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  The crowd resumed their seats as Fitz waited for the murmuring to die down before he stepped up to the mike. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my privilege to introduce to you a man who really needs no introduction, the man we’ve gathered together tonight to honor, the man who will be California’s next attorney general… Adam McKenzie.”

  The applause began again, spirited and lengthy. Liz watched Adam walk to the podium, saw him acknowledge the cheering crowd, all boyish charm and California charisma. Some men looked awkward and ill at ease in a tuxedo; others looked like pudgy penguins. Adam had obviously been born to wear one. She’d never heard him speak in person, just on tape, and was looking forward to his talk.

  The dinner had been lavish, with several courses and a variety of wines. At five hundred dollars a plate, haute cuisine was expected. There had been three other speakers before Sam Lorenzo. It was getting late, yet as Liz glanced over at the next table where her parents were seated with Richard and several other friends, she noticed that most everyone was leaning forward, apparently eager to hear Adam.

  After a few moments she decided Adam was what one of her professors used to call “a sneaky speaker.” He started off slowly, his voice not very loud, causing his audience to listen harder. He spoke of his boyhood, of his adolescence and growing up without a father, then introduced his mother, who stood to acknowledge the applause somewhat shyly. He talked of his college days when he and Fitz both were scholarship students.

  His voice deepened, grew in depth and resonance, as he discussed the kind of law he preferred to practice, where men like Sam could get a fair shake, where the little people could expect justice regardless of their income. Her eyes never leaving his face, Liz decided what Adam McKenzie had was more than charisma: it was vision. He envisioned a better, fairer world and was willing to get out there and fight for it. Not for himself, but for others.

  And that message came across to everyone in the room.

  To her surprise, Liz felt tears sting her eyes. A politician so rare. Could he be believed?

  At the podium, Adam finished as quietly as he’d begun. “I want to thank each and every one of you for your support. And I ask you tonight to join with me. I believe that together, we can make our little corner of the world a better place.” He nodded his head in thanks and took a sip of water. As always when he gave a speech, his mouth was dry and his hands were damp.

  He looked out on the crowd, rising to their feet and conveying their approval enthusiastically. He smiled in the direction of his mother, then scanned the faces, looking for someone in particular. When his eyes met Liz’s, he felt a shifting inside.

  It seemed odd to watch her applauding him. He hadn’t seen her dressed up before. The slim black dress made her appear older, while the cool, cautious look on her face made her seem distant. Next to the blowsy blonde in the tight pink dress, Liz was stunning by contrast. She wasn’t smiling, though all the others at her table were. He badly wanted to know what she was thinking.

  Adam was vaguely aware of flash bulbs popping and still he kept his eyes on Liz Townsend, trying to read her. She was beautiful, but he knew many beautiful women. Most of them he steered clear of, except on a superficial level. He couldn’t help but remember that his father’s obsession with a beautiful woman had changed all their lives. Adam wasn’t about to let that happen to him.

  Yet there was something about Liz Townsend. He should probably turn from her, forget her. A few hours alone in her company and he’d known she wasn’t a woman to be taken lightly. And that’s the only way he wanted to play the game—for now.

  A tall, slim older man with a mustache approached Liz, and Adam watched her tear her eyes from his, then turn to hug Joseph Townsend. Her mother, an attractive blond woman, elegant in navy blue, followed, and Liz embraced her as well. He should go down and greet her parents, he decided. After all, the Townsends were large contributors to his campaign.

  “Adam, Sean Nichols would like a word with you,” Fitz said, coming alongside. He edged the rotund newspaper reporter closer.

  Putting on a smile, Adam turned to shake Sean’s hand and exchange a few words. Others who’d been on the dais stepped over to congratulate him on a fine speech, so that it took Adam another ten minutes to extricate himself. Finally he clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Would you handle things for me here, Fitz? I have something I have to take care of.”

  As usual, Fitz nodded, and Adam headed to where the Townsends were still chatting. When he was almost there, the blonde in the pink dress intercepted him.

  “Mr. McKenzie,” Diane Cramer cooed, “I just loved your speech. You surely had us all mesmerized.”

  Distracted, he glanced at her. “Thank you.” Up close, he realized he’d met her at his campaign office, but her name escaped him. He recognized a heavy dose of Shalimar and stepped back. He’d always disliked that scent.

  “You look worn out, sugar,” she went on, her polished nails skimming along the sleeve of his dinner jacket. “Maybe you’d like to slip away from all this noise. I know a nice quiet place nearby where—”

  “Some other time, maybe.” Politicians were always polite to their aides and constituents, Fitz told him over and over. He didn’t mean to be rude, but the people he wanted to meet were preparing to leave. He gave her a quick smile. “Thanks for the invitation. Excuse me, please,” he told the blonde, then hurried toward Liz.

  Joseph Townsend saw him approach, and his tan face broke into a smile. “Adam,” he greeted, reaching out a hand. “You had them in the palm of your hand tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Adam liked and admired Joseph and knew him to be a damn fine attorney. After shaking hands, he turned toward Liz, who was on his right.

