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Liz’s eyes moved to Adam. She knew he was proud of his victory in the Lorenzo case, although he’d modestly neglected to mention
getting the bill passed that evening in his apartment two weeks ago. “Maybe Fitz asked Sam to speak without checking with
Adam.” However, she thought that unlikely since the two brothers seemed to work very well together.

Adam had dropped in at campaign headquarters a couple of times since that evening, and she’d noticed that he and Fitz seemed
to mesh like two halves of a whole. Adam had stopped to talk with Liz casually, as he had with the other volunteers. She hadn’t
avoided him, but she hadn’t lingered in his presence, either. Instead she’d concentrated on Richard Fairchild, going out with
him the past two weekends, needing to keep herself busy; although she had no real reason to believe, based on a couple of
hours together, that Adam
McKenzie had the slightest interest in her beyond that almost kiss.

Richard was another story. At thirty-five he was fourteen years older than she, a successful attorney who’d started out in
her father’s firm and gone on to build his own growing practice. He was a safe person to be with, one who didn’t set her to
churning inside, who didn’t have her longing for things she could probably never have, as Adam McKenzie did.

She’d discovered in her conversations with Adam that evening that he was fiercely goal-oriented, determined to get places
quickly, to make a difference in the world. A woman who cared for an ambitious man like that would always live on the fringes
as he bulldozed his way through life. Her own mother had watched her father achieve his aspirations from the sidelines much
of the time. So even if Adam were to show further interest, Liz didn’t want to play that kind of role and let herself in for
a great deal of loneliness and heartbreak.

The crowd resumed their seats as Fitz waited for the murmuring to die down before he stepped up to the mike. “Ladies and gentlemen,
it’s my privilege to introduce to you a man who really needs no introduction, the man we’ve gathered together tonight to honor,
the man who will be California’s next attorney general… Adam McKenzie.”

The applause began again, spirited and lengthy. Liz watched Adam walk to the podium, saw him acknowledge the cheering crowd,
all boyish charm and California charisma. Some men looked awkward and ill at ease in a tuxedo; others looked like pudgy penguins.
Adam had obviously been born to wear one. She’d never heard him speak in person, just on tape, and was looking forward to
his talk.

The dinner had been lavish, with several courses and a variety of wines. At five hundred dollars a plate, haute cuisine was
expected. There had been three other speakers before Sam Lorenzo. It was getting late, yet as Liz glanced over at
the next table where her parents were seated with Richard and several other friends, she noticed that most everyone was leaning
forward, apparently eager to hear Adam.

After a few moments she decided Adam was what one of her professors used to call “a sneaky speaker.” He started off slowly,
his voice not very loud, causing his audience to listen harder. He spoke of his boyhood, of his adolescence and growing up
without a father, then introduced his mother, who stood to acknowledge the applause somewhat shyly. He talked of his college
days when he and Fitz both were scholarship students.

His voice deepened, grew in depth and resonance, as he discussed the kind of law he preferred to practice, where men like
Sam could get a fair shake, where the little people could expect justice regardless of their income. Her eyes never leaving
his face, Liz decided what Adam McKenzie had was more than charisma: it was vision. He envisioned a better, fairer world and
was willing to get out there and fight for it. Not for himself, but for others.

And that message came across to everyone in the room.

To her surprise, Liz felt tears sting her eyes. A politician so rare. Could he be believed?

At the podium, Adam finished as quietly as he’d begun. “I want to thank each and every one of you for your support. And I
ask you tonight to join with me. I believe that together, we can make our little corner of the world a better place.” He nodded
his head in thanks and took a sip of water. As always when he gave a speech, his mouth was dry and his hands were damp.

He looked out on the crowd, rising to their feet and conveying their approval enthusiastically. He smiled in the direction
of his mother, then scanned the faces, looking for someone in particular. When his eyes met Liz’s, he felt a shifting inside.

It seemed odd to watch her applauding him. He hadn’t seen her dressed up before. The slim black dress made her
appear older, while the cool, cautious look on her face made her seem distant. Next to the blowsy blonde in the tight pink
dress, Liz was stunning by contrast. She wasn’t smiling, though all the others at her table were. He badly wanted to know
what she was thinking.

