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Vanessa tilted her head. “Oh, so you’re admitting your reelection campaign is in trouble?”
“Not trouble,” he insisted, lifting one finger. “Just a bit of a rough spot.”
She broached a wry smile. “I’d say you’re at the top of a raging waterfall about to crash to the rocks below.”
Gregory leaned in closer. “I like to live dangerously,” he murmured in a low voice.
At his words, her pulse raced anew, chasing something elusive and sensual.
She was relieved when he stepped away from the counter and peered into one of the refrigerated cases.
“How’s business been lately?”
It sucks, she thought as she took a sip from her water bottle. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. Had he seen the ledger? She wished she’d waited until he was gone to count the cash drawer.
“Steady. I can’t complain.”
That much was true. Between her walk-in customers, internet orders and those from the hospital, Blooms in Paradise was just breaking even. She hadn’t had a paycheck in months, though, so she was teaching a floral design class at a community college the next town over just to make ends meet. Still, the bills were piling up with no end in sight, and her emergency savings account was almost tapped out.
“Steady,” he repeated to the glass. “That’s good, but growth is even better.”
“At least it’s reliable,” she retorted, and thought she saw his shoulders twitch back.
She hadn’t meant her words to be a slam against him, but when she quickly thought about it, maybe she did. Why couldn’t he just let things in Bay Point stay the same? Sure, things were rough now, but the economy was on the upswing. People would start shopping and eating downtown again. Tourists would rediscover Bay Point’s charm.
Wouldn’t they?
Vanessa squeezed her bottle of water until the plastic crunched loudly. Gregory faced her and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
She felt her blood pressure rise and readied herself for an argument, but he simply turned and walked over to the window.
From where she stood, she knew he was looking at Lucy’s Bar and Grille. Located directly across the street from her shop, it was the only remaining restaurant on downtown Ocean Avenue. All the others had either closed or moved somewhere else.
Gregory chuckled, the sound strangely poignant. “When I was little, my father and I had dinner at Lucy’s often, especially when my mom was in Washington trying to drum up support for her latest cause.”
“She was a lobbyist, correct?”
“She still is.” He nodded, his back ramrod straight. “Anyway, most nights it was so crowded the only reason we got a seat was because we always had a reserved table.”
He turned to Vanessa, and his expression was difficult for her to read.
“I guess it pays to be one of the richest families in town,” she mused.
His eyes found hers, and she was surprised at the whisper of guilt that crossed his face.
“Those were the good old days,” he said, as if he didn’t hear her.
Vanessa skirted around the counter, hoping to put an end to his walk down memory lane. Sometimes the past wasn’t meant to be revisited—it was meant to be forgotten.
“What are you talking about? The Langstons are still one of the wealthiest families in Bay Point. Nothing has changed for you.”
She faced him, folding her arms across her chest. Her body was still heated, but not from desire, from anger.
“If you’re so concerned with memories, what about the Bay Point Carousel?” she accused. “Don’t you know what it means to the community?”
He didn’t answer, but a scowl crossed his face, and she wondered why.
“The carousel is part of our town’s history,” she continued. “You can’t tear it down!”
He turned and leaned against the counter. “I have to do what I think is best for Bay Point.”
Her heart sank, but she remained undeterred. “Are you looking for a vote of approval for your plan? Because you don’t have mine, and you never will.”
He stared at her a moment, and she thought she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes.
“You don’t have to agree with the redevelopment. I just need you to help me convince everyone else in Bay Point. Despite what you think, I am trying to make things better.”
His earnestness almost made Vanessa believe him. But she knew from past experience that guys like him, with their good looks and charm, could suck the heart and independence from a woman. He’d do the very same thing to Bay Point.
“By destroying the legacy of the place you and I grew up in?” she railed. “Somehow I missed that part of your campaign speech, and so did the rest of the town.”
His eyes widened slightly, and he picked up his hat from the counter. She thought he was going to put it on and leave, but then he put it down again.
“Like the carousel, many of the homes are dilapidated and in need of repair. They’re an eyesore on the community.”
The determination in his voice, measured and even, tried to convince her of the practicality of his statement. It also appeared to be a veiled warning that there was no way she could change his mind.
