by Karina Bliss
“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.
LUKE 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.
“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 ha
ve 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.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“HI 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.”