Adam was vaguely aware of flash bulbs popping and still he kept his eyes on Liz Townsend, trying to read her. She was beautiful,
but he knew many beautiful women. Most of them he steered clear of, except on a superficial level. He couldn’t help but remember
that his father’s obsession with a beautiful woman had changed all their lives. Adam wasn’t about to let that happen to him.

Yet there was something about Liz Townsend. He should probably turn from her, forget her. A few hours alone in her company
and he’d known she wasn’t a woman to be taken lightly. And that’s the only way he wanted to play the game—for now.

A tall, slim older man with a mustache approached Liz, and Adam watched her tear her eyes from his, then turn to hug Joseph
Townsend. Her mother, an attractive blond woman, elegant in navy blue, followed, and Liz embraced her as well. He should go
down and greet her parents, he decided. After all, the Townsends were large contributors to his campaign.

“Adam, Sean Nichols would like a word with you,” Fitz said, coming alongside. He edged the rotund newspaper reporter closer.

Putting on a smile, Adam turned to shake Sean’s hand and exchange a few words. Others who’d been on the dais stepped over
to congratulate him on a fine speech, so that it took Adam another ten minutes to extricate himself. Finally he clapped his
brother on the shoulder. “Would you handle things for me here, Fitz? I have something I have to take care of.”

As usual, Fitz nodded, and Adam headed to where the
Townsends were still chatting. When he was almost there, the blonde in the pink dress intercepted him.

“Mr. McKenzie,” Diane Cramer cooed, “I just loved your speech. You surely had us all mesmerized.”

Distracted, he glanced at her. “Thank you.” Up close, he realized he’d met her at his campaign office, but her name escaped
him. He recognized a heavy dose of Shalimar and stepped back. He’d always disliked that scent.

“You look worn out, sugar,” she went on, her polished nails skimming along the sleeve of his dinner jacket. “Maybe you’d like
to slip away from all this noise. I know a nice quiet place nearby where—”

“Some other time, maybe.” Politicians were always polite to their aides and constituents, Fitz told him over and over. He
didn’t mean to be rude, but the people he wanted to meet were preparing to leave. He gave her a quick smile. “Thanks for the
invitation. Excuse me, please,” he told the blonde, then hurried toward Liz.

Joseph Townsend saw him approach, and his tan face broke into a smile. “Adam,” he greeted, reaching out a hand. “You had them
in the palm of your hand tonight.”

“Thank you, sir.” Adam liked and admired Joseph and knew him to be a damn fine attorney. After shaking hands, he turned toward
Liz, who was on his right.

Taking her cue, she introduced him to her mother, then drew in someone else. “Adam, I don’t know if you’ve met Richard Fairchild.”

Again Adam shook hands, recognizing the attorney. “I believe we’ve passed in the courthouse halls. Good to see you, Richard.”

A staunch Democrat, Richard smiled at the candidate. For some time Joseph had been talking up Adam. Richard decided that McKenzie
would be a good man to get to know. “Glad to finally meet you. I was very impressed with the speeches tonight.”

The talk drifted to the campaign and then to Adam’s
platform. He answered the questions politely, curbing his impatience, waiting for that momentary lull in the conversation.
Finally it came. “I wonder if you’d excuse us,” he asked, his apologetic smile taking in all three of them as he touched Liz’s
elbow. “I need to discuss something with my aide.”

“Certainly,” Joseph answered immediately, then leaned to kiss his daughter’s cheek. “Be careful,” he murmured.

“More business yet tonight?” Katherine Townsend asked, raising a brow.

Adam noticed that Richard seemed a little put out, but the man was too polite to object. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” He looked down
at Liz. “Do you mind?”

As surprised as the rest of them, she shook her head.

“Great. Good night,” he said to the others, then headed for the double doors. Several people tried to interrupt them, but
Adam quickly shook a hand or gave a nod in passing, then lengthened his strides until Liz was having difficulty keeping up
with him in her high heels. In the sedate lobby, they stepped onto the plush red-and-gold carpet on their way to the front
door.

