by Laura Moore
His comment stung, but Lily refused to justify her actions to Sean McDermott, of all people. “That’s right, I have. Why don’t you get this meeting started, Mayor.” Lily spat the word softly. She spun on her heels and strode away to where John was rearranging chairs under Evelyn Roemer’s vigilant command.
And Sean was treated to a knockout view of her long, shapely legs. Legs made impossibly longer thanks to her strappy, three-inch-heeled sandals. His gaze traveled upward and stalled. He swallowed in an effort to dislodge the quartzlike lump lodged in his windpipe, created by the sight of Lily’s enticingly rounded buttocks wrapped in a snug, cream-colored skirt whose hemline ended miles short of her knees.
Lily had come a long way in the dress department. In the old days, she invariably opted for shapeless, baggy clothes that offered no hint of the body underneath, using them and her long, thick, blond hair as a protective shield. In the cold war between them, Sean always thought of it as Lily’s very own iron curtain.
How in the world was he going to lead this blasted meeting with the image of Dr. Lily Banyon’s high-octane body burning up his brain cells? And if—rather make that when—he blew it, he knew exactly who’d be the first one laughing her bright blond head off.
Lily was sure the wild hammering of her pulse was from righteous fury. She didn’t care if Sean had become a devastatingly attractive male, his face all strong planes, his body six feet of elegant muscle. So what if his olive green jacket and his azure blue shirt enhanced the whirl of green and brown in his hazel eyes, making them deep and oddly compelling?
She was immune.
Besides, he’d always looked good. There’d never been an ungainly moment in Sean McDermott’s development, his body always athletic and beautifully proportioned. In addition, the countless hours of training demanded by Hal Storey, their swim coach, had sculpted Sean’s adolescent body to the point where seeing him in his racing Speedo could cause a female heart palpitations. She could recall vividly how the girls on their swim team used to park themselves on the bleachers and ogle Sean, as he stood perched on the starting block before a race. Breathless sighs would sound when Sean’s body dropped down into his racing start, his fingers gripping the edge of the slanted platform, the muscles in his body tensing in anticipation. Their breathless sighs were transformed into gasps of appreciation as the official’s gun sounded and Sean’s body shot forward, rocketlike, his trajectory a smooth arc over, then into, the water. A weird, brief moment of silence followed, an expectant hush, and then Sean was surfacing, already halfway down the length of the pool, slicing through the water, the effortlessness of his stroke testimony to his young body’s incredible power. Excited cheers erupted, accompanying the cadence of his stroke.
Sean was as handsome as ever. No, more so. Lily resisted thinking about how much more—how his body had matured, his shoulders even broader. How his mouth, how his face—with skin scraped daily by the blade of a razor—offered such an intriguing and inviting contrast of curved smoothness and the rough hint of light brown stubble. How his voice was lower, deeper. And rich with dislike for her.
But Lily wasn’t going to think about Sean. Once this meeting was over, she’d make sure she steered clear of Mayor McDermott. Out of sight, out of mind . . . a cliché she’d repeated to herself for ten long years.
CHAPTER SIX
As committee chair, Sean opened the meeting. For the benefit of the new research team, he introduced the other panel members, then gave a brief summary of the town’s decision to conduct a reef study.
“Like many seaside communities in Florida, Coral Beach has become increasingly concerned with the health of its coral reefs. When it came to my attention that the most recent study of our reef system was made over a decade ago, I urged the town to initiate a new one that would determine if there has been significant deterioration, and if so, what steps should be taken to protect this vital ecosystem. Our study was begun by Dr. Abe Lesnesky, a marine biologist at the University of Miami. Sadly, Dr. Lesnesky was diagnosed with cancer and was forced to abandon his work here. It is, of course, essential that this key study not remain incomplete, inconclusive—”
“Excuse me, Mayor McDermott. If I may interject here?” It was the glad-hander, the flashy older man who’d been assiduously working the room. Lily remembered his name. It was Pete Ferrucci. He was apparently chairman of something or other.
