Night Swimming Quotes

“He adopted his standard mocking approach. “Having trouble getting out of the pool, Lily? There’s a ladder on the side for the old ladies who come and do aqua aerobics.”
Everything inside her stilled. That condescending wretch. She felt him come closer, and was careful not to stir an inch, not even a hair.
“You should get out of the pool and take a long hot shower. It’ll make you feel better,” he suggested, not ungently. His brow furrowed with worry.
She ignored the thread of concern in his voice and concentrated on not moving too suddenly. Slowly, as if in unbearable agony, she lifted her head. He was dressed once more in his khakis and shirt, his sneakers were in one hand, his gear bag in the other. Good. She let her face crumble, her expression slip into wretchedness. Her lower lip trembled, a special added effect. “I—I’m not sure I can even make it to the ladder,” she confessed haltingly. “My whole body’s shot.”
Damn, she must be hurting worse than he’d imagined. Trying not to stare at her lush lower lip quivering helplessly, Sean dropped his gear bag and stepped forward. “Here,” he said, leaning over, stretching out his hand. “Grab my hand. I’ll pull you out.”
She’d braced her feet against the wall of the pool, knowing she’d have to strike fast. They grasped hands. The second his tightened about her forearm, she jerked backward with all her strength.
Physics were on her side.
Caught off balance, Sean somersaulted through the air, with only enough time to yell, “Shit!” before he landed with a cannonball-sized splash.
Lily braced her arms on the pool deck. She’d intended to jump out and make a mad dash for the ladies’ locker room but her efforts were hampered by her convulsive laughter.
A surprised “Oof!” flew from her lips. Sean’s arm had snaked out and wrapped around her waist, dumping her backward into the water. She pushed to the surface to find Sean glowering menacingly.
He was sopping wet and just as furious. Lily’s laughter redoubled, then died away when his hands took her by the shoulders and pulled her close. Mere inches separated their bodies.
“What are you doing?” Her voice came out an alarmed squeak. Her eyes flew to his. They sparkled with green and gold lights.
“Payback time, Lily. You’ve pushed me once too often. I had my cell phone in my pocket. I don’t think it’s waterproof. My leather wallet is in my rear pocket, crammed with pictures of my adorable niece and nephew. Basically, Banyon, you owe me. Big time.” His tanned face, with drops of water still clinging to its chiseled planes, descended.
He was going to kiss her, she realized, panic-stricken at the thought. “Don’t, Sean, don’t!”
“I think I have to. It’s been a long time coming. Oh, by the way, I like lots of tongue.”
Indignant, her mouth opened, ready to skewer him.
But Sean was quicker. He shut Lily up the way he’d been dreaming of for so long. For years she’d driven him mad, made him crazed with desire. Now, by God, he was going to taste her. The passion and frustration inside him erupted. He seized her mouth, molding her lips to his own. Carnal fantasies gave way to a reality a thousand times sweeter. Starved for her, Sean’s lips plundered, boldly claiming her as his.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“You are the most extraordinary woman in the world,” he whispered. “By the way, I accept your proposal of marriage, Dr. Banyon,” he said, capturing her lips again as their bodies began to move as one across the dance floor. “Though I’m somewhat annoyed you beat me to it.” He grinned at her look of surprise. Then, his right hand releasing her waist, Sean pulled out a slender, velvet box from his pocket. Their feet stilled as he opened it for her. Nested inside was a marquis diamond. It flashed, reflecting the lights shining from above. Lily’s hand trembled beneath his as he slipped the ring onto her finger.
“I was working out the kinks in my plan to abduct you,” he told her. “I was going to hold you hostage until you agreed to my every demand.”
“And they are?”
“To love me forever.”
“You are too easy, McDermott,” she teased. “How about we abduct each other? I know this lovely cottage in the Bahamas we can rent for a couple weeks.”
“This sounds very tempting.” His fingers splayed across her lower back, pressing her against him. “We could work on your project—”
“That’s right. And start on another one—one I think you’ll be quite enthusiastic about.” Smiling, she leaned closer to whisper in his ear. Pulling back slightly, she thrilled at the naked hunger stamped on his face. “It seems the grandmothers would like to be ‘great,’ ” she added with a grin.
