The Last White Knight (2 page)

“I’m always interested when people are unjustly denied basic human rights such as housing,” he said, his voice a husky baritone that somehow made him
seem more like one of the people than a polished public speaker who was groomed and trained for the job.

“Then you’re taking a stand against Citizens for Family Neighborhoods?”

Another smile. This one was soft, with just the perfect touch of hurt feelings. “No one is more in favor of family neighborhoods than I am.”

Nice bit of fence-straddling there, Lynn thought.

“But I feel that in today’s world, with one out of two marriages ending in divorce, we need to broaden our idea of what a family is. We need to look at our communities and neighborhoods as families, families that welcome new members instead of shutting them out because of prejudices.”

Even Elliot Graham seemed impressed by Gunther’s eloquence. Graham’s righteous bluster deflated like a stuck balloon. He seemed to shrink a little. Gunther had stolen his thunder and his moment on the news. He tucked his petition away in its folder and handed it back to his son. Graham Junior flashed Lynn a petulant look as if it were her fault Gunther had come to take up the gauntlet.

Lynn dismissed the boy as she scanned the crowd. The level of tension that had been building to a head as she had faced off with Graham had been cut by more than half. Whether it was the senator’s words
or his stunning physical presence that had done the trick, she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. He had effectively done what she, with her many credits in psychology and counseling, had failed to do.

As her migraine took a firmer hold behind her eye, Lynn felt a stab of resentment toward Gunther. This was
her
fight. She should have been the one making the touching statements. Instead, she’d been upstaged by a golden boy and her own temper. It was the story of her life.

Gunther stepped toward her, lifted the box of kitchen utensils out of her hands, and tucked it under one arm like a football. The spotlight hit Lynn in the face again and she flinched away from it, leaning into the senator as if she were seeking shelter and solace in the bulwark of his strength and humanitarianism. He gave her a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

“We need to care about the youth of our nation,” he said. “We need to reach out to those in trouble, not push them away. This young lady here needs our support.”

Lynn’s head snapped up.
Young lady?
He thought she was one of the residents! Her jaw dropped and another burst of irrational anger surged through her. He thought she was a teenager! She had been blithely discounting his prospects as a significant
other while he had been looking at her and thinking she needed parental guidance!

He ended his statement with a promise to do all he could to help Horizon House. The press people thanked him and dashed off to get their stories ready in time to make deadline. The crowd of neighbors began to disperse, many heading for their homes as the streetlights began to blink on and others mingling on the lawn, chatting as the mood eased.

Erik took a deep breath and sighed, rolling his big shoulders as he took a step back from the little raven-haired beauty who was still staring up at him with a slack jaw. Teenage girls. Brother! He wouldn’t have gone back to puberty for all the Twinkies in Minnesota.

He handed her her box back and flicked his thumb over a smudge of dirt on her cheek. “I know you meant well, sweetheart, but you really ought to leave Mr. Graham to the directors of the house.”

She made a little strangled sound in her throat and went on staring at him, one hand clutching the box to her, the other rubbing furiously at a spot above her right eye. She was a cute little thing—maybe five-six with a wealth of black hair, bangs hanging in trendy disarray above jewel-green eyes and an impudent little nose. She choked and sputtered at him, and Erik took a cautious step toward her, concern
seeping in around the edges of his appreciation for her looks.

His brows pulled together and he reached a hand toward her. “Are you all right?” Maybe she was going into a seizure or something, he thought, his heart leaping to somewhere in the vicinity of his Adam’s apple. Great. The girl was having an attack just looking at him. Wonderful. He hadn’t felt this special since Phoebe Heinrichs had screamed out her love for him at the National Honor Society banquet in 1976.

“Teenagers …” he said in a low growl as he glanced around frantically for someone who looked like a supervisor.

Two gray-haired ladies came rushing toward them from the house. A wide one wearing a Vikings jersey and sporting a face like a bulldog led the way like a blocking back, elbowing people out of their path. She was followed by a tall, slender woman who wore the unmistakable aura of a Mayo Clinic doctor’s wife. Erik had met scores of them at the innumerable charity luncheons women and politicians attended in Rochester. Had he been a betting man, he would have put a fiver on her being the one who had started rattling cages in the state capital.

“Ladies.” He flashed them a weak smile as he took the girl by the arm and started to usher her into
their care. He’d done his duty for the night, publicly taking up the fight for Horizon House and getting himself a prime spot on the ten o’clock news. All he wanted now was a clean getaway, a steak, and a cold beer.

The girl jerked her arm free of his grasp, upending her box of kitchen paraphernalia. Spatulas clattered on the sidewalk. A collection of measuring cups bounced and rolled away into the grass. Erik turned and stared at her, truly horrified, waiting for her head to spin around on her shoulders.

“I am
not
a teenager,” she said through tightly gritted teeth. “I am
not
a resident of Horizon House. I am the
counselor
of Horizon House.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. Even in the waning light of dusk, Lynn could see the rise of color across his perfect cheekbones.

“Oh … boy …” he said on a long, pained sigh.

He raised his hands as if surrendering to a thief and gave her a little smile full of contrition and charm. Lynn steeled herself against its full effect, yet still felt a part of her soften toward him. It only made her angrier. No one had a right to that much charisma.

“I’m sorry.” He gave a shrug, looking bewildered as he took in her outfit of jeans and tattered old Notre Dame T-shirt. “I guess you don’t exactly look like my idea of a counselor.”

Lynn drew herself up to her full height and gave him the best Ice Princess look she could muster, considering her state of dishabille. “Well, we’re even, then,” she said, casting a scathing glance from the white polo shirt that spanned his broad shoulders to the pale khaki chinos that hugged his slender waist, then to the Top-Siders on his feet. “You don’t exactly look like my idea of a state senator, either.”

Erik couldn’t help but grin. She was feisty; he had to give her that. Considering the tenuous position of Horizon House, he’d expected her to beg for his help. He was in a position of power, and the people who flocked around him tended to be obsequious as a rule. It was a rule he had never liked. His job was to serve the people, not the other way around. But he got the distinct impression this lady didn’t kowtow to anybody.

“You’ve got me there,” he said. “I came straight from the golf course.”

Lynn’s mouth bowed into a saccharine smile. “You’ve had a good day, then, Senator? A few rounds on the links, drinks in the clubhouse, cap it off with a little publicity. How nice for you.”

“Lynn, heel,” Martha Steinbeck commanded with a warning glare. She jammed her hands where her waist would have been had she not been as wide as she was tall. Martha was sixty-five and formidable
looking, with shocking red lipstick and hair the color of steel wool. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Senator Gunther,” she said dryly. “She had a traumatic experience with a politician as a child. It warped her.”

“What happened?” he asked. His eyes, sparkling with amusement, locked on Lynn’s. “She bit his hand and tasted blood?”

Lynn fought a grin without success. She didn’t want to like Erik Gunther, but he was charming her just the same. Most men in his position would have been affronted by her lack of humility. Not this one. There was an unmistakable light of challenge in his eyes behind all that good humor. He was daring her to not like him, telling her he would win her over whether she wanted him to or not. “No,” she said. “I bit his hand and tasted … something else.”

Erik laughed. “I’ve been in politics long enough to know it’s entirely possible. I’m a bona fide Type A, myself.”

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

He tipped his head. “Touché, counselor. I’d hate to go up against you in a debate. If you could keep that temper in check, you’d probably rip me to shreds.”

“I’m sorry, Senator. These days I’m afraid my temper is running on a real lean mix. It doesn’t take much to touch it off.” Lynn held her hand out to him
in greeting and apology. “Lynn Shaw, twenty-nine, BA from the University of Minnesota. Care to check my driver’s license?”

“I thought you’d say Notre Dame,” he said, nodding toward the peeling gold letters on the front of her T-shirt.

“Souvenir from a past life.”

Erik didn’t pursue it. It seemed a harmless topic to him, but he’d seen the shutters come down on those emerald-green eyes. He had somehow managed to step over a boundary line. Intriguing lady, Miss Lynn Shaw, he thought, noting the absence of rings on her left hand. A counselor with a temper and secrets in her eyes.

He shook her hand the way he would have a colleague’s hand, but he held hers just a moment longer, just to see how she would react. She didn’t like it. He could feel her tension. She wanted to pull away, but she met his gaze and held firm. He added
brave
and
stubborn
to the list of adjectives that described her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Shaw,” he said, releasing her.

