by Karina Bliss
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.”
“No, you didn’t,” Kirsty said patiently. “They’re around your neck. I’ve never seen you so nervous. You can swim, can’t you?”
“Yes.” In a pool. Not in a choppy sea. A gust of wind hit them as they walked onto the beach, throwing sand in Liz’s eyes and making them water. She didn’t stand a chance.
Officials with loudspeakers and reflective armbands milled among the crowd, and the kids participating had been corralled into a makeshift fence of fluttering yellow tape. Her legs felt as if they were sinking farther and farther into the sand.
“Look, there’s Nev and Harriet,” said Kirsty. Glancing at the base of the dunes, Liz saw Harriet, nearly obscured under a sun hat, digging clumsily in the sand with a red plastic spade. Nev waved. She could barely lift her hand to wave back. And she was expecting to swim with this arm? Panic broke through her dread.
Beside her, Kirsty prattled on. “I think his lover is local. There was no car parked in his driveway, so either it’s a big secret or she lives within walking distance.”
“Will you shut up about Luke Carter’s lover!”
Kirsty stopped dead in her tracks. “Lizzy!”
Deep breaths, Liz told herself, deep breaths. “I’m sorry.” Suddenly too hot, she unzipped her tracksuit jacket and stripped it off, bundled it into her carry bag, then took Kirsty by the arm. “The thing is, I’m not a great swimmer and I’m a little nervous.” They drew closer to the starting line and Liz tightened her grip. “Humor me by talking about something else.”
“I like your bathing suit,” Kirsty said tentatively. “Is it new?”
She’d bought it to replace the one by the pool in case Kirsty had seen it. Luke had told her she was being paranoid. This one was red. Red was probably a shark’s favorite color.
Across the sea of children Liz caught sight of Luke chatting to the organizers. If he was wrong about Kirsty seeing the swimsuit, he could be wrong about her being ready to do this.
“I’m sorry, but I have to say one other thing about Luke Carter,” said Kirsty. “Hubba hubba.”
He did look good in his ice-blue Camp Chance T-shirt teamed with black board shorts that exposed the solid muscle of his great legs, but right now Liz’s strongest urge was to cut and run. Kirsty peeled her reluctant fingers from the sports bag and gently pushed her into the fray. “You’ll be fine.”
The children were wild with excitement. They jumped and pulled and chattered at her, all teeth and smiles. Liz automatically dispensed pats and words of encouragement, hearing nothing but the thundering of her heart.
Luke caught her by the hand and he pulled Liz into a circle of adults, squeezed her hand and let go.
SHE LOOKED so petrified, he ached to take her in his arms and reassure her that every athlete felt like this before a big event. For the first time, Luke felt the frustration of keeping their relationship secret.
T
hey couldn’t go on like this.
Over the next thirty minutes as he stood on the sidelines watching Liz shake hands, smile for the obligatory photos and interact with the excited young swimmers, he came to another realization. She was good at this. Very good.
Knowing how terrified she was about the swim, he could only marvel at how well Liz could still perform a mayor’s primary function—building community. Somehow, after he’d introduced her to the camp kids, she managed to mix the shy newcomers with local children.
The ice-blue swimming caps of Camp Chance were now dotted among the crowd, instead of being clumped together in a defensive huddle.
“I hope you’ve done a head count.” Frowning under an enormous straw sun hat, Delores Jackson came to stand beside him. “Remember, adequate supervision was one of the conditions of consent.”
“It’s a kids’ camp not a high-security prison. And for the record, they’re disadvantaged not delinquent.” He’d been meaning to have a word with her since her quote in the Chronicle. “When are you going to give me a break?”
“When I can trust you to keep to the rules.”
Rules. Despite his irritation, Luke smiled. “People need to feel part of the community before they buy into its rules, Delores. Did you ever consider that?”
They spent the next five minutes in a heated philosophical discussion. If so much didn’t ride on her influence he might have enjoyed it. With her active intelligence, she should be running a business, he reflected, instead of minding everyone else’s under the guise of the Residents and Ratepayers Association.
“What did you do?” he asked abruptly. “Before you became a witch.”
“I was a dental nurse for forty-two years.”
“So torturing poor kids is a calling, then?”
Her eyes sparkled. “If only they’d all had your big mouth…my job would have been so much easier. Your charges have better manners than you do.”
That surprised him. “You mean you’ve actually been talking to some of them?”
“Mr. Carter?” An official hurried over. “We’re ready to start.”
LIZ FELT rather than saw Luke approach because she couldn’t tear her gaze from the orange marker buoys parallel to the beach, bobbing in and out of the whitecaps. “I think they’re drifting farther away,” she muttered.
He squeezed her shoulder. “A couple of kids from Camp Chance will be swimming with you, Mayor Light. They’re a little timid in the water and I was hoping you’d keep an eye on them for me.”
Liz’s attention snapped back to him. Was he crazy?
Luke beckoned the kids forward. “Meet Moana and Jayden.”
Automatically, Liz shook hands. The girl, preadolescent and slight, looked as though she’d be swept out on the tide; the older boy, maybe fourteen, was twice Liz’s weight. “I don’t think—”
“A couple of tips, guys,” Luke said to the kids, and she shut up and listened. “This isn’t a race, so relax. Take your time and have fun.”
Liz reswallowed her breakfast.
“With the choppy water you might have to slow down and take more breaths or even lift your arms and body farther out of the water on each stroke.” Luke demonstrated. Desperately, Liz copied every move. “Water’s probably going to get in your mouth but there’s no need to panic. Simply blow it out during your stroke and then take a breath on the next one. Okay?”