“Those ‘eyesores’ have been in the respective owners’ families and in this community for generations,” Vanessa countered.
She crossed her arms, determined to be just as practical and just as stubborn. “Now you’re going to raze them, and you expect me to help you? Get real, Mayor.”
Gregory moved toward her. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
He touched her shoulder with one fingertip. She jumped back in surprise, but it was too late. The brief contact had already leached a single pulse of fire into her bare skin.
“Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”
“You’ll want to hear this.”
She found it hard to avoid his eyes, so gentle yet commanding attention.
“You remember when we used to play together, right? When we were kids?”
“It was one time, Mayor. Just once.”
“Right. Anyway, remember how we were making mud patties in the back of your grandma’s yard?” he continued, a grin on his face. “I’d water the dirt, and you’d stir it all together with a stick until the ground turned all wet and gooey. Then we’d take our shoes off, step in and squish the mud between our toes. And you’d laugh and laugh.”
“Yeah, so?” she replied, keeping her expression and her tone light.
His lips curved up. “Whether or not you decide to manage my campaign, I’d pay any price to see you smile like that again.”
Her stomach dropped as if she’d just plummeted over a steep hill, yet she managed to ignore the feeling. She brushed past him and opened the door of her shop.
“Leave and I’ll smile for free.”
Gregory turned back to the counter and grabbed his hat. Her eyes settled on the collar of his crisp white shirt, his trim waist and then his pants, which fit nicely over his backside.
He stopped in front of her. When he slid his hat onto his head, it took everything in her power not to take a step back. Though her feet remained rooted to the floor, she felt drawn to him, like a young seedling yearning toward the sky. She could wilt like a flower against him—probably lots of women could and did, but not her.
“Too bad I won’t be around to see it,” he said softly.
Gregory looked into her eyes, and once again she found it difficult to look away.
“Come on, Vanessa. You remember what Bay Point used to be like when we were in school.”
She sniffed. “I barely knew you then, and I don’t know you now. So don’t even act like we were friends, Mayor.”
Gregory laughed. “You act as though we Langstons were kings and everyone else in Bay Point were our serfs. You know that’s not true. Your father was, and still is, a well-respected physician. You certainly weren’t poor,” he pointed out.
“Leave my father—and my family—out of this.”
The frostiness in her tone was unwarranted, and she knew Gregory wasn’t accusing her. Still, his statement galled her. Her family might not have been poor, but they also never had the air of entitlement cloaked around them that the Langston family always had. Or at least, Gregory’s mother and father.
Gregory’s expression sobered again as he plucked one of the red roses from the fresh bouquet she always kept by the door.
“Look, neither of us have any control over our backgrounds, but together you and I could bring back the magic of Bay Point.”
He ran the barely open bud along her jawline, arousing her tender skin until it felt as if it were on fire. She bit the inside of her lip as the heady scent wafted toward her nose, seeming to swirl like a dervish around her head.
“Think about my offer, Vanessa. You won’t regret it.”
Gregory gently tapped the bud on her chin, just once. It was enough to make her throat go dry and wish it were his lips.
He bowed slightly and left, taking the rose with him.
She locked the door, then carefully gathered up the remaining roses and walked over to the refrigerated case. One by one, she placed the stems inside an empty vase. When she was finished, she closed the door and placed her palm against the glass.
She stared at the bouquet of roses. Twelve had become eleven, and she felt as though she’d lost some kind of intimate battle. A war within herself—a war she was tired of fighting.
“We can’t live in the past, Gregory,” she said softly, her warm breath misting against the glass. “But we can’t completely erase it, either.”
Ever since she was a child, she’d always felt safe in the garden. Or now as an adult in her shop. Tending to her flowers. As if they could hide her from anyone, protect her from anything. Help her to remember. Make her forget.
That time was gone. So was her sense of security.
When, Vanessa wondered sadly, had everything changed?
Chapter 3 (#ulink_9a96cf39-9e82-5f93-b46b-bb4d71e000d4)
At 8:00 a.m. the next morning, Gregory angled his car into an empty parking spot on Ocean Avenue in front of city hall and slowly got out. He half expected an angry mob to be waiting there to carry him off to the gallows. But except for a few seagulls strutting about as if the world owed them a meal, the wide stone steps were empty.
He slammed the door, exhaling a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. Clutching his briefcase, he quickly jogged up the stairs, sending the birds squawking and scattering into the cool salty air.
His eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses. How could Vanessa have turned down his offer to be his campaign manager? He still couldn’t believe it, nor could he believe how much she’d changed physically.
Back when he was a prepubescent nine-year-old, somewhere in his psyche, where he involuntarily noticed these things because he was a boy and she was a girl, Gregory had thought she was cute. Yucky, but cute. She liked making mud pies, and that was beyond cool.
But somewhere along the way, when he was off at college and then working at his father’s law firm, she’d grown up to be beautiful. A fact that he’d always known, since he saw her from a distance around Bay Point quite often. Her flower shop was only a few minutes on foot from city hall. However, he’d never truly realized how absolutely stunning she was until yesterday, when he was in the same room with her.
It was everything—her lustrous brown hair, streaked in gold, the hint of the curve of her breasts, the innocent pucker of her nipples covered by the silky fabric of her blouse and the long legs well hidden beneath her skirt, which might as well have been a nun’s habit.
His groin tightened painfully again, as it had been doing ever since last night each time he thought about her.
Vanessa Hamilton was as dangerous to his career as raising property taxes, but she was also necessary to it. He’d spent a long, restless night attempting to figure out a way to change her mind. Instead he’d awoken with a massive hard-on and no solid ideas.
The shouts and screams of toddlers broke through his yawn-sodden thoughts. He turned around and frowned.
Directly across from city hall, the Bay Point Carousel beckoned him like an aging beauty. “Ride me! Ride me!” it seemed to urge. Although the paint on the horses was dull and chipped, the mirrors cracked and the jewels dusty and worn, the carousel held an undeniable fire of mystery. One that he was happy to extinguish. So much so that razing the carousel was in phase one of his downtown redevelopment plan.
He shook his head, recalling how Vanessa had gotten all bent out of shape that he was going to tear the ancient structure down. Although he didn’t know for sure, the carousel seemed to be more to her than just a relic of Bay Point’s history. A small part of him wanted to know why, but the other part of him couldn’t wait to get rid of the town’s “legacy,” which held nothing but bad memories for him.
Besides, politics always trumped preservation. Everybody knew that, he told himself, and promptly dismissed the guilt that suddenly bubbled within him from out of nowhere. The carousel would be replaced with a beautiful garden, a contemporary fountain and green spaces that would be free of insurance liability issues and high maintenance costs.
“Everyone’s going to love it, including Vanessa!” he muttered to himself. With or without her, somehow he’d have to convince the citizens of Bay Point that his plan was the right thing to do.
He turned away and entered the building through the revolving doors. The cool air engulfed him, and he shivered a little as he nodded at the security guard. Then he took the elevator to the fourth floor, where his office was located.
“Good morning, Mariella.”
“Morning, Mayor.” She jerked a thumb toward his open door. “Mr. Stodwell is here to see you, and he’s in your office.” She dropped her voice low. “I’m sorry. I told him that you prefer visitors to wait out here, but he ignored me and barged right in.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “How was soccer practice?”
Mariella’s face beamed with surprise. “Great. It was only a scrimmage match, but Josh scored his first goal of the season!”
“That’s great. Maybe he’s another Beckham in the works, and we’ll finally have a winning team in Bay Point.” He put his fingers to his lips. “But don’t tell Coach Perkins I said so, because he thinks the only ball that should be in play in this town is a football.”
Mariella giggled. “Your secret is safe with me. There’s fresh coffee. Want some?”
“How many cups has Mr. Stodwell had?”
Mariella held up two fingers, and he shook his head. “Then I’d better ace this one alone—without the help of caffeine.”
Gregory opened his office door. Mr. Stodwell gestured toward the window with his coffee cup. “Those kids out there. Where do they get their energy?”
Gregory laid his briefcase on his desk and snapped it open, revealing the rose from Vanessa’s shop. He’d forgotten he’d put it there, and he quickly closed the briefcase before Stodwell spotted it. He still didn’t know why he’d kept the now-wilted bud, other than the fact that the petals had once touched her skin. He wished it had been his fingers instead.
“I’m sure the sugar fixes don’t help,” Gregory offered.
