Rescue Me (Butler Island) (21 page)

Chapter 25

It’d only taken another five minutes for Mr. Jetson to
appear behind the jewelry display again. The items he’d selected for the
auction were simply beautiful, three necklaces and two brooches, varying from
classically elegant to glamorously ornate. After thanking him profusely for his
generosity, Lana set her sights on Leo’s Italiano, trying to ignore the
uneasiness settling in the pit of her gut.

She’d been experiencing that feeling a lot lately—sort of
like a sixth sense. Apprehension and awareness would trickle down her spine and
burrow deep in the hollow of her stomach. Immediately she’d become alert, only
she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to be looking for.

“Hi, I’m meeting someone—”

The hostess glanced from the seating chart splayed across
the podium’s surface and smiled. “Tall, attractive in an
I’m-intelligent-and-important
kind of way?” The young woman inquired.

“Um, well, I—”

The girl smiled again, turning her back on Lana in
mid-sentence. “Right this way.”

She followed the hostess into the dimly lit dining room,
weaving through a slew of near empty tables before entering a long, narrow
corridor. The sounds of dishes clanking together, the low rumble of boiling
pasta, and the organized chaos of chefs busily preparing authentic, gourmet
cuisine greeted her on the other side as they passed through the kitchen,
finally coming to a halt at a private corner booth.

“Anything I can get you?” Lana heard the young college
girl ask.

“Already been taken care of, Meagan”, the mayor replied.

Lana sank into the booth, dropping her purse down on the
seat beside her, noting how Meagan nearly melted at hearing her name on the
Mayor’s lips. Mayor Cliffburg didn’t seem to notice the effect he had on the
poor girl. Good, considering he was nearly twice her age.

“That was quick”, he stated.

“Yeah, and we even managed to get two additional pieces:
two brooches. Guess he really took my generosity spiel to heart.”

“That’s because you’re a hard woman to say no to.”

There it was again—that cold, odd zing. Fidgeting
uncomfortably in her seat, she reached for her glass of ice water and took a
sip.

“Here you are, sir”, the waiter announced after placing
two wine goblets on the white-clothed tabletop. “Our finest Cabernet
Sauvignon.” He presented the bottle to the mayor, allowing him to read the
label, then worked the corkscrew into position.

“I wish you hadn’t done that”, she said, gesturing toward
the now open wine bottle. “I’m fine with just drinking water.”

“You can’t just drink water on a night like tonight.”

“A night like tonight.” she slowly echoed, baffled.
“What’s tonight?”

“Tonight’s the night we celebrate all the hard work
you’ve put into making the very first
Jimmy Phillips, Jr. Charity Auction
a success.”

“Isn’t that a little presumptuous? I mean, talking Mr.
Jetson into donating a handful of one-of-a-kind accessories is only half the
battle; we still need people to bid on them.”

“Of which I have no doubt they will.” Mayor Cliffburg
gently nudged the wine goblet toward her. “Besides, does there really need to
be a reason to enjoy a delicious glass of red wine at the end of a busy day?”

Maybe she was overreacting a bit. After all he’d kindly
accompanied her this evening, lending his stature and support to a cause very
near and dear to her heart. In fact, none of this would’ve even been possible
if not for him. It was no secret the city of Butler Island was still in the
midst of a budget crisis, which left funding for events, like the one they were
currently planning, very limited.

And yet he’d suggested it anyway, honoring her late
husband’s selfless sacrifice. Lana reluctantly reached for the goblet, completely
perplexed by the crescendo of mistrust creeping up spine. “I guess one glass
couldn’t hurt.”

“Atta girl...”

Everything was going according to plan, he acknowledged
as he topped her glass off again. His clever imagination really astounded him
sometimes. Sure it’d taken a little convincing on his part to get Lana to agree
to the wine, but he wasn’t below playing dirty in order to get what he wanted.

All it’d taken was a few sips of robust cabernet to
loosen her up a bit, and a feigned interest into the man her late husband was,
and he was swiftly back on track. He’d engaged her mind, distracting her
lovely, deep-blue eyes away from his hustling hands—hands artfully refilling
her glass in steady increments.