“Well, then, we’d better get to work right away.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“He looked up, meeting her gaze with a somber expression. “I’m undone. You terrify me, Lily. That you can be this exquisite, all dazzling beauty and a brilliant brain—”
“A brain,” she interrupted in a shaky voice, “which will be fried if you don’t undress and make love to me right now. I mean it, McDermott. Consider this your duty—in the interest of science.”
He sighed, rising to his full height. “No doubt, just one of many sacrifices I’m destined to make, in the interest of science, in the interest of mankind,” Sean said, his shirt already hitting the tile by their feet.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Well, that clears up one thing. And you’re here, Sean, because?” she asked, her tone arch.
Well, Kaye, I’m here because of your daughter. As a matter of fact, I was just about to make love to Lily when you showed up. And goddammit, I’m so hard I might crack, he added mentally along with a string of vicious curses.
If Sean had been slightly less disciplined, he’d have drawn the sheer curtains in May Ellen’s guest room and tossed Lily’s mother out the window. It wouldn’t hurt. This was a ranch; she’d land in the shrubbery. His fingers twitched. They were coated with the haunting essence of Lily. With Kaye gone, he could pull Lily into his arms again and rekindle the lush-scented heat of her desire. He cast a longing glance toward the curtained window. A flicker of movement outside distracted him for a moment. What was that? he wondered.
“Yes, Sean?” Kaye prompted ever so sweetly.
Sean realized he hadn’t gotten around to answering Kaye. “I’m here to give Lily a hand.” He’d be giving her his body if Kaye hadn’t waltzed in. “And I think Lily’s hair looks great this way. Sexy as hell.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Sean winced inwardly. “I don’t think that’s anyone’s business, Hal. Not even yours,” he added defensively. A colossal mistake.
Hal’s temper exploded. “What do you mean, not my business? Okay, McDermott, we’ll skip over the political repercussions for you as mayor if someone other than me caught you and Lily. I guess the phrase conflict of interest doesn’t ring a bell. To tell you the truth, I don’t give a rat’s ass about politics. I’ll go straight to what I do care about: you breaking Lily’s heart.”
“What?!” Sean exclaimed.
“Yeah, I know. You’re gonna tell me that what I interrupted just a few minutes ago was just a casual romp in the pool. That’s a load of crap, McDermott. You know as well as I that Lily’s never been casual about anything in her life. Especially not you. ’Sides, what I witnessed back there was not casual. Shit, I’m surprised the water wasn’t boiling with the heat you two were making.”
“Christ, Hal.” Sean spread his hands, his palms up. “Things kind of exploded between us. But Lily’s not a girl anymore—”
“If you’re stupid enough to believe that, then you don’t understand dick about Lily—no matter how hard you were trying back in my pool!”
Sean opened his mouth, but Hal was in full rant. “I’ve known Lily since she was a lonely, awkward kid. Of all people, you, Sean, should remember what she was like, how it was for her.”
“She ended up fine—”
“Yeah, she did. Because of her brains and her heart, she’s accomplished everything she’s dreamed of. But accomplished as she is, with all that beauty, she’s as lonely, as vulnerable as she was at thirteen. She needs a home, McDermott. She needs to know she belongs. That there’s a place for her to care about above sea level.”
“Hal—”
“I’m warning you, Sean. I’ll have your ass if you go and hurt Lily and make her run away. Now, get out of here before I get really pissed.”
Hal was wrong, and his protective impulse was way overblown. Thoroughly misguided, too, Sean thought, as he slammed the office door behind him. It was he—not Lily—who was in need of protection. Sean had an awful feeling he’d lost his heart back there in the pool, and that when Lily discovered she had it, she’d toss it away.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Monitoring Sean’s progress with the towel, Hal gave a grunt of disgust. “Come on. I have an extra towel you can use in the office. No way you can drive home like that—you’ll ruin the car’s interior. ’Sides, we need to talk,” Hal added heavily. Turning on his heel, he headed back toward his office.
