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He hadn’t counted on a Liz Townsend coming into his life.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said softly.

“I shouldn’t have,” Adam answered honestly, slipping his arm around her waist as they walked into her living room. “I’ve been
at it for eighteen hours, and I have to be up at six.” After setting down his briefcase, he popped it open and withdrew a
cellophane-wrapped package, which he handed to her.

She melted. “Raspberries. My favorites. They’re almost impossible to find in October.”

He’d stopped in to see his mother just as Sam’s greengrocer
truck had arrived. “I have connections.” He removed his jacket, tossed it aside, and sat down.

Liz set aside the raspberries and knelt on the couch alongside him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and began kneading
the tense muscles. She never knew what to say when he came to her like this, which he did frequently. Should she tell him
to leave for his sake or to stay for hers? “How did your meeting go?”

“All right, I think. Might have won over a few.”

“You did, I know.”

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward, letting her magic fingers work on his tense muscles. “How can you sound
so certain?”

“Because I believe in you, in what you’re trying to do, in what you
will
do.”

“I hope I never disappoint you.”

She leaned in to kiss his neck. “You never could. Would you like a drink?”

Adam shook his head. “It’d put me right out.” He leaned back, relaxing, looking around. He liked her apartment, which was
a good thing, since he’d spent more time here this past summer than in his own. It was small but not confining, with her feminine
touches everywhere: the colorful pillows tossed on the muted print couch, fresh flowers in several vases, framed art ranging
from a vivid poppy to a serene seascape. And sculpted pieces in all shapes and sizes on every table, atop her desk, and on
the bookcase shelves. All were her own work, showing a progression of growth as an artist that surprised and pleased him.

He glanced over at her worktable in the far corner near the window. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the form taking shape.
“You’re working on a new piece?”

Her fingers moved up into his neck and dug deep. “Yes. Recognize my subject?”

“I believe so.” He didn’t know if he was flattered or worried that she was doing a bust of him. He knew it wouldn’t
be an unemotional piece copied from a picture. From what he’d seen of her work, she tended to reach for the soul and put it
in each piece. He wasn’t sure he wanted her looking that deeply inside him.

“It’s not going well,” she confessed. “Something’s missing. I can’t get it quite right.”

He shifted, easing her around until she lay across his lap. “Why make a bust when you have the real thing right here?”

It was the eyes, she thought. Adam’s eyes were deceptively innocent. You had to look long and hard to see the rock-hard determination.
She wanted to give a hint of that, but to temper it with the tenderness she knew was also a big part of him. She would keep
at it until she got it right.

Liz smiled up at him. “And I love having the real thing right here.” As she’d hoped, he kissed her, long and thoroughly. “Are
you hungry? I could scramble some eggs.”

He could smell bath powder on her and the moisturizer she’d put on her face, the scent of her already achingly familiar. He
brushed back her hair, then framed her face with his hands. “I am hungry. Not for food. For you. Let’s go to bed.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just sleep? I can hold you and—”

“The day I want to go to bed with you and just sleep, they might as well start carving my tombstone.”

She smiled. “You flatter me.”

But Adam was serious. “You excite me when I’m with you. Even when I’m not and I just think of you.” He gave an annoyed shake
of his head. “I didn’t plan on this happening, Liz.”

He didn’t say the rest, that he was unhappy about it, but he might as well have. She heard it loud and clear. She knew he
had trouble staying away from her, that he was angry that he wanted her.

He’d been pursuing her for months, but quietly, discreetly. He’d bring a bag of Chinese food to her apartment after a meeting
or intercept her leaving his campaign headquarters
and drive her to a pizza joint off the beaten path, where they’d indulge in a huge double cheese and mushrooms. Or they’d
walk on the beach arm in arm. And they’d talk for hours on end. But they never attended public functions together. She wasn’t
quite certain if that was by accident or design.

She
was
certain she didn’t like it. Neither of them was married or seriously involved with someone else. So why couldn’t they date
publicly and be seen together? Why was Adam keeping her under wraps, as if he were ashamed of her? She doubted that he was.
She felt instead that it had more to do with Adam fighting his attraction, still hoping that he’d get over her, like a bad
head cold.

