Something to Believe In (14 page)

He’d nodded and briefly considered the idea, but it came down
to this: he didn’t want to screw some other chick to wipe away Lilah in his
memory—not that it would work—he wanted to make more memories. Lots of them. He
wanted to take her to Times Square on New Year’s Eve and watch as her eyes lit
up with awe as the ball dropped. He wanted to take her to art museums and
galleries and fine restaurants just to experience each from her perspective.
There was a sweetness to Lilah that couldn’t be replicated but even more
alluring than her sweetness was that raw, primal animal lurking beneath the
surface that she unleashed in private moments. He shuddered with the memory and
his groin ached as his pants suddenly tightened. God, he missed her. The smell
of her skin, an intoxicating blend of coconut-scented sunscreen and island
wildness, was permanently etched in his scent receptors and he knew nothing
short of burning out his nose would ever change that.

He had to go back. He had to talk to her again. If even just to
get some kind of real closure.

He rose to stalk from the room, intent on booking a plane that
very second when his father entered the room with his team of campaign advisors
and general minions who worked expressly for the senator.

“Ah, the man of the hour. Gentlemen, you remember my son,
Justin Cales? Soon to be Senator Cales if we play our cards right,” he said,
winking at his senior advisor, Rudy Bench.

“Of course. The resemblance is striking. I’d pick him out of
the crowd as your son any day,” Rudy said smoothly, reaching out to shake
Justin’s hand vigorously. “I just want to say, it’s an honor to work alongside
you to help continue the Cales political tradition. Your father has created some
very big shoes to fill but I’m sure you’re up to the job.”

“Rudy will be your right-hand man. He will handle your press
conferences and campaign appearances. He will also be your go-to guy for
anything that needs massaging. But seeing as you won’t be having any more of
those unfortunate incidents happening, I’m sure that particular skill set will
not be needed. Isn’t that right, son?”

He was referencing the stripper incident. Justin gave the man a
terse nod, irritated all over again, but good manners wouldn’t permit him to
make a caustic comment in front of the team. “I’m pleased to represent the Cales
family,” he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “I hope to do your
faith proud.”

“No worries there,” Rudy said, smiling. “However, we should
talk about any dust that might spring up on the campaign trail. We need complete
honesty if we’re to campaign you successfully. You know your competitors will do
whatever they can to dredge up dirt that might aid their own candidacy.” Rudy
looked him square in the eye with the gaze of a sharpshooter. “Is there anything
else we should be made aware of?”

“No...not that I know of, aside from the stripper picture that
was already splashed across the newspapers and internet blogs.”

“That’s already been handled,” Rudy said briskly. “The official
story is you suffered an unfortunate fall in the darkened club and landed in an
embarrassing position just in time for the paparazzi to snap their picture. It
was all an unfortunate misunderstanding, blown up in sensationalistic style to
sell advertising for the various outlets. But we can’t have more of that, you
understand. From now on, you’re the picture of moral and healthy living. Do you
work out?”

“Yes,” he said. “An hour a day.”

“Good. We’d like to see you running in Central Park to show
that you’re the everyman’s politician. We’re running your platform on the steam
of the everyman’s man. You eat at the same restaurants, enjoy the same
entertainments and you’re there to look out for the ordinary citizen. You’re
young and capable, handsome to boot. Are you dating anyone? No? Good. We have a
few suitable women you might be seen squiring around town.”

It was all moving so quickly that Justin barely had time to
voice a protest before he was being whisked away for a new wardrobe—his official
campaign wardrobe. He was to appear smart and capable but down-to-earth and very
approachable.

In between a tailor getting up close and personal with his
balls—or inseam, as the man snippily put it when Justin growled at him to stop
copping a feel—he realized with a sinking heart, there was no way he’d be able
to board a plane now that he had his entourage firmly in place. Rudy would
wrangle him before he could step foot in the terminal.

Justin briefly shut his eyes and swallowed the odd lump that
rose in his throat as he mentally said goodbye to the woman who haunted his
heart.