Sean swallowed with a decided lack of enthusiasm. They entered Hal’s cramped cubicle of an office and Hal shut the door behind him. It closed with an ominous bang.
He took a towel hanging from the hook on the door and tossed it at Sean, who grabbed it one-handed.
“Thanks,” he said, as he bent to pat his khakis dry.
“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.” The warning tone in Hal’s voice had Sean pausing to glance up at his friend. He straightened, towel forgotten.
“Hey, I didn’t plan what you saw back there, Hal. It just happened.”
“What’d she do? Pull you into the pool?” Whatever he saw in Sean’s expression had Hal’s face shifting into a lopsided grin. “Thought so. Serves you right, McDermott. You were being a total SOB. You knew it, so did she. Christ, you would never pull that kind of stunt with Dave.” He gave a snort of disgust. “I was watching the two of you the entire workout. Don’t think I didn’t see when you finally took pity on her. Any slower, and you’d have been doing a dog paddle. Real shitty of you, McDermott.”
I know, Sean admitted silently. “Right. If she ever agrees to swim with me again, I’ll let her swim her arms off. She got her revenge anyway.”
“Good for her.”
Sean’s gaze narrowed. Sometimes Hal was a pain in the ass. “Gee, thanks, Coach.”
Unfazed by Sean’s sarcasm, Hal continued, “You know, I always suspected something would happen between you and Lily. Intense rivalry can’t come without intense passion. I figured the attraction was there, just waiting for the right moment.” He paused to glare at Sean, then said, “But I would have hoped you’d have a hell of a lot more smarts than to try to seduce a beautiful woman in my pool! Anybody could have walked in on you!” His voice was at a near shout.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“She didn’t look at me even once, Sean thought, feeling an icy chill of disappointment, far colder than the pool water. Abruptly aware that he was still standing in the pool, fully dressed, looking like an idiot, he hauled himself out.
Hal’s obvious concern had transmuted into narrow-eyed disapproval. Sean pretended not to notice. He was too preoccupied to deal with Hal right now, too busy trying to figure out what might be going on in Lily’s head.
Damn it, why couldn’t things ever be simple between Lily and him?
With a grimace, he emptied his dripping pockets, dumping his wallet and ruined cell phone onto the deck. He grabbed his sodden towel and made a halfhearted attempt to blot his dripping clothes. Thank God his drenched clothing hid the evidence of his arousal. Fierce need still clawed, its talons deep. If Sean hadn’t been damned sure Hal would hurl himself in a flying tackle if he tried it, he would have marched right into the ladies’ locker room and dragged Lily back where she belonged: in his arms. Arms that ached from the loss of her.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Lily’s head fell back with her broken keen filling the air.

“Holy shit!” Hal came running flat out, Lily’s cry still reverberating. He skidded to a halt on the slippery deck, his panicked rescue unfortunately bringing him quite near to where Sean and Lily were fused together. As comprehension dawned, embarrassment colored his face a flaming pink blush.
Instinctively, Sean shoved Lily behind him, shielding her with his body. He could feel her tremble against him. Were her tremors the aftermath of blazing passion, or were they from horrified mortification? he wondered. He wished he could see her face.
“Sorry we gave you a scare, Hal. I, uh, fell into the water. Then somehow, Lily and I got caught up in a water fight to the death. Guess I forgot how ticklish she is.” He coughed. It was a pathetic story, but the best he could do right now.
At his words, Hal looked up from his seemingly rapt examination of the deck’s tiles. Although his face was still as pink as Evelyn Roemer’s dyed hair, his lips parted in a smile of relief. “Oh, yeah,” he nodded, more than willing to play along. “Everyone needs a good tickle now and again.” He cleared his throat and loudly said, “Sorry to break up the fun, but you two have probably had enough water sports for one night.” Hal’s gaze moved past Sean. “You okay there, Lily?”
Behind Sean, Lily froze. What to say? That she’d been nanoseconds away from a soul-shattering orgasm when Hal came barreling poolside.