Liz realized all three were staring at her and the penny dropped. She wasn’t their lifeguard; these kids were hers. And by the anxious looks on their faces they were taking that responsibility very seriously. She couldn’t let them carry that burden, so she croaked, “No sweat.”
“You guys go in the first shot of the starter gun. The other kids will follow you after four minutes.”
Her chilled fingers wrestling with her goggles, Liz nodded.
“You can do it,” he murmured. “And if all else fails, walk.”
Her panic eased slightly but the sound of the starter’s gun still had the punch of a heart attack. Her smile set like rigor mortis, Liz jogged into the sea, Jayden and Moana kicking up spray beside her. She’d expected the water to be as icy as her blood; instead it closed around her as benignly as a warm bath.
Luke was right—she could do this.
“Don’t worry,” whispered Moana, behind goggles that took up half her face. “We’ll look after you.” With an encouraging smile she dived into the water like a fish.
Jayden looked after her wistfully, but said to Liz, “You can go first.”
Taking a deep breath, Liz started to swim, trying to ignore the push and pull of the surface chop. It was difficult—she adjusted her stroke, turned her head for a gasp of air—but not impossible. With grim concentration, she counted ten strokes, then lifted her head to sight the marker. Adrenaline had given her power and it was much closer than she’d expected.
Rounding the second buoy, she choked on a mouthful of seawater and had to stop and tread water while she coughed it out. A banshee cheer went up from the beach and the shoreline exploded into white water as a hundred kids hurtled into the sea. “Yikes.”
Jayden’s blond head surfaced beside her. “You got a cramp?”
Water streamed off Moana’s ice-blue swimming cap as she powered back toward them. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” As long as they stayed ahead of the hordes. “Race you,” Liz invited. Water slapped her across the face as the two kids kicked away from her at speed. Carefully, Liz followed in their wake, so intent on coordinating her strokes and breathing that her hand hit the seabed before she realized she was in knee-deep water.
Feeling like a fool and grinning like an idiot, she stood up and dragged off her goggles, instinctively searching for Luke in the cheering crowd.
He stood among the kids and counselors of Camp Chance, feet slightly apart, arms folded, watching her. Ray-Bans shielded his expression but she could sense his pride, as warm as the sun on her back, could read his delight in the wide smile, a slash of white against his tanned face.
This feeling, so rusty, so lovely…what was it? For a minute Liz couldn’t identify it because it was tangled with the euphoria, the sense of achievement.
Then she did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LUKE HADN’T SEEN Liz in two days and he was getting withdrawal symptoms. One hand on the steering wheel, he massaged the back of his neck with the other. She could defuse the day’s tensions with a touch.
In his driveway, he switched off the 4WD’s engine and stared at his big, empty house. So the challenge was over, so she didn’t need swimming lessons, so the elections were eleven days away and she had to prepare for the public meeting next Tuesday.
All good reasons, but his instincts told him they were excuses. Thoughtfully, he got out of the car, checking his mobile for messages. None from Liz. He’d sensed wariness, even a formality, in her attitude after the swim and in their two brief phone-calls since. Something was bothering her, and he wanted to know what it was.
Maybe it would be third time lucky. He brought up her number. About to push Send, Luke paused. Was Liz turning into an obsession? Aborting the call, he picked up the courier package sitting on his doorstep and let himself into the house.
This was the perfect opportunity to regain some perspective on their affair. And if it turned out that he’d served his purpose and she didn’t need him anymore, well, easy come, easy go.
He dropped his keys on the bench and ripped open the envelope. His thoughts elsewhere, it took Luke a moment to focus on the contents. He hadn’t expected to feel anything and the pain took him by surprise.
Pouring himself a straight bourbon, he sat on the deck in the gathering twilight for an hour, then, unable to stand his thoughts any longer, pushed redial.
LIZ HADN’T INTENDED to answer the phone. This was a special night and she’d already put on Harry’s favorite music—Vivaldi’s Four Seasons—and settled herself on her bed with the photo albums. Except…what if it was Kirsty c
alling to share memories?
“Hello?” she said.
“Liz? It’s Luke.”
“Hi.”
“Have you eaten?”
She had to smile. He was always trying to feed her. “No, not yet.”
“There’s a casserole in the freezer that Jord made last time he was here. Can I tempt you?”
Too much. “I can’t tonight.”
“Look outside the window, Fred.” Though it was after eight, the setting sun had turned the sky into a watercolor sunset of delicate pinks and violets. The estuary, on full tide, twisted like a melted rainbow through the mangroves. “See what you’re missing by working?”
Liz turned away from the view. “It’s not work, it’s…something else.”
“Why are you avoiding me?”
She gave him part of the truth. “It’s Harry’s birthday and I wasn’t planning on seeing anyone.”
“We don’t have to have sex. Let’s raise a toast to his memory…I’ve got a ghost that needs laying to rest myself.”
“No.” Harry and Luke had to be kept separate. “I’d rather…not.”
There was a brief pause. “Sorry for being so slow. I’ve got my diary here, so let’s mark those important dates now. The first time you and Harry met. The first time you kissed…made love. Your wedding anniversary—”
“The day he died. December third.”
There was a tense silence. “I’m sorry.” Luke’s tone was no longer savage, but strained and tired. “My divorce came through today. I guess I’m jealous of your perfect love.”
Now she understood his persistence. “Luke, I—”
“It’s all right, Liz. I understand. Enjoy your special evening.” He hung up.
With mixed emotions, Liz replaced the receiver. Dammit, this was their time, hers and Harry’s. Luke was already impinging on her thoughts too much. This was one of only two days in the year she devoted to Harry—his birthday and the anniversary of his death.
Determinedly she stuck to her rituals—lighting candles, opening a bottle of Harry’s favorite wine, settling on the bed with her albums. But the sense of sanctity was gone.