Currently, she was babbling on about her son, Cody…
Carson… Hell, did it really matter what his name was? The kid was a spitting
image of his good-for-nothing dad and a little hellion to boot.

He hated kids.

Snotty noses, temper tantrums, whining, always demanding
attention…

Needless to say, pursuing a single mom wasn’t his usual
M. O. I mean, what man in his right mind wanted to share a woman with a bratty
kid that wasn’t even his?

But there was just something about Lana
Phillips—something that grabbed him by the balls and made him take notice. For
seven long years he’d wanted her. Oh, he tried to move past his bone-deep
attraction, using various women over the years to ease the yearning.

But it’d never worked, of course; there’s no substitution
for perfection.

“And what about
you
.”

“Me?” Lana asked, palming her chest.

“Yes. How are you handling things? I’m sure the anniversary
of Jimmy’s passing isn’t going to be easy.”

“No”, she uttered almost inaudibly. “It’s not.”

Time to go in for the kill
. “You
know”—he reached for her hand, reassuringly caressing her silk-like skin with
the pad of his thumb—“you’re not alone. It’s going to be a hard day for a lot
of people—me included... I can’t tell you how many sleepless nights I’ve spent
going over that day in my mind; how differently things may’ve turned out if
only I’d have contacted Chief Handler—asked him to stand down.”

Lana slid closer in the corner booth, narrowing the
twelve-inch gap between them. “What happened to Jimmy wasn’t your fault, Mayor
Cliffburg. And we both know you had no authority to reject the fire department
from responding to that brush fire.”

His eyes bored into hers for a stretch. “Michael”, he
finally said.

“What?”

“Call me, Michael. You’ve been my secretary for the past
seven years, Lana. Think we’re far beyond formalities by now, don’t you? And
about Jimmy’s death being my fault: logically, I know it isn’t. But I can’t
help but feel indirectly responsible in some way.”

Candlelight flickered across her pretty face, making her
eye’s gleam. Concern swam in their blue depths. Okay, so admittedly he usually
wasn’t one for pity-fucks—never had to resort to that kind of ploy before. But
he liked where this was going. Maybe he’d been going on about this all wrong.
Maybe the key to getting Lana Phillips naked wasn’t his ability to console her.
No, it was about her comforting
him
.

“You’re not responsible—no one is…”

Unable to resist, he let his gaze lower to her luscious
lips. He wanted to taste them, nibble on them—

“Wow, you certainly move fast, don’t you?” Jenny Carson
stood before them, gripping a white bus tub, her auburn hair pulled back into a
high ponytail. “First, Tommy; now the Mayor.”

“Excuse me?” Lana asked incredulously. “I never—”

“Let me guess: you never slept with my husband, right?
Well you know what?—doesn’t really make a damn bit of difference. Half the town
saw the two of you cuttin’ up the dance floor that night. They settled on a
conclusion. And they couldn’t wait to run back and share it with me.”

Mayor Cliffburg sensed some serious animosity between the
two women. Serious animosity.

“You know, Jenny, we’ve been friends for a long time—good
friends. And to think you’d believe a bar full of loose-lipped instigators over
the word of a good friend, shows how very little you must actually think of
me.”

The two women were silent for a stretch. The Mayor’s eyes
cautiously darted back and forth between them. The air was thick with tension.

“You don’t even want to know what I think of you at the
moment”, Jenny seethed through clenched teeth. “I’ll spare you the expletives
since you’re on a date.”

Lana gestured between her and the mayor. “This isn’t a
date, it’s a business—”

Jenny stepped forward, resting the bus tub on the edge of
the table. “Sittin’ in a private, romantic corner booth away from prying eyes,
candlelight, wine, the two of you practically holding hands… How do you expect
me to believe a word that comes out of your mouth when you can’t even fess up
to what this—“she swept her hand in the air—“really is?” Sensing she’d
successfully made her point, Jenny picked up the large, white bus tub and
disappeared into the kitchen.

“I’m really sorry about that”, Lana offered quietly.