“And you, Senator.” Lynn broke eye contact with him, not at all comfortable with what she saw in his gaze. He was trying to read her and having too much success. “These ladies are Horizon House’s founders
and directors,” she said, motioning to her bosses. “Martha Steinbeck and Lillian Johnson.”

“Ladies,” he murmured with a polite nod.

“I’m afraid you’re not catching any of us at our best,” Martha said. “Except Lillian. She always looks that way. Doctor’s-wife syndrome.”

Lillian shot her a look, then turned back to Erik: “On behalf of all of us, Senator Gunther, I want to thank you for coming to our aid.”

“That’s what you elected me for.”

“Not me,” Lynn said with a cheeky grin. “I voted for Milner.”

Erik lifted a brow in sardonic amusement. “Figures.”

He wanted to ask her where Mick Milner was now in her hour of need, but the question was forestalled as Elliot Graham walked up to the group.

“I feel it’s only fair to warn you, Senator,” he said, his face grave, his gaze locked on Erik, as if the Senator were now in charge of Horizon House. Graham’s son stood beside him, arms loaded with leaflets, brows pulled low in an expression that seemed more angry than somber. The kid was maybe sixteen, gangly and on the scrawny side, Lynn noted. He had nicked his chin in two places, shaving duck fuzz. “As chairman of Citizens for Family Neighborhoods,” the elder Graham went on, “I fully intend to proceed with these petitions.”

Erik tucked his hands in his pockets and smiled benignly. “You do whatever you feel is right, Mr. Graham.”

“It’s easy for you to come in here and plead their case, Senator,” Graham pointed out. “This isn’t your neighborhood.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference if it were.”

One corner of Graham’s mouth flicked upward. “Have you met the residents of Horizon House yet, Senator?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Meet them. Then tell me you wouldn’t mind having their kind living across the street from your family.”

Lynn bristled, coming to the defense of her girls like a mother tiger for her cubs. “Just what do you mean, ‘their kind’?”

Graham turned to her, looking down his nose at her with unmistakable disdain. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Miss Shaw.”

She took a step toward him, her gaze locked on his face. She wanted him to say it, to put a name to what he thought of girls who had made mistakes with their lives. She wanted him to say it so she could feel justified in slapping that holier-than-thou look off his face. But it wasn’t Elliot Graham who cooperated. It was his son.

“Sluts.”

The word was barely spoken aloud, just a whisper of sound, but it brought Lynn up short. The venom in it shocked her. Young Graham’s cheeks colored as all eyes turned toward him. His father wheeled on him with a furious look.

“E.J.!” he barked.

The boy gaped at him. “But, Dad—”

“We’re going home,” Graham said in a tight, low voice that boded ill for his son. He grabbed the boy by one arm and steered him roughly toward the sidewalk.

An itchy silence descended on the group as they stood watching the Grahams hustle across the street.

“My God,” Lillian muttered, her voice laced with disgust.

Martha just shook her head.

Erik was more interested in watching Lynn than the Grahams. The boy’s remark had upset her in a way that seemed out of proportion to the situation. The color her temper had brought to her face had washed out, leaving her pale. She covered it admirably by rubbing her forehead as if to shield her eyes, then made an acerbic comment to divert attention from herself.

“I’ll bet he has to do extra pages in his Hitler Youth workbook tonight.”

“Are you all right?”

Her head jerked up and she stared at him as if he’d just asked her how she liked her sex. “I’m fine,” she said too quickly. “I have a little headache. It’s nothing.”

Martha rolled her eyes. “Like being hit with a sledgehammer is nothing.”

“I’m fine,” Lynn repeated in a tone that declared the subject closed.

She’d lived with migraines for twenty years. She knew the routine by now. This one hadn’t decided whether it would stay or not. If she got some medication into her system quickly enough, she would be all right. If she didn’t, she would be violently ill and unable to function for a few hours. Either way, she didn’t much care for Erik Gunther to know about her problem. She didn’t want him getting any closer than an emotional arm’s length away. He was here for his own reasons, and when he left he wouldn’t be taking any part of her with him.