  Taking her cue, she introduced him to her mother, then drew in someone else. “Adam, I don’t know if you’ve met Richard Fairchild.”

  Again Adam shook hands, recognizing the attorney. “I believe we’ve passed in the courthouse halls. Good to see you, Richard.”

  A staunch Democrat, Richard smiled at the candidate. For some time Joseph had been talking up Adam. Richard decided that McKenzie would be a good man to get to know. “Glad to finally meet you. I was very impressed with the speeches tonight.”

  The talk drifted to the campaign and then to Adam’s platform. He answered the questions politely, curbing his impatience, waiting for that momentary lull in the conversation. Finally it came. “I wonder if you’d excuse us,” he asked, his apologetic smile taking in all three of them as he touched Liz’s elbow. “I need to discuss something with my aide.”

  “Certainly,” Joseph answered immediately, then leaned to kiss his daughter’s cheek. “Be careful,” he murmured.

  “More business yet tonight?” Katherine Townsend asked, raising a brow.

  Adam noticed that Richard seemed a little put out, but the man was too polite to object. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” He looked down at Liz. “Do you mind?”

  As surprised as the rest of them, she shook her head.

  “Great. Good night,” he said to the others, then headed for the double doors. Several people tried to interrupt them, but Adam quickly shook a hand or gave a nod in passing, then lengthened his strides until Liz was having difficulty keeping up with him in her high heels. In the sedate lobby, they stepped onto the plush red-and-gold carpet on their way to the front door.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

  He sent her a mysterious smile. “I have a lady I want you to meet.”

  The name painted on the speedboat was Jezebel, and she was twenty-six feet of fiberglass skimming along the serene dark waters of San Diego Bay under a moon that was mere inches from being full. Having stripped off his jacket and tie, Adam held the wheel lightly and turned to the woman beside him. “So, what do you think of her?”

  The wind was tossing Liz’s hair about, and she loved it. There was no fog tonight, just the lingering heat of the day. She smiled up at him. “She’s a beauty.”

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nbsp; He’d escorted her to his red Datsun 280-Z and refused to disclose their destination until they’d reached the Mission Bay Yacht Club, where he kept his boat moored. Moving with the ease of a man who loved the sea, he quickly had them under way. Liz slipped off her shoes and leaned on the teakwood railing.

  Adam let up on the throttle as they approached the curve nearing La Jolla. They were just far enough out that they could see the lights and make out some buildings in the distance yet not hear the city noises. He cut the engine and let the boat settle, then drift on the calm sea. Joining Liz at the railing, he slipped his arm around her waist. “I love the quiet out here.”

  “Mmm, I can see why.” She inhaled the clean scent of the sea. “This could get addictive.” The gentle swaying was soothing, like being on a favorite rocking chair.

  “I would imagine your father has a boat.” Joseph Townsend struck Adam as a sportsman, a man who took risks and lived life fully. He’d also overheard her father’s whispered words to Liz and wondered why Joseph had thought the warning necessary.

  “He does. A sailboat. My mother gets violently seasick, so she never goes out. I used to sail with him a lot before college. But sailing’s a lot of work. There’s always a line to tie or a sail to tend. This is far more relaxing, I think.”

  He drew her back to the couch along the rear. “I’ve got some soft drinks in the refrigerator in the galley.” But he didn’t stock either wine or booze, well aware he couldn’t afford to drink and drive.

  “I’m not thirsty, but thanks.” Shaking out her hair, she leaned her head back to look at the stars.

  “See that house just past the rocky point?” Adam asked as he pointed toward shore. “The one with the lighted walk leading from the veranda to the sandy beach? A man named Reid owns it. I used to caddy for him summers when I was working at the golf club during my high school days. His wife had died, and he was lonely. He’d invite me over occasionally for lunch. The house is wonderful, with solid oak floors and this great winding staircase. I don’t know why, but I fell in love with that old place, and I’ve wanted to own one just like it ever since.”

  She studied his profile in the moonlight, not mentioning that her parents’ home was perhaps a half a mile from the Reid house, that she’d grown up in the area. Adam had had to struggle in his youth, she knew. Yet now he drove an expensive sports car, had a snazzy boat, and lived in a pricey apartment. “You probably will. You seem to be the kind of person who usually gets what he wants.”

  He turned to face her. “Do you think I’ll win the election?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed. “Just like that? Unconditional faith?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve studied your opponent, and he’s not nearly as dedicated as you are. Nor as honest.”

  “Politics is a tough game. My father had talked about running for office one day. He was a brilliant attorney with a bright future. He could have gone far, if only…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

  “I understand he died when you were young.”

  The memory slammed into him, painful as always. He averted his head so she wouldn’t notice. “Yes, he did.”

  It wasn’t something he talked about ever, or thought about often. His father, the dazzling lawyer with the golden future, who’d fallen so hard for a beautiful woman that he’d abandoned his family and turned his back on his career, finally taking his own life. Adam wondered if he would ever get past the pain and learn to accept what had happened that long-ago summer night.

  When he had himself under control again, he turned to her with a change of subject. “How well do you know Richard Fairchild?”

  “I’ve known him for years. He’s a friend of the family.”