Meanwhile Liz knew she’d fallen in love—hopelessly, blindly, passionately in love. She also knew she dared not let him know.

“I didn’t plan this, either, Adam. You came after me, remember?”

“I remember. You’re like an addiction with me, like a disease I can’t fight.”

She shifted from him, frowning. “I think I just stopped being flattered.”

He pulled her back to him, took her mouth in a bruising kiss fueled by his frustration. He was no better than his father,
Adam admitted to himself. He’d fallen so hard for a woman that she was clouding his vision, interfering with his plans. He’d
have to do something about that.

Tomorrow. Tonight he needed her desperately. He rose, picked her up, and carried her into her bedroom.

Liz closed her eyes on a wave of pain. She had become increasingly aware that Adam was trying to pull away from her, that
he was feeling trapped by his emotions. Little did he know that she would let him go without a struggle. She loved him, but
she didn’t want a man torn between his ambition and her. She wanted a whole man.

Elections were in another month. She had a feeling he
would think of a way to ease out of their relationship by then. She would do nothing to stop him. Until then she’d take it
one day at a time. There would be plenty of time to mourn later. For tonight she had him here, to love and to cherish.

As he set her on her feet next to her bed and bent to kiss her, Adam didn’t notice the lone tear that trailed down her cheek.

Diane Cramer narrowed her eyes and scanned the television monitor above the stage in the Del Coronado ballroom. She needed
glasses but was too vain to wear them. Perhaps she’d try contacts, if she could scrape up the cash. After she paid off the
little Dior suit she hadn’t been able to resist at the resale shop. The owner claimed it had been worn only once.

The numbers shifted, and she saw that Adam was maintaining a healthy lead over his opponent. The crowd, consisting of volunteers
and aides and supporters gathered for the November election returns, cheered and applauded. Diane swung her gaze to where
Adam was conferring with Fitz and the party chairman in the corner, seemingly unaware of the chaos surrounding them.

God, but Adam looked good, Diane thought. And he was good. Too damn good for politics, probably. What he needed was a woman
by his side, to protect him, to guide him. And she was that woman. If only the fool would recognize that fact.

Diane had been born on the wrong side of the tracks in a small backwater town in Mississippi. Despite an alcoholic father
and a mother who consistently forgave his frequent beatings, both she and her brother, Harlan, had worked their way through
college. After graduation Diane had turned her back on Mississippi and rid herself of her poor beginnings with greater success
than she had had erasing her southern accent, something she was still working on.

Slowly but surely she’d insinuated herself more and more into the campaign, making herself almost indispensable to Fitz. Diane
was smart enough to know that the way to Adam was through his brother. The other volunteers were running out of steam. She’d
just caught her second wind. She was at the office early and stayed late, learning, watching; no job was too large or too
small for her to tackle. She loved the political atmosphere, the hint of power, the excitement of being close to a winner.

And Adam was a winner. If only he would let go of his teenage crush.

Diane dug into her purse, found an Eve cigarette, pressed it into her gold holder, and lit up. She looked across the room
to where Molly and Liz sat talking. Ever observant, she knew that Liz and Adam had been seeing one another, though they’d
been careful to hide that fact from the others. She’d been around the block once too often to miss the telltale signs that
indicated a man and a woman had been intimate. She’d seen Fitz’s speculative glances at the two of them, so perhaps he, too,
had guessed. And it was likely that Liz had confided in Molly since the two of them were thicker than thieves. But no one
else had noticed, she was sure.

Why were they hiding their relationship? Her best educated guess was that Adam wasn’t anywhere near ready to get serious.
And a ditzbrain could tell that Prissy Miss Townsend was the forever type.

Inhaling deeply, she reflected on their affair. It wouldn’t last, she knew. Soft and spoiled, Liz didn’t have the guts to
be a rising politician’s wife. An affair was one thing, but a man going places needed a wife who’d help him up the ladder:
a woman who knew how to play the game, how to sweet-talk her way around any situation, how and when to bend the rules a bit.
She was that woman, and soon Adam would realize it.

When Diane set her sights on something important, she could be very patient. Uncle Howard used to say she was
like a hound dog with a meaty bone, hanging on for dear life. Let Adam have his fling. Let Liz have the scraps of his attention
now. Soon
she
would have the whole enchilada, Diane thought. She couldn’t resist flashing a smug smile in Liz’s direction.

“Why is that bitch sending us a shit-eatin’ grin?” Molly asked Liz, frowning at Diane.

Liz glanced around first to see if anyone else was near enough to overhear her friend’s earthy remark, then turned toward
Diane. But the blonde was walking over to Adam and Fitz. “I have no idea,” she said in answer to Molly’s question. From the
beginning Liz had had little to do with Diane, sensing the other woman’s unexplained dislike. Liz had thought it best to avoid
her since they didn’t seem to have much in common other than this campaign.

“I don’t trust her,” Molly added, watching Diane lean close to Fitz and whisper in his ear. “Fitz looks nice today, don’t
you think?”

“He always does when he takes off that dumb hat and puts on a suit.”

“I like the man, but I feel a little sorry for him. He’s so much in Adam’s shadow.”

Liz crossed her legs. “He shouldn’t be. Adam told me Fitz has a genius IQ, that he practically aced the bar exam, and that
he walked away from a law firm that was offering him tons of money in order to run Adam’s campaign.”

“Sibling loyalty, I guess.”

“I finally got it out of Adam why Fitz is so devoted. There was a river near their house when they were growing up. They weren’t
allowed to swim in it because of the fast current. When Fitz was twelve, he disobeyed and went anyhow. He would have drowned
if Adam hadn’t found him and saved his life.”

“That would win my loyalty.” Molly shifted on her seat so she could see Liz’s face. “How are things between you and the man
of the hour?”

Liz
lifted a shoulder. “Same old, same old. No better, no worse.” She watched Fitz take the microphone and introduce their mother
to the restless crowd. Mrs. McKenzie began talking of how even as a boy Adam had always wanted to help others. As usual, when
someone was praising him, Adam looked uncomfortable. She saw him search her out, then wink, and she gave him a smile.

“Looks like a man smitten to me,” Molly commented, following Liz’s gaze.

Smitten, perhaps, but the words of love she’d longed to hear over the long, hot summer had never come. There were times, after
the loving, when he’d pulled her close and looked deeply into her eyes for long seconds, seemingly wanting to say more. But
always, something stopped him.

“He’s waiting to make sure he wins the election before he commits,” Molly suggested.

Liz watched the party chairman hang up the phone and rush over to clap Adam on the back. “I don’t think so, Molly. Adam has
his life mapped out, and this win is just the first step in a long list of things he wants to accomplish. A serious commitment
right now would slow him down.” She said the words, not sure she believed them. A wife should be an asset to a politician
on the rise.

“But honey, voters feel more secure with a married candidate. Surely Adam knows that.”

Liz knew it, and she was certain Adam did, too. Still, something kept him from committing to her. If only she knew what it
was.

Just then a huge cheer went up from the crowd as the numbers changed again and the television anchorman projected Adam McKenzie
as the winner in the race for California’s attorney general. Flashbulbs began to pop from all over the room, and cameramen
who’d been lingering on the sidelines moved in on Adam. Several microphones were thrust in front of him as reporters tried
to capture his reaction.

Liz watched the scene, feeling strangely detached. She
hadn’t been with Adam for several days, since he’d been heavily involved in the countdown frenzy before election. He’d called
this morning and they’d talked briefly, though he’d seemed distracted. He’d mentioned that if all went well, perhaps they
could get together for a victory celebration after the results were in.

Now, as she watched him being pulled this way and that by a variety of people demanding his attention, she thought a private
party of their own unlikely. He belonged to the voters tonight, and to the volunteers and aides who’d helped get him elected.
Beside her, Molly had risen and was craning her neck to see what was happening up front at the podium. Liz rose and touched
her arm to get her attention above the noise. “Molly, I have a headache. I’m leaving.”