“What is it?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

He sent her a mysterious smile. “I have a lady I want you to meet.”

The name painted on the speedboat was
Jezebel,
and she was twenty-six feet of fiberglass skimming along the serene dark waters of San Diego Bay under a moon that was mere
inches from being full. Having stripped off his jacket and tie, Adam held the wheel lightly and turned to the woman beside
him. “So, what do you think of her?”

The wind was tossing Liz’s hair about, and she loved it. There was no fog tonight, just the lingering heat of the day. She
smiled up at him. “She’s a beauty.”

He’d escorted her to his red Datsun 280-Z and refused to disclose their destination until they’d reached the Mission
Bay Yacht Club, where he kept his boat moored. Moving with the ease of a man who loved the sea, he quickly had them under
way. Liz slipped off her shoes and leaned on the teakwood railing.

Adam let up on the throttle as they approached the curve nearing La Jolla. They were just far enough out that they could see
the lights and make out some buildings in the distance yet not hear the city noises. He cut the engine and let the boat settle,
then drift on the calm sea. Joining Liz at the railing, he slipped his arm around her waist. “I love the quiet out here.”

“Mmm, I can see why.” She inhaled the clean scent of the sea. “This could get addictive.” The gentle swaying was soothing,
like being on a favorite rocking chair.

“I would imagine your father has a boat.” Joseph Townsend struck Adam as a sportsman, a man who took risks and lived life
fully. He’d also overheard her father’s whispered words to Liz and wondered why Joseph had thought the warning necessary.

“He does. A sailboat. My mother gets violently seasick, so she never goes out. I used to sail with him a lot before college.
But sailing’s a lot of work. There’s always a line to tie or a sail to tend. This is far more relaxing, I think.”

He drew her back to the couch along the rear. “I’ve got some soft drinks in the refrigerator in the galley.” But he didn’t
stock either wine or booze, well aware he couldn’t afford to drink and drive.

“I’m not thirsty, but thanks.” Shaking out her hair, she leaned her head back to look at the stars.

“See that house just past the rocky point?” Adam asked as he pointed toward shore. “The one with the lighted walk leading
from the veranda to the sandy beach? A man named Reid owns it. I used to caddy for him summers when I was working at the golf
club during my high school days. His wife had died, and he was lonely. He’d invite me over occasionally for lunch. The house
is wonderful, with solid oak
floors and this great winding staircase. I don’t know why, but I fell in love with that old place, and I’ve wanted to own
one just like it ever since.”

She studied his profile in the moonlight, not mentioning that her parents’ home was perhaps a half a mile from the Reid house,
that she’d grown up in the area. Adam had had to struggle in his youth, she knew. Yet now he drove an expensive sports car,
had a snazzy boat, and lived in a pricey apartment. “You probably will. You seem to be the kind of person who usually gets
what he wants.”

He turned to face her. “Do you think I’ll win the election?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “Just like that? Unconditional faith?”

“Not exactly. I’ve studied your opponent, and he’s not nearly as dedicated as you are. Nor as honest.”

“Politics is a tough game. My father had talked about running for office one day. He was a brilliant attorney with a bright
future. He could have gone far, if only…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

“I understand he died when you were young.”

The memory slammed into him, painful as always. He averted his head so she wouldn’t notice. “Yes, he did.”

It wasn’t something he talked about ever, or thought about often. His father, the dazzling lawyer with the golden future,
who’d fallen so hard for a beautiful woman that he’d abandoned his family and turned his back on his career, finally taking
his own life. Adam wondered if he would ever get past the pain and learn to accept what had happened that long-ago summer
night.

When he had himself under control again, he turned to her with a change of subject. “How well do you know Richard Fairchild?”

“I’ve known him for years. He’s a friend of the family.”

“I could be wrong, but I got the impression he’d like to be more than friends with you.”

He saw things many people missed, with those sharp, assessing eyes. She saw no reason to be evasive. “No, you’re not wrong.”
Lately Richard had hinted of his growing interest, but she hadn’t encouraged him.

“And how do you feel about him?”