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?
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