Bereft of Sean’s intoxicating kisses to drug her senseless, Lily hardly recognized herself. Had she gone mad? Probably. She wondered whether she would ever recover from what was undoubtedly the most intensely erotic experience of her life.
Oh, God! Of all the people to have interrupted her and Sean in the pool! Hal Storey was as close to a father as Lily would ever have. He’d always supported her, believed in her. . .
“Lily?”
“I’m fine, Hal. Just a bit achy.” She cringed, sure Hal would guess that the parts of her that ached and throbbed had nothing to do with swimming.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“While Sean was pulling on his fins, Lily had pretended to be busy herself. She’d made a show of tugging on her goggles, just in case he happened to glance up, and saw her staring like an obsessed ninny. Through the tinted blue of her goggles, she watched him surface.
Oh my god. Her knees went weak, threatened to buckle.
Sean was doing a butterfly kick on his back.
Her eyes traveled down the length of his torso, and stopped, transfixed. She swallowed convulsively. Yet she couldn’t have torn her eyes away from the sight of Sean’s narrow hips if someone had screamed, Fire! Encased in black Lycra, they moved in a suggestive rhythm, breaking the surface of the water, sinking, and then rising again, over and over. Unbearably erotic, an answering beat drummed deep inside Lily. Helplessly, she conjured endless hours of sex, Sean’s body driving into her with the same relentless, unbroken rhythm, each flex of his hips thrusting to her very womb.
“Something wrong, Lily?” Hal’s impatient voice demanded.
Lily nearly leaped out of her skin. She was the only one left on deck besides Hal. “No, nothing,” she said hurriedly, hyperconscious that her voice was reedy thin. “Just about to jump in.”
To clear her mind of the sexual fog that lay thick and heavy, she blinked rapidly—only to mutter a soft curse when she realized what had happened. Yanking her goggles off, she dropped to a kneel and swished them viciously in the water.
“What’s the problem now?” Hal’s patience was obviously wearing thin.
Embarrassed, resentful, and praying Hal wouldn’t guess the real reason why, Lily ground out her explanation. “My glasses fogged.”
“They broken? I’ve got—”
“No, no . . .” she interrupted tersely, and felt immediately guilty. It wasn’t Hal’s fault her goggles had literally fogged from the heat of her aroused body. It was hers. That’s what she got from staring at Sean McDermott’s groin for too long: fogged mind, fogged goggles.
Determined to ignore the sight of Sean moving like a bold lover through the water next to her, that incredible, muscled body within touching distance, Lily gritted her teeth and dove in.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“So, are you going to come to a swim practice, put a smile on Hal’s face?”
Lily shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll make time to visit Hal this week, but I prefer ocean swimming these days.”
Sean looked out at the pouring rain. “In this muck?” His smile turned knowing. “Oh, right. I see.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Why you don’t want to come. It’d be embarrassing to swim with your old coach if you’re no longer . . .” He let the sentence trail off.
“I’m just as fast as I used to be,” she retorted.
“Hey, it’s okay, really,” he said in a soothing tone, one that he knew would infuriate her. He was, after all, blessed with a true talent when it came to pissing off Lily. “Lots of swimmers lose their edge—”
“What time’s practice?” she demanded curtly.
The annoyed glint in her crystalline eyes told Sean all he needed. He had her. “Eight to ten, every night,” he informed her easily. “So, you’ll come?”
Lips pursed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, Lily swept past him, regal as a queen under a drenching rain.
With a grin Sean called after her, “See you later tonight, Lily.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“You’d be surprised how many of them ask me what you’re up to.”
“Why do they ask you about me?”
“Maybe because you’ve become a near celebrity in your field, and have traveled to places and seen things that most of us only dream about.”
“I didn’t mean that.” She brushed the idea of herself as particularly noteworthy aside. “Why do they ask you about me?”
Sean looked at Lily searchingly. She wasn’t fishing, he realized. She didn’t have a bag of flirtatious ploys like Stacy. No, Lily was honestly mystified.
She was so damned gorgeous.