Ferrucci rose to his feet, one hand buttoning his double-breasted suit. “Mayor McDermott, if you please, I’d like it duly noted that not all the members of this committee agree on this point. Dr. Lesnesky’s study was essentially complete. None of his tests revealed the presence of anything harmful to humans or to marine life in the water. Nor were there any other signs that our reef was diseased. None whatsoever,” he repeated, glancing around the room to make sure everyone had heard. “Personally, as a tax paying member of this community, I remain unconvinced the town’s dollars are being spent wisely in continuing this study, especially when so many other projects deserve funding, yet remain on hold. For example, it troubles me deeply that an accident occurred this very morning on the Bellemer Bridge. A bridge that many council members, myself included, have argued is unsafe and have repeatedly petitioned the town to widen.”
“Thank you.” Sean inclined his head. “Your input has been duly noted, Mr. Ferrucci, but as you may recall, the coral reef advisory panel outvoted you,” he said, his tone dry. “The decision was made to finish the present study, and allay any lingering concerns about the reef’s present condition.”
“Yes, but at what cost to our town? Why continue a study like this when we already have more than sufficient data? Why throw money away needlessly? Shouldn’t we be using that money to improve our town in ways that matter? What’s more important, really? The Bellemer Bridge—”
“May I remind you, Mr. Ferrucci,” Sean interrupted smoothly, “that this is a meeting for the coral reef study? I will, of course, be delighted to debate the issue of the Bellemer Bridge with you at the next town council meeting. It’s been scheduled for tomorrow, at six o’clock, I believe. Is that right, Ms. Roemer?”
His secretary nodded, without bothering to look up from the pad she was filling with her rapid shorthand.
“Before I return to the topic at hand, that is, the coral reef study,” Sean stressed deliberately, inviting muffled laughter, “I should mention the following, in the hopes it will ease certain members’ fears about exceeding the dollar amount we’ve allocated for the reef project. The Marine Center has generously offered to waive its fees and finish the reef study at no additional cost to the town.”
An audible murmur of approval swept the room. One thing was clear, Lily thought—noting the ease with which Sean conducted the meeting—her childhood nemesis had evolved into the quintessential politician. Though it irked her to admit it, he was good. He presented a thoroughly convincing image of a caring, concerned politician . . . an extremely savvy politician. Right now, the other committee members—with the exception of Pete Ferrucci—all had big smiles on their faces, thrilled with Mayor McDermott’s announcement that the town wouldn’t have to spend a penny to continue the reef study.
If Lily hadn’t spent the first eighteen years of her life watching Sean McDermott con the world with his charm, she, too, might have bought his smoothly delivered words—but she had. And because of her work as a marine biologist, Lily was doubly skeptical; years observing politicians use environmental issues to suit their own agenda had left her distrustful.
The issues surrounding the coral reef were a capsule version of an increasingly familiar story heard the world over—not just in tropical seaside communities.
A spectacular, natural environment became a town’s golden goose, attracting people from near and far. Soon, tourist-oriented businesses sprang up, first and second homes were built, jobs created, all dependent upon the natural beauty of the surroundings. But inevitably the day came when the environment could no longer support the overwhelming tol
l humans placed on it. What had started out as a wondrous golden goose began to look more like a mangy chicken.
Yet even then, people refused to relinquish their vision of endless profit, wanting nothing more than to continue living their fairy-tale dreams.
Coral Beach’s golden goose was its spectacular beaches, its numerous water activities, and its offshore reef. Lily knew that if the town’s coral reef was unhealthy, chances were that all the rest—beaches, water sports—would eventually be affected, too.
But who in Coral Beach would willingly sacrifice something to care for the reef’s vital ecosystem, and who instead would choose to exploit the area until it was too sick to save? Would Sean McDermott be the one to take a stand and conserve this natural environment? A secret corner of her heart wished to believe it so.
The words Marine Center floated past, and Lily dragged her attention back to the meeting.