  “I could be wrong, but I got the impression he’d like to be more than friends with you.”

  He saw things many people missed, with those sharp, assessing eyes. She saw no reason to be evasive. “No, you’re not wrong.” Lately Richard had hinted of his growing interest, but she hadn’t encouraged him.

  “And how do you feel about him?”

  “I’m content to have us remain friends.”

  Her answer pleased him. “Do you know why I brought you out here, Liz?”

  She went with her first thought. “To seduce me where I can’t run away?”

  He smiled, slow and lazy. “Liz, when we make love, no one will be seducing. We’ll both want it.” He eased closer, raising a hand to stroke her cheek. “I brought you out here because I wanted to be alone with you—really alone—with no one demanding my attention or yours. No bright lights or noisy people, just the silent sea and the open sky—and you and I sharing the quiet.”

  She felt the trembling begin deep inside as she noted that he’d said “when” they made love, not “if.” “Are you always so sure of yourself? What if I say I don’t want you?”

  “Are you used to lying to yourself?”

  He could read her like a very easy book, and that annoyed her.

  “I also brought you here so I could kiss you with no distractions.” Before she could respond, his mouth took hers.

  She didn’t want to kiss him back, to give him the satisfaction. But her traitorous body overrode her weak determination. His tongue moved into her mouth, and the trembling increased. Without her permission, her arms went around him and her lips opened to him. Liz felt her world tilt, and it had nothing to do with the swaying of the boat.

  When Adam lifted his head, he felt less than steady himself. The jolt of his own reaction surprised him. He saw the awakening in her eyes and wondered if she’d deny it. “As I said before, something’s happening here, something I hadn’t planned on. I want you more than I can ever remember wanting a woman before. I’m not sure why that is.” His puzzled frown was genuine.

  She needed some distance, some time to regroup. Rising, she walked to the railing, hoping he’d attribute her shakiness to the rocking boat. “A challenge, Adam? Am I a challenge to you?”

  “You mean the poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks, on the way up in politics, going after the wealthy debutante?” Shaking his head, he rose to join her. “You’ll soon discover I don’t give a damn about money, though I can appreciate what it can buy. And I wouldn’t care if you were the scrubwoman in my apartment building.”

  His face was close to hers again, close enough that she could feel the heat from his powerful body. “Adam, I—”

  “You’re different from anyone I’ve known, Liz. You look cool, controlled, almost detached. But that kiss told quite another story.” He took hold of her upper arms. “Let’s see if it was a fluke.”

  He kissed her again, and it was better than the last time. He tasted her momentary resistance and then the relaxing that hinted of surrender. And his own frustration. He tugged her closer, felt her begin to yield more completely. The skin of her bare arms warmed as her blood heated. As his was heating, boiling.

  With her back to the railing, he trapped her hips between his strong thighs. A soft moan escaped her as his tongue traced her lips. He dipped his head to trail his hungry mouth along her throat as his unsteady hands molded her lower body to his heated arousal.

  Needs too long denied swam to the surface as Liz’s fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt. Desire licked at her like the suddenly strong waves thrashing against their drifting boat. Steeped in an unfamiliar sensation, she felt herself losing ground.

  A chilling sea spray splashed along Adam’s face, cooling him in more ways than one, and he loosened his hold. He took a step back, breathing hard. “Tell me again, Liz, how you don’t want me.”

  But he felt no satisfaction at the vulnerable look in her eyes. Swearing under his breath, he walked to the wheel and turned on the engine.

  It was time to go back. Past time.

  CHAPTER 3

  Adam rubbed the back of his neck. It had been a grueling three weeks of campaigning up and down the Northern California coast, giving speeches, eating endless rubber chicken dinners, shaking h
ands, smiling. Always smiling. He swung the Datsun onto the off ramp and headed for his San Francisco office.

  All this was necessary, he knew, but it was the part he hated. He’d taken a leave of absence from his own practice to run for office, and he was anxious to get busy with new and bigger cases. Of course, he had to be elected first. Getting elected meant convincing people all over the state that he was the man for the job.

  On this late afternoon, he had his doubts.

  He wanted a hot shower, a cold beer, a good meal, and… and he wanted to be with Liz Townsend.

  Damn, he was spending more and more time thinking about her. Since their boat ride he’d seen her briefly twice, once for a drink at Dobson’s, an old downtown San Diego restaurant, and then at the opening of an art gallery where Molly had had a showing. Yet the kisses that they’d shared had him awake nights, sweating, remembering. And here he was, going to his campaign headquarters instead of to his hotel room because Fitz had told him that several San Diego aides had come up to help the less experienced volunteers at the north California office.

  The man has it bad, he told himself as he turned onto Market Street and spotted a sedan pulling out of a space near his building. Quickly he parked, scowled at his image in the mirror as he ran a hand through his windblown hair, and hurried toward the entrance.

  The place was humming with activity: volunteers on the phones, leaflets being run off, envelopes being addressed, stamp machines clicking, mail being sorted. As Adam strolled in and greeted everyone, his eyes scanned the room, looking for a head of dark red hair and a pair of long, long legs.