Mr. Unforgettable by Karina Bliss Page B

Security.
    â€œHow about yours?”
    For a moment he forgot what they were talking about, then he grimaced. “Completely out of hand…turtledoves, pink champagne, balloons in the shape of hearts and Amanda so stressed she slapped my hand away whenever I touched her.”
    Her dark eyes danced. “Better luck next time.”
    â€œThere won’t be a next time.”
    â€œYou sound sure.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t have the gene for emotional intimacy. Amanda left me for someone who did.”
    Liz said nothing, simply brushed her knuckles against his cheek.
    Abruptly, Luke caught her hand. “I don’t accept pity, either.”
    â€œActually I was trying to return the empathy you showed me the other night,” she said mildly, and tapped their joined hands against his cheek, harder this time. “Much tougher to be the recipient, isn’t it?”
    Understanding passed between them, unexpected and surprising. Ruefully, he released her hand. “Much tougher…sorry.”
    Then because he needed to remind himself why kissing her wasn’t a good idea, he gestured to John Jason and Dillon, who were tearing back across the field with his medals. “You’re great with kids. I’m surprised you and Harry never had any.”
    â€œLuke!” Jordan shouted from the garden. Raising a hand in acknowledgment, he lingered, curious to hear Liz’s reply.
    She smoothed out her dress. “He didn’t want more children.”
    â€œWhat about you?”
    Liz clasped one wrist. “I made my decision when I married him.”
    He needed to know where she stood on relationships, so Luke pushed. “It’s not too late, you’re only thirty-five.”
    But she was shaking her head before he’d finished. “I won’t get married again.”
    Before Luke could ask further questions, the boys arrived, panting like overheated puppies, and a shrill whistle recalled him to his duties.
    â€œLater,” he said, and it was a promise.
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    L UKE HADN’T EXPECTED to enjoy this wedding.
    He’d already tried to resurrect the old Luke on the stag night, but alcohol had only exacerbated his sense of alienation. Whatever happened to the workaholic wunderkind, too damn busy being successful to think about nebulous bullshit like the meaning of life?
    But tonight he was having fun. On the dance floor he sent Liz into a spin and admired her legs as the green dress swirled. Her arms, lightly tanned, gleamed under the lights.
    He was finding it difficult to equate the collected, controlled mayor with the woman before him, all flying hair, flushed cheeks and smart mouth, and with a way of moving that in any other woman Luke would have considered foreplay.
    For all her political astuteness, he’d sensed a sexual naïveté in Liz.
    If she wasn’t naive she wouldn’t be teasing him with affectionate touches and flirtatious remarks. If she wasn’t naive she wouldn’t assume that because he was her friend she was safe.
    Her expectation that he’d behave himself amused him as much as her mistaken belief that he was no longer attracted to her because he’d stopped flirting with her this week.
    He hadn’t backed off because he wasn’t interested; he’d backed off because he was too interested. Elizabeth Light was a complex woman, and his life didn’t need any more complications. But she’d removed the biggest hurdle earlier this afternoon when she’d told him remarriage wasn’t on her agenda.
    The dance ended, and Liz fell against him breathless and laughing—a warmhearted infectious sound that caused dancers nearby to smile.
    He caught her against him, enjoying her exhilaration. “Fred, those Irish dancing lessons have really paid off. You’re not standing on my feet anymore.”
    â€œBecause you don’t move them, they’re easy to avoid. But I need a