Sean was nodding in reply to the comment. “Certainly,” he said. “But why don’t we let Dr. Banyon and her assistants answer that—”
“Sorry to cut in again, Mr. Mayor,” Pete Ferrucci apologized with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I confess to being a bit dismayed by the last-minute switch in scientists. Initially, we were informed that the head scientist from the Marine Center would be Dr. George Hunt. Naturally, I looked him up, checked him out, and was pleased to see he had the right experience for the job. Now, suddenly, we’ve got ourselves a brand-new scientist. Could you tell us, Mr. Mayor, why the committee members weren’t advised such a change had taken place?”
A muscle jumped above Sean’s lean jaw. “I apologize that my staff and I were unable to alert the committee sooner.”
Ferrucci wasn’t listening. He’d fixed his attention on Lily, Karen, and John. He had a flat, dark stare. Typical of most predators, he picked the most vulnerable member of the research team first.
“Ms. Masur, would you mind sharing your credentials with us, along with your area of expertise in marine biology?”
Karen glanced around the room full of strangers, and blanched. “Uh, I’m the photographer.” Karen’s brown eyes widened when the committee members continued to look at her, waiting expectantly. “I take pictures,” she managed.
“Oh.” Ferrucci’s smile shifted, turning into a smirk. “I see. And do you have a degree in marine biology?”
“Um, no, I don’t.”
“Environmental science, perhaps?”
Karen shook her head.
“How about a degree in photography?”
“I took a leave from college,” Karen’s admission was delivered in a near whisper as bright splotches of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.
Ferrucci’s smile grew wide. “Mr. Mayor, I’d like it duly noted in the minutes that the scientific team the Town of Coral Beach has contracted to replace Dr. Lesnesky has less than stellar—”
All right. Enough was enough. Lily would be damned if she’d allow anyone to make disparaging remarks about her team.
“Excuse me for interrupting,” she said as she stood up. All eyes turned to her. “Mr. Ferrucci, members of the committee, let me assure you of Karen Masur’s abilities as a photographer. Her work at the Marine Center—one of the most highly regarded institutes in the country— has been consistently excellent. Let me stress how vital her role as photographer is. As you doubtless know, the principal aim of a reef study is to document its physical state and record any signs of deterioration. To accomplish this, we scientists utilize a variety of tools to provide us with visual evidence. Even with advances in computer technology, photography remains an essential tool for recording the health of the coral, and for documenting different types of species—plant and fish alike. I have full confidence that Ms. Masur will do a superb job with this study.”
Ferrucci’s mouth opened, a big gaping hole ringed by black facial hair. Lily looked away. “Now, so we don’t waste any more of the committee’s time discussing my team’s credentials, let me simply add that although Mr. Granger is still working on his doctoral dissertation, he’s already written a number of articles on coral reef ecology. I’m sure Mr. Granger would be delighted to circulate copies of them among you, and would be equally happy to talk about the work he’s been doing on his dissertation.”
She turned to John, who was paying far closer attention now that he was the focus of discussion. “John, why don’t you tell the committee a little bit about yourself?”
Lily suppressed a smile as John eagerly launched into a detailed description of his dissertation topic. Take that, Ferrucci, she thought as she relaxed against the back of her chair, unfazed by the waves of hostility emanating from him.
It was a good ten minutes before John finished explaining why his Ph.D. dissertation was destined to be hailed as a groundbreaking work of scientific research. The final syllable of John’s last sentence still hung in the air when Ferrucci sprang from his seat, like a jack-in-the-box with a broken lid.
“And you, Dr. Banyon?” he challenged, thrusting his chin forward aggressively. “Ms. Roemer was kind enough to provide us a few details. I see here that you boast a Ph.D. from Brown University.” His drawl implied Lily might as well have received her degree from one of those correspondence schools that advertise on the inside of match-books. “And it says here you hold a senior research position at the Marine Center. Very impressive. Nevertheless, despite these accomplishments, I doubt your scientific background truly meets the needs of this study.”