“I supposed it’s because everyone knows how close my mom and yours still are, how our grandmothers practically live at each other’s homes.” Shutting his mouth before he added, And probably because a number of them have guessed that I’ve been crazy about you forever and enjoy tormenting me with unending Lily Banyon questions.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“In the interest of educating the citizens of Coral Beach, I’d like to propose to Mayor McDermott and Mr. Cullen that the town organize a weekend of diving instruction for its residents.”
At Lily’s suggestion, excited murmurs swept through the auditorium.
Dave, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, whispered a rueful, “Damn. I had a hunch Lily would find a way to retaliate after I suggested you could beat her swimming. Looked like she wanted to pitch me off the boat—and we weren’t anywhere near the shore.”
“Now you begin to understand Lily’s no one to mess with,” Sean replied out of the corner of his mouth.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“His erotic daydream came to a screeching halt when Evelyn leaned close and whispered, “There’s a full house today. Your Dr. Banyon’s quite a draw, Sean.”
Your Dr. Banyon. Sean sat back against the velveteen-covered seat, stunned. There it was, voiced aloud, the crux of the problem that tormented him. He wanted Lily. Wanted her to be his.
That was another fantasy he’d indulged in, a thousand times over, free to do so because a fantasy was safe. Acknowledging his desire openly, showing Lily how much he wanted her, how much he cared, was anything but.
In the political arena, Sean suffered no lack of confidence, of courage. But he was damnably afraid when it came to Lily Banyon. Like his desire for her, he could admit this awful vulnerability, but only privately. For all of Sean’s instincts screamed, No! at the thought of revealing them to her.
Because the thing Sean feared most of all was that Lily would toss his confession on the ground, then trample it with her high heels as she walked away from him.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“He wondered if Lily had the slightest inkling of the power she held. Sean wasn’t thinking of how her reef study might influence the town’s decision to vote on the multimillion-dollar development. No, it was the power she wielded over him, one which kept him enthralled, day and night.
And now, as well. From the sudden prickle of awareness, Sean knew she had arrived. As always, her presence made him feel as though a current were racing through him. Drawn by a magnetic attraction, his eyes fixed on Lily, his true north.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Sean checked his watch, grimaced, and lengthened his stride down the hallway. He’d make it to the high school—but only if he skirted around town instead of cutting through. It was 12:40 p.m. and the downtown streets would be clogged with motorists battling for lunch hour parking.
He was halfway down the granite steps when he spotted Dave and Evelyn standing beside his car in the lot reserved for official use. He raised an eyebrow at the twin smiles of angelic innocence on their faces. “What are you two doing, camped out here?”
“That should be obvious,” his secretary replied. “You tipped your hand when you canceled your lunch with Ferrucci and the oh-so-friendly developers. So Dave and I decided we might as well share the ride. No point in taking separate cars when we can carpool.”
He made a show of looking at his watch. “You want a lift to the deli for sandwiches? Fine, hop on in.”
Evelyn made a clucking noise with her tongue. Her pink curls shook slightly. “Sean, we’re your friends. If we’re willing to admit to unholy curiosity, then you should, too.”
Dave merely nodded in agreement, wisely holding his tongue. A good thing, too. These days, Sean’s temper had a real short fuse, wired to explode. He didn’t want to throttle his best friend in the town hall parking lot.
Sean had thought it would be easier not to see Lily, but he’d been wrong. Just knowing she was near had him craving even a glimpse of her. It was a gnawing hunger that nothing could appease . . . except her.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Lily’s blood began to boil. “And it was Sean who volunteered my name to the principal?” How dare he pull this kind of stunt? she fumed silently.
“Why yes.” There was the slightest pause before Evelyn Roemer asked, “Is there a problem, Dr. Banyon?”
“Where is he?” Lily demanded.
“At home, I imagine, though he’ll be here shortly. Should I have him call you—”
“The address, Ms. Roemer, if you please.”
“I don’t think Sean—”
“The address, or I say no right now,” Lily warned. “Your choice.”
“Three sixty-nine Grove,” came the immediate reply.