It was probably better this way, anyway.

Who was he kidding?

Lilah would hate New York.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

L
ILAH
WALKED
INTO
THE
ATRIUM
and smiled as the familiar warm and sultry
smells of lush greenery assaulted her nostrils. Perhaps it was all in her head,
but since becoming pregnant smells seemed so much more vibrant than before,
almost alive under her nose. Unlike other smells, such as the aroma of popcorn,
which made her want to puke, this one made her want to sink down and roll around
in it. She went to her secret closet as she liked to call it and pulled out her
painting supplies. Her mind was brimming with something that needed out,
something that itched at the confines of her brain and demanded air or else.
Even though fatigue dragged at her lids, she made a point never to ignore that
creative impulse. She needed to paint as much as she needed to breathe, and when
her mind was troubled, painting was her only salvation.

She moved on autopilot as she set up her supplies. The fresh
creamy canvas beckoned and she savored the familiar thrill at facing a blank
template. It was this point that seemed magical, where anything could happen and
the world was full of possibilities. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.
Here she found solace from the world, the problems that chased her down, and
from the fear that rode her dreams.

A part of her had hoped—like a foolish girl—that Justin would
return to her and everything would be perfect. Of course, in her daydream, when
she told him of their baby, he swooped her in his arms and professed his undying
love for her, pledging his heart to their little family.

And they lived happily ever after.

Okay, so that was a little melodramatic, she supposed, but it
was her daydream and she could make it as improbable as she pleased.

Besides, if a girl was going to dream, she might as well dream
big.

Lilah rarely knew what she was going to paint when she started
off, but soon enough a picture always emerged. Sometimes Lilah was shocked by
what appeared, though why she didn’t know. It all came from her head, right? But
somehow, it didn’t always seem that way. Sometimes, frightfully, it seemed as if
she were two people living in one body. And she never knew which one was taking
over.

She knew how that sounded and thus, it seemed only right she’d
been medicated but it wasn’t that she was split personality or anything like
that. It was just that when she created something, she never set out to do so,
it just happened and that’s when she felt that other half took over. Call it her
muse, or whatever, but when that happened, it was as if she’d slipped into a
trance and when she emerged, she’d created something masterful and scary,
evocative and raw.

Her heart bled onto the canvas with each stroke, leaching the
pain that would certainly crack her soul in two if she didn’t find a release
valve.

Swipes of the brush, dipped in midnight-blue, slapped against
the canvas, melded with vibrant splashes of spring-yellow and married with
bloodred.

An image emerged as it always did.

That lonely girl. The same girl who walked into the sea and
yearned to sleep at the bottom stared off into a dark and turbulent distance,
that familiar sense of longing and sadness draped around her thin shoulders as
she lifted a slim hand as if to say, “Come back.” The skies roiled in an angry
clash of the gods, commanding an equally dangerous sea. Gone were the normally
placid waters; now they churned. The green jungle pressed at her back,
supporting her, curling around her ankles in thin, searching root tendrils,
anchoring her to the ground. Protecting her from anything that might try to rip
her from the land.

Her face, slightly turned in profile, was lifted to the sky, as
if daring it to bring its worst, or perhaps she was simply resigned to her fate
yet not afraid.

By the time Lilah put the finishing touches on the painting,
she was exhausted. Time had flown and darkness had begun to fall. She stepped
away and surveyed her work as if seeing it for the first time. She was the
lonely girl.

She always had been.

Only this time, she wasn’t going to walk into calm waters and
hide. She was going to face the storm with courage, no matter how fierce the
wind howled.

At least she hoped.

This was her chance to show everyone that she could handle big
things. She wasn’t fragile or weak. She had to be strong for her baby.

* * *

J
USTIN
WAS
RIDING
A
HIGH
.
He’d just finished his first campaign tour and he’d acquired a taste for victory
in the five months he’d been hitting every town and city within New York. He’d
gathered a respectable following and he was hungry to win.