Before Lily could react, Sean was speaking, leaving her to sit in stunned disbelief as his reply registered.
“Which merely shows how wrong a person can be. In this case, that person would be you, Mr. Ferrucci.” Cool amusement laced Sean’s voice. A few discreet chuckles disguised as coughs circled the room. “Dr. Banyon is acknowledged throughout the world as an expert in coral reef ecology. Her work has taken her to such far-flung sites as the Seychelles and the Galapagos. Of particular importance to us, however, and a fact most people in this room are unaware of, is that Dr. Banyon also happens to be a native of Coral Beach. Her knowledge of these waters is extensive. Indeed, an entire chapter of a book she coauthored on environmental pollution and its effects on marine ecosystems is devoted to the Florida Keys”— Sean paused to clear his throat and his lips curved in a small smile—“As you might already suspect, I could easily continue listing Dr. Banyon’s many scientific accomplishments. Fascinating as they are, I’ll refrain. . . . I know you’d like to get home before midnight.” Sean’s smile became a grin as laughter swept the room. “Suffice it to say, any community would be thrilled to have Dr. Banyon lead its study. And we should count ourselves lucky that Dr. Banyon is willing to accommodate her busy schedule to suit our own. She was to begin the second phase of a project in the Bahamas. . . .”
A growing sense of unreality had spread through Lily as Sean fired off highlights of her professional career. When he mentioned her work in the Bahamas, her disorientation was complete. How in the world did he know about her next planned tour of duty?
Recitation complete, Sean paused to look directly at her. Lily’s gaze skittered away, afraid of what he might see there. His unexpected defense left her confused, uncertain. Never in a million years would Lily have pictured Sean as her valiant defender. Then again, Lily reflected, Sean’s role as mayor and as a driving force behind the reef study practically forced him to adopt this stance—at least publicly.
She knew only too well how he felt about her privately.
Sean spoke again. “With Dr. Banyon’s professional commitments as numerous as they are, she and her team will doubtless begin their research as soon as possible. I suggest we reconvene in three weeks, by which time Dr. Banyon should be able to give us some further data.”
Someone dutifully made a motion to adjourn. Around the room, hasty seconds and thirds were pronounced in favor of the motion. The committee disbanded rapidly.
Thank heaven that’s over, Lily thought. She had three weeks, then, before she’d have to
deal with Sean McDermott again. She stood, muscles stiff from too many hours spent sitting in planes, automobiles, and over-air-conditioned meeting rooms.
“Uh, Lily?” Karen said.
She looked up from the pile of papers that she was shoving into her shoulder bag. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to say thanks.” Karen’s cheeks continued to sport those telltale stains of embarrassment.
“Nothing to thank me for,” she replied mildly.
“Uh-huh,” Karen insisted, setting her braids swinging. “You stood up for me, even though I’m just starting out.
I know you would have preferred having someone like Ethan down here.” Ethan Ford often worked as Lily’s photographer. He was one of the center’s best, a veteran. But Ethan was currently on leave, his wife having just given birth to their first child.
“Having Ethan here would have been nice,” Lily admitted with a casual shrug. “It’s always easier to work with people who are old hands, familiar with the ropes and with the way I like things done. But that’s what this project is all about—at least for you: getting experience in the field. So that next time you’ll be better able to handle someone like Ferrucci. Besides, what I told the committee was the truth. You are a great photographer.”
“You think?”
“I never exaggerate someone’s professional skills. So,” she continued briskly, as Karen was looking a shade perkier, “here’s what you’re going to do to justify my confidence: You’re going to do a first-rate job photographing every inch of this coral reef, everything from plankton to sea turtles. Then you’re going to take those spectacular slides and shove them down Pete Ferrucci’s throat. Got it?”
“Excellent advice, Karen. I’d take it if I were you,” Evelyn Roemer said. She had once again materialized at Lily’s side. “Dr. Banyon clearly knows her way around small-town politics—big city, too, I’d imagine.”