“No apology necessary. Really.” He looked her over for a
few beats, noting how her brows drew together, how her hands trembled. “I sense
there’s a story behind what just happened.” Lana nodded feebly. “You all
right?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” She paused for a moment, running her
fingers through her milk chocolate hair. “I’m sorry, can you just…take me back
to my car, now? I’d really like to just go home.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.” Mayor Cliffburg caught
the waiter’s attention and asked for the check. As predicted, Lana reached into
her purse for her wallet the moment the waiter placed the black leather check
presenter on the tabletop. “Don’t even think about it. Tonight’s on me.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’. Tell you what: I’ll let you buy next time.”
Because there
would
be a next time. He’d see to it.

With a weak nod she let go of her purse, quietly waiting
for the waiter to return with the receipt. Mayor Cliffburg hurriedly scribbled
his name, then gestured toward the back exit with his chin. “Ready?”

Nodding, she slid to the edge of the booth, rising
unsteadily to her feet, quickly gripping the edge of the table for balance.

“Whoa, you all right?”

“Yeah, I…” Pursing her lips, she slowly released a stream
of air. “Wow, I guess the wine decided to pick this moment to kick in.”

“Between that and the fact you barely touched your food,
I’d say so.”

Lana tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and
closed her eyes. “Gosh, this is so embarrassing”, she uttered on a sigh. “What
kind of person gets drunk in front of their boss?”

The mayor sidled up beside her. “’I’m more than just your
boss, Lana. At the very least, I’d like to think we’re friends.” And then it
happened. Lana opened her eyes, turning those deep-blue peepers on him and
smiled.

“We are. And I hope you believe me when I say I don’t
normally get like this—drunk, that is.”

Smiling, Mayor Cliffburg offered to escort her back to
his car. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home. You’re in no condition to get behind the
wheel of your car at the moment.”

Chapter 26

Neither of them spoke much during the ten minute drive
back to Butler Island. Lana had nestled her gorgeous body against the cream
leather of his 1966 Ford T-bird, resting her head against the seat back while
the wind twirled wisps of caramel hair around her pretty face.

Her navy skirt had climbed several inches upon sitting,
revealing the smooth flawless skin along her lean thighs. His mouth watered at
the thought of kissing his way up those silky legs…

Swallowing a rousing groan he squirmed in his seat,
suddenly aware of the cramped conditions in the crotch of his gray Dockers.
“You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

The back of her skull still resting against the seat, she
turned her head and gave him one of those tantalizing smiles he’d become so
fond of. “Don’t think I’m that far gone, Michael.”

Michael
… Hearing his name on her lips delivered a sharp jolt of
lust to his groin again. Unknowingly he increased the pressure on the
accelerator, eager to get her home and make his move.

He noted the black Mini Cooper parked along the edge of
the street as he maneuvered his car into the drive. It belonged to Olivia
Everitt—now Womack: the wild woman whose three-hour Jet-ski joyride as a
teenager became the stuff of legends around these parts. She was a brilliant
photographer—pretty, too—but her free-spirited, gutsy attitude and sassy mouth
did nothing for him.

Nada.

Shoving the car into
PARK
, he drew
in a deep breath.

“Thanks for the ride”, she murmured softly. “The food,
the wine—everything… It was really sweet.” Flashing him a grateful grin, she
reached for the door handle.

“W-wait!” He stammered, reaching for her arm in a
desperate attempt to keep her from leaving the car. “There’s… there’s something
I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Okaaay”, she drawled, puzzled, leaning back into her
seat again.

Swallowing hard he forged ahead. “It’s about us. Look, I
know you’ve spent the last year trying to piece your life back together again.
I won’t pretend to know what that’s like, because I don’t.” He palmed the side
of her face with his left hand, subtly stroking her cheek with the pad of his
thumb. “Your strength and courage over the last year… Well, it was a
fascinating thing to watch.”

“Um, I—”

“We have a connection, you and I. I’ve felt it for a
really long time, and tonight I think you felt it too.”

“I think—”

“C’mon, Lana”, he mumbled, leaning in to her. “Don’t
fight it.” He was halfway to her luscious mouth when the palms of her hands
pressed against his chest, her eyes wide with panic.

“I-I’m sorry, but…I think you’ve got this all wrong,
Mayor Cliffburg.”

Pulling back, he leaned his shoulder against the leather
seat. “
Mayor Cliffburg
… Are we back to formalities again?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” Lana took in a liter of air and
slowly blew it through her pursed pink lips. “This is sort of sudden.”

“Not for me, it isn’t… I’m… I’m in lo—”

Lana’s eyes slid closed. “Please, don’t. Just...
don’t
.”

He eyed her for a stretch, completely baffled. How had he
misread her signals? He just didn’t understand it. “Okay… I have to admit,
Lana, this isn’t how I pictured tonight ending.”

“How did you picture it? You know what?—on second
thought, don’t answer that.”

“So, tonight: bad timing?” He asked drumming the steering
wheel lightly with the side of his thumb.

Hugging her purse close to her chest, she cleared her
throat. “Something like that, yes. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Olivia’s had Connor
since he got out of school, and I’m sure she’s ready to head home.”

Mayor Cliffburg nodded sharply. “Of course.” She reached
for the handle and gave the heavy door a firm push. He gave her smooth legs a
parting peruse as she maneuvered out of the car. “Hey, Lana”, he called when she
finally stood.

“Yes.”

“I hope you won’t hold tonight against me.”

Closing the door, Lana bent her knees and peered through
the open window. “Same goes.”

And then she was gone. He idled in her driveway until she
was safely inside her home. Tonight hadn’t gone like he’d expected. If it had,
she’d be halfway to naked right now. Backing out of her drive, he continued
down her street until he reached the stop sign, and then took a left.

He wasn’t giving up on Lana Phillips. She just needed
more time to get used to the idea.

What he needed was a new tactic—a new ploy. It would take
some time to formulate a fool-proof plan, but then again he had plenty of that,
didn’t he? And if his first date with the lovely Lana Phillips tonight proved
anything, it was that she was well worth the torturous wait.

“Hey! How’d it go tonight?” Olivia greeted at the sound
of the front door opening. “You get more donations for the—Sweet baby Jesus,
you all right?”

Lana leaned her back against the door, nudging it closed
with her body. “Connor sleeping?”

“Yeah, I took him home with me after school to play
Frisbee with Dexter on the beach. We came back around seven and he conked out
just before eight. What’s goin’ on?”

Dexter was Grant and Olivia’s chocolate lab. Connor was
an active kid with droves of energy—didn’t usually tire easily. Lana made a
mental note to use Dexter in the future when her son needed an energy drain.
“Something happened tonight.”

“Well, obviously. Spill it.”

“The mayor just tried to kiss me.”

“What! When?”

“Just now, in his car.”

“What were you doing in his car?—wait”, Olivia interrupted,
placing her palms in front of her. “Before you answer that, you sit down. I’ll
get us a glass of wine.” She returned less than a minute later, handing Lana a
glass of white zinfandel before plopping down on the couch next to her. “Okay,
I wanna know everything; don’t you dare leave anything out.”

Lana explained how innocently the evening began, how
Mayor Cliffburg came to accompany her, and how she’d finally ended up tipsy,
idling in the passenger seat of his car in her driveway mere minutes ago.

“Wow… You see”, Olivia began, pointing her finger at
Lana, “this is why I became a freelance photographer: no creepy bosses to worry
about. What’re you gonna do?”

“What do you mean, what am I gonna do? I need this job,
Liv; I’m not exactly in a position financially to quit, right now.”

Olivia propped her elbow on the back of the couch,
resting the side of her head against her hand. “Think he’ll treat you any
differently from now on?”

Lana shook her head, tracing the lip of her wine glass
with her fingertip. “No, I don’t think so. He was very nice about the whole
rejection thing.”

“Well, of course he was. Most politicians are bred to be
well-mannered and courteous—which makes the inevitable retaliation all the more
surprisin’. Because kindhearted, optimistic people like you never see it
comin’.”

“He’s not a bad person, Liv.”

“Don’t let your friendship with the mayor shroud your
good judgment, sugar. Because at the end of the day, a wolf in sheep’s clothing
is still a wolf… Just promise me you’ll be careful, all right?”

Lana flashed a weak smile. “I will.”

The slivered moon was a sight to behold in the cloudless,
night sky tonight, made all the more striking by the array of twinkling stars
embedded in its dark vastness. And if Randall listened closely he was certain
he could even hear the calm Gulf as it gently lapped the sandy shore.

The residents of Butler Island were a fairly predictable
bunch, rarely swaying from their humdrum routines. On any given weeknight most
everyone was nestled in their cozy homes by nightfall, lights out by ten
o’clock; which was precisely why Randall had waited until eleven
P.M
. on the dot to throw on some basketball shorts, a tee,
and a pair of running shoes. His course varied every night, but the destination
always remained the same: Lana’s house.

Tonight his weary body ached as his feet struck the
pavement, jarring his raw, painful joints, pulverizing the bones in his knees
to fine dust. He’d spent his days off during the previous month laboring on his
Boston Whaler. Truthfully the vessel should’ve been refinished months ago, but
needless to say he’d been preoccupied with more… important things.

Randall rounded the corner onto Third Street, sucking salty
air into his lungs. The moment he spotted the familiar gray and white house he
was revived, the bone-deep ache he’d experienced moments ago replaced with an
inherent yearning.

A deep-seated urge to burn the midnight oil loving on
Lana’s unclad body took hold, pushing his body forward. Climbing the front
porch steps he let himself in with the key he’d been given a few months ago,
surprised to see light spilling from the kitchen.

But even more surprising was the discovery of Lana
sitting on the counter, her legs dangling over the edge, her head resting
against the maple cabinetry. Her deep-blue eyes were staring at the ceiling as
if the secret to life was hidden in the roughened texture.

“A penny for your thoughts...”

 Startled, Lana’s head swiftly turned, following the low
tenor of his voice. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Moving into the kitchen he stepped in
front of her, bracing his large hands on the counter. “Rough day?”

“I think it’s getting better, now.”

“Yeah?”

Lana smiled. “Yeah.”

Her thin pink nightshirt was slightly askew, invariably
revealing one of her bare shoulders. Unable to resist he dipped his head,
spreading soft kisses along her smooth, vanilla-scented skin.

“Yeah”, she sighed. “Definitely better.”

His mouth traveled to the crook of her neck, tasting,
nibbling. “Let’s continue this in your bedroom, shall we?” He graveled, lifting
her body from the counter. It took every ounce of control he possessed to set
her feet on the ground. Hell, he’d have taken her right there on the kitchen
counter if not for the fact that Connor was sleeping down the hall.

Yes, they’d certainly upped the risk by having sex in the
house with her son home—but somehow keeping their hands off one another the
last month had seemed… riskier. They did take precautions: he arrived by foot
at eleven-fifteen, they locked her bedroom door, they were quiet. And when
their bodies were sated, he’d slip from her bed and return home, counting down
the hours until he could do it again.

Following her down the hall they made a left into the
dark master bedroom. Quietly nudging the door closed behind him Randall turned
the lock. The air was thick with sexual energy and the hypnotizing scent of
vanilla, a potent combination that sent an electric jolt of lust to his groin.

“Where were we?” Lana asked, her voice soft and eager.
“Randall?”

Wrapping his arms around her small frame, he hauled her
close, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. “Right here, Sweetheart.
Right here.”

Randall had been lying next to Lana for over an hour,
listening to the slow easy rhythm of her breaths. He shouldn’t be here; it was
just after five in the morning. He should be home—in his own bed—catching up on
some much-needed shut-eye. But somehow the thought of leaving this bed—this woman—paralyzed
him. His heart kicked against his chest.

He was in love with her…

And that terrified him.

They couldn’t keep doing this—sneaking around, night
after night. He’d been fooling himself to think there could ever be a future
with Lana. He wanted one, though—God, he wanted one. But he’d been living in a
fabled state, where pleasure ruled and love prevailed. A place where criticism
ceased to exist. A safe-haven where consciences were clean of greed and guilt.

Cautiously untangling his limbs, Randall eased from the
bed and reached for his clothes. He glanced over his shoulder one last time
before he stepped into the hallway, knowing it’d probably be the last time he’d
see her like this: content, peaceful.

“It has to be this way, Sweetheart”, he whispered softly.
“I’m sorry.”

Moments later he slipped into the stillness of pre-dawn,
directing his tired legs forward. And although he wanted to, he didn’t look
back.