Hell, he had every expectation to win. And he wanted it.

“Son, I’m real proud of you,” his father said with a warm,
approving smile that nearly shocked Justin out of his high. Over the past few
months Justin and his father had slowly stopped snarling at each other, and what
had started as fake smiles for the camera, had evolved into genuine respect and
admiration as Justin had learned firsthand all the good work his father had done
over the years while in office. The memory of all those missed birthdays and
baseball games seemed to fade under the weight of the reason his father had been
too busy for him. When he wasn’t so royally pissed off at the old man, he’d had
the opportunity to see that his father was, in fact, a good man. Still, it was a
shock to the system to have his father standing behind him with full support.
Made him wonder how things might’ve been different between them if Justin had
realized this fact much earlier in his life. Justin swallowed and accepted his
well-earned beer from Rudy as his father did the same. They clinked beer bottles
and his father said, “That was a singularly spectacular speech. If I wasn’t
already voting for you, you’d definitely have my vote.”

“He’s got enough charisma to convince people that a useless
swamp is prime real estate,” Rudy commented with open glee. “The people want to
believe in him. It’s a good sign, I can tell you that.”

Pride shone in his father’s eyes. Justin had to admit, it felt
good to be on the same side for once. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d
been able to sit around enjoying a beer together like this. Hell, if ever.

“I knew you would be a natural, son,” he said. “The people
already believe in you. First stop, the Senate, then...who knows?”

Justin laughed ruefully. “I don’t know about that, Dad. Let me
win this first and then we’ll see. But you know it’s easy to sell what you
believe in. I never realized how important health care reform was until I took a
tour of that children’s hospital. It’s ridiculous that fat-cat bureaucrats have
full coverage when kids go without. I aim to push as many health care reforms as
I can manage. I grew up with everything I ever needed. I never realized that for
some people they have to make the choice between taking their child to the
doctor and buying food for the week because they don’t have insurance and a trip
to the doctor will cost an arm and a leg. Health care shouldn’t be a privilege,”
he added quietly, still feeling the impact of the hospital visit. “If I’m ever
able to do anything worth remembering, I hope it’s something that will help
future generations and I can’t think of a better place to start than ensuring
kids have access to quality health care.”

“It’s an excellent platform, but be judicious about it. We
don’t want to alienate your campaign supporters who might be considered one of
those ‘fat cats,’ as you called them,” Rudy warned.

“I’ll try,” he said, but that was the part about politics he
didn’t like. The idea of kissing ass to gain favors rubbed him the wrong way.
Still, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. At the moment, he was doing
well on his own, but he knew eventually he’d run up against that moral wall.

“Listen to Rudy, son. He knows his stuff,” his father advised
with a final swig of his beer. “Passion is good but you have to temper that
passion with reason or else you’ll lose all the ground you’ve gained. Well—” his
father sighed and rubbed his hand over his stomach “—I’ll leave you to talk
shop. I promised your mother dinner at her favorite restaurant,” he said with a
heavy exhale, adding with chagrin, “Some fancy French place that will probably
give me indigestion. The things I do for love. Good night, boys.”

“Night, Dad.”

“Evening, Vernon.”

After his father left, the discussion wandered across various
topics until Rudy hoisted himself free from the chair and said, “So, you’ve
earned yourself some R & R, what do you plan to do with yourself for the
next two weeks?” His gaze was sharp and alert as he awaited Justin’s answer. It
wasn’t only polite interest that spurred the question. For all intents and
purposes, Rudy was his wrangler and it was his job to approve all of Justin’s
adventures.

“Take a much-needed nap,” Justin quipped lightly before lifting
his beer to his mouth. He swallowed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t
decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you do, keep in mind you’re always in the
voters’ line of sight. Keep your nose clean and stick to your mantra—”

“If I wouldn’t do it in plain sight of my mother, don’t do it,”
Justin finished for him. Rudy smiled in approval. “I’m not that crazy playboy
anymore. This campaign has really opened my eyes to a few things and I want to
help become the change this city needs.”