“A pleasure chatting with you, Ms. Roemer,” Lily said, before hanging up the phone and running to grab a shirt and car keys.

Sean was sitting on the stoop of his bungalow, his cordless phone pressed to his ear, when Lily pulled up with a squeal of tires.
“Yeah, she’s here already, Evelyn,” he said. His eyes were trained on Lily as she slammed her door shut. “Must have driven at her usual leisurely pace. You might want to call Chip Reynolds, tell him to have his traffic cops keep their eyes peeled for a blue Ford Focus; it’s like money in the bank.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“So, Lily, want to play?” he asked. The words ignited a flare of need inside him
Lily’s head turned, her face now tantalizingly near. And the rest of the world melted away. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He thought about what he’d like to do to those lush lips. Head angled, Sean leaned forward . . . and Karen spoke.
Instead of stealing a kiss from Lily, he nearly brained himself against the pilothouse. In the time it took to gather his scrambled wits and hazard a glance at her, she’d gone and tugged the brim of her fishing hat down low, shielding her eyes . . . Ah, shit.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“I’m surprised you’re here.” Her mouth curved upward.
“I warned you I’d be joining you.” He ignored the heat that spread inside him at the sight of her smile.
“That’s just it.” Her smile grew wider. “A politician who keeps his word—what a remarkable aberration in the species.”
“How could I have forgotten that keen wit of yours?” he marveled. “Yeah, I’m full of surprises. Might want to remember that.” Then, throwing caution to the wind, he let his eyes roam slowly over her, lingering. She’d have to be blind not to see the hunger in them.
Which she clearly wasn’t. She retreated a step. He followed, his longer legs closing the distance, until his body almost brushed hers.
That cool composer of Lily’s was unraveling, no matter how hard she struggled to pretend otherwise. The signs were there, in the fine trembling of her limbs, in the flush that stole over her porcelain smooth cheeks. Fierce satisfaction filled Sean at her involuntary reaction.
He dipped his head until his lips hovered, a soft whisper away. “Lily?”
“Yes?” There was a husky catch to her voice.
Sean’s fingers reached up and traced the rosy bloom on her cheek. Was it the sweet flush of desire that made her skin so soft? he wondered, his eyes and fingers memorizing every detail, every sensation. God, he’d die for a taste of her. But Sean denied himself the pleasure. He raised his head, putting distance between himself and his greatest temptation, and forced himself to lower his hand.
At the loss of contact, Lily’s head jerked, as if coming out of a trance.
Sean stepped back before she could flay him alive. “You’re looking a little pink, Lily. I’ve got some zinc oxide in my bag. I’d be happy to put some on you. Especially on those hard to reach places.” He gave her a casual smile and pulled his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his T-shirt, ignoring the violent thudding of his heart against the cotton fabric. His hands shook, too, racked with tremors of need. Somehow, he managed to settle his shades across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, before shoving them deep into his pocket, out of sight.
Damn Sean and his effect on me, Lily swore silently. He had only to bestow the paltriest of caresses and she nearly swooned. Even more galling was the fact that she was equally helpless before Sean’s verbal taunts. The thought of Sean’s hands, slick with lotion, gliding over her body in long, sweeping caresses had her pulse racing.
Lily’s voice was filled with contempt—never mind that it was self-directed—as she spoke. “You know, you and John Granger should get to know each other. You could compare notes on really great pickup lines. By the way, Sean, your nose? Does it trouble you still? I hope so.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“He’d surfaced, spluttering, and swam as best he could in his sodden shirts, jeans, and sneakers over to the ladder.
Banyon was waiting for him. John had a choice, she told him. He could climb up the ladder and cut the crap permanently, leaving her and the other women on the team alone. Or he could stay there. The water might be just cold enough to act as an anesthetic. She would dive in and bring one of the lobster traps to the surface. Since he’d been asking all week, she’d happily handle his you-know-what for him. And stuff it in the lobster trap. It’d be a yummy little appetizer for those big, hungry lobsters.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“He circled the mahogany coffee table to where Lily sat.
He stopped and waited.
