liz!” Jo Swann beckoned to her from the stage. The publisher was emcee tonight. “You're speaking after Snowy.” He was already at the podium, lowering the microphone. Beyond him, the hall was slowly filling with people.