“I love your idealism. It’s refreshing, even if a little naive.
But no worries. Let’s get you into the Senate seat first and then go from
there.”

Justin nodded and finished his beer. His thoughts drifted to
Lilah and as always his heart sped up. He’d hoped distance and time would dull
his obsession but there were nights all he did was clench his fists to keep from
calling her at ridiculous hours of the night. Now he had two weeks to kill and
the one person he should’ve forgotten about by now was the one person he
couldn’t shake.

“So who’s in St. John?” Rudy asked casually, startling Justin
with his keen-eyed question.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You’ve booked a plane ticket to St. John. Wasn’t that the
place your father sent you to, to sow your wild oats as they used to say? Just
wondered if there was anyone in particular you left behind.”

“Not really,” Justin answered as casually as possible. He
didn’t want Rudy knowing about Lilah. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t approve and
Justin would never subject Lilah to that kind of scrutiny. “But I found the
place really relaxing. It’s quiet and the pace is slow. After the breakneck
speed we’ve been traveling, I’m looking forward to a little peace and quiet in a
place no one knows.”

“Sounds lovely. Maybe I’ll tag along?”

“No,” Justin said firmly. “I need a break. Even from you,
Rudy.”

“Ah. I understand.” Rudy stood and collected their empty beer
bottles. “Well, enjoy your two-week sabbatical. When you return we hit the trail
hard. I also have a few ladies for you to consider for the fund-raiser dinner.
It would look good to have a nice lady on your arm, someone with impeccable
pedigree and possibly well-connected parents. Voters trust a man who is in a
committed relationship. A bachelor is too loose of a cannon. Besides, tying in
an engagement could be good press. Think about it.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said in a noncommittal manner. He really
didn’t want to discuss his romantic life with Rudy. It felt wrong and fake,
which it was. In his heart, he belonged to Lilah, which was a fatal flaw he
knew, but he couldn’t help it.

By this time tomorrow he’d be walking into Larimar. It was for
closure, he told himself. Closure that he needed to move on.

But a small voice in his heart was too busy singing to listen
to the brain’s lies.

All that mattered was seeing Lilah one last time.

* * *

“Y
OU
HAVE
THE
CUTEST
BELLY
I’ve ever
seen,” Lora remarked wistfully as she gazed at Lilah when she crossed the lobby
to double check if an art piece was still available for an internet order that
came through this morning. “You hardly look pregnant at all.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lilah said, rubbing her round belly. “I’m
huge. I’m already waddling. I can’t imagine what I’ll do when I’m nine months. I
might have to get a wheelchair and have Heath push me around the resort.”

“He’d do it in a heartbeat,” Lora said wryly. “You’ve ignited
baby fever in that man. Do you know how many times he’s asked if I’m ready to
have kids?”

“What do you tell him?” Lilah asked, curious.

“I tell him not now. Not until I know Larimar is on firmer
footing. I mean, we’ve been very lucky with our bookings but that’s not stable.
We need something bigger, more reliable.”

“We’re in the tourist business. I don’t think anything will
ever be stable. Maybe this is as good as it gets.”

“Don’t say that. I might cry.”

“It’ll be okay. We’re already doing better than we ever were
before. Steady bookings, corporate retreats and internet commerce from the new
site Heath had built... I’d say we’re doing much better than we dreamed.”

“We even have a little saved,” Lora admitted. “I guess I’m just
paranoid. One crisis and we’d be wiped out again.”

“Don’t think like that. Think positive.”

Lora smiled. “Look at you all Miss Bright and Sunshiney today.
No more morning sickness?”

Lilah laughed. “Not since the fourth month. I’m good, actually.
Aside from my feet swelling at night. And the constant craving for watermelon at
odd hours of the night. And the night sweats from the hormonal surges. Oh, and
the weird hairs that sprang up out of nowhere on my stomach...yeah, I’m
great.”