Slowly, her blond head tilted upward until her eyes met his. Enormous and wide, they looked like a winter sea, tossed with mystery. For the thousandth time, Sean wished he could ignore his feelings for this beautiful, intelligent, and damnably frustrating woman. That he could forget a lifetime of desire. Tamping down on the need to kiss Lily senseless, he pressed the whiskey into her hand instead.
Frustration came out as a low growl of warning. “Here. Try drinking it a little slower than you drive, or I’ll get a police escort to follow you to the condo.”
Icy sparks flew from her incredible eyes. Sean welcomed them. It helped that he could rile her, gave him the fleeting illusion that he had some defense against this cursed attraction. As an added touch, he laughed, taunting softly, “Careful there, Dr. Banyon, your temper’s showing.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Sean deliberately loitered on the patio with his grandmother and the other septuagenarians before going to the kitchen to pour May Ellen and Lily’s drinks. He wanted to give them a bit of privacy. As for me, Sean thought—drawing deep drafts of the scented, heavy Florida night air into his lungs--I need to pull myself together.
Because it was happening already: the Lily Effect was at work on his brain.
Why in God’s name had he told her he’d be accompanying her and the team on some dives, when that was the last thing he wanted to do . . . especially if he intended to maintain his sanity?
Unfortunately, as dumb as he was feeling, Sean had the answer to that one. It pained him to realize that he was still as hung up on Lily as ever—and just as susceptible to her disdain.
It had taken her, what, two hours since she waltzed back into Coral Beach to accuse him of crooked politics?
Did Lily have any idea of the high-wire act he was attempting by trying to get the reef accurately documented and assessed before he took a public stance on the marina development? No, of course not. Sean might have filled her in, if she hadn’t made it clear she assumed his sole motivation was political gain.
Stung, he’d retaliated in kind, implying that Lily might stoop so low as to manipulate the reef study—even though Sean knew the sun would set in the east before Lily Banyon committed an act of professional dishonesty. Her integrity had always been one of the things he admired most about her. That Lily actually fell for his bogus threat merely showed how profound her distrust, her dislike of him was.
At the Rusted Keel, Dave had urged him to seize the opportunity to go on the research boat and work on charming Lily.
Yeah, Sean thought acidly, as he carried the cocktails toward the living room. He and Lily were off to their usual great start.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“The nerve of him. How dare he imply that she might try and manipulate a scientific study. “Now it’s your turn to listen, Mr. Mayor. I don’t give a damn about your political ambitions, or your plans for Coral Beach,” she hissed. “They mean nothing to me. The only thing I care about is the condition of this town’s reef. You managed to get one thing right, though. I do have a good reputation. It’s excellent, actually. Say one thing to defame it, and I will sink your political career faster than the Titanic.” Incensed, Lily shoved the car door open and scrambled out. Sean’s opened in tandem.
His words carried over the sound of doors slamming, one after the other. “I always think it’s great to clear the air like this. Must admit, I’m looking forward to these next few weeks. Diving with a world-renowned scientist. Hey, maybe I’ll even drop by the lab; we could do an experiment together, just for old times’ sake. Wouldn’t that be fun, Lily?”
Lily glared at his smiling face. Her most fervent wish was that they might already be in the water. So she could drown him.
As if he could read her mind, Sean shook his head. “Shame on you, Lily,” he cheerfully mocked. “Now, let’s see a big, happy smile for your Granny May.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Know what’s nice about you, Lily?” he said, laughter still threading his voice.
“I can’t imagine,” she snapped.
“You never change.”
“Neither do you. You’re as obnoxious as ever.”
“That’s me. Ran on the obnoxious ticket,” he agreed complacently. “Landslide victory.”
She was driving like a maniac, switching lanes as though she were in a chase scene in a cops and robbers film. Throughout, Sean remained aggravatingly relaxed. His fingers threaded behind his neck, he merely observed in a bored drawl, “By the way, we have speed limits in Coral Beach.”
“Tough. I can’t get to May Ellen’s fast enough, if it means I get to be rid of you.”
He sighed. “There you go, breaking my heart. I was hoping we’d have time to reminisce. No?”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Sean was already on his feet. He tossed a large tip on the bar. “Thanks again, Charlie. See you later, Dave.”
“See you,” Dave echoed. With a glimmer of a smile, he nodded in the direction of the parking lot. “Catching a ride?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
Sean had slipped his jacket off the back of the stool and was shrugging into it when one of the men seated at the corner spoke.
“Hey, McDermott, what’s your opinion? Silicone for sure, huh?”
Sean paused to glance their way. Ray and Frank were partners in a small-port fishing business. He knew them vaguely. Now he wished he didn’t. He shook his head in contempt. “Think I’d tell you, Ray?”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Like you actually know, McDermott. You claiming you’ve handled the goods, Mayor?” His tone matched the sneer on his face. “If so, the lady sure don’t seem to remember.” He poked Frank with his elbow. “Looked right through him, didn’t she, Frank?”
“Like a pane of glass.”
Sean ignored their snorts of laughter. “Let me give you some friendly advice,” he said mildly. “I’d be real careful not to let the lady catch you staring at her like that.”
Ray pulled a comical face, pretending to look scared, then laughed even harder.
Sean smiled in return. Yet when Ray opened his mouth to speak, he cut him off. “But if I’m the one who catches you gawking, if I hear you talking about her that way again—” he paused, and his smile turned dangerous—“your sorry carcasses will be feeding the fish.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“At the corner of the bar, a conversation rose in decibel, becoming animated.
“Yo, Frank, take a look at what just walked in! Is it Christmas already? ‘Cause that sure is a pretty package.”
“You got that right. . . . Wouldn’t mind unwrapping her bows.”
Instinctively, Sean cast a glance over his shoulder and groaned in despair. The scene from Casablanca played in his mind. . .Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
This could not be happening. This was his turf, his town, his bar. She had no right to trespass.
Okay, so this wasn’t Casablanca. This wasn’t Rick’s Café. Sam’s fingers weren’t summoning the haunting melody, “As Time Goes By,” from the ivories of an old upright piano. There weren’t any ceiling fans with long propeller-like blades slicing through thick clouds of cigarette smoke, nor were the voices that could be heard an exotic mélange of foreign languages and accents.
But those differences were superficial, of no consequence. The only thing that really mattered was that Sean understood exactly how Bogie felt when his eyes lit on Ingrid Bergman. That terrible mix of bitterness, longing, and fury eating away at him.
He groaned again.
At the sound, the two men sitting at the corner of the bar broke off their conversation, eyeing Sean curiously. Just as quickly, they dismissed him and returned to their avid inspection.
“Must be lost or confused. Palm Beach is twenty-five miles north.”
“Let’s be friendly and give her directions. How ‘bout that, Ray?”
“You frigging nuts? The only directions I’m giving her are to the slip where my houseboat’s moored.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Sean watched Lily turn as if to follow them. Clearly she wished to avoid him. While Sean wasn’t terribly eager to chat about the good old days, Lily’s patent reluctance to speak to him had the predictably perverse effect of his being determined to do so.
“So, your Lungness, I see you’ve finally decided to come up for air.” The nickname was a relic from their swim team days, and had popped out unintentionally. Still, it had the desired result: Lily stopped in her tracks.
She turned and faced him. “I assume this is one of your lame attempts at wit. As usual, though, you’ve fallen way short of the mark. I have no idea what you’re referring to, nor do I particularly care. However, if you call me that again, I’ll walk right out that door.”
“What? Your Lungness?” he repeated, all innocence, ignoring the fact that his behavior was childish, unprofessional, too.
How could she stand there looking so coolly collected, as if seeing him again meant absolutely nothing to her? Because, you idiot, an inner voice mocked, that’s exactly what you are to Lily. Nothing.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“The time had come, Sean determined, to face the woman of his nightmares, of his dreams.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“He walked over to his place, the center of a U-shaped configuration of tables, and set his papers down, pretending to consult them. Instead, he inspected Lily covertly, hoping to detect a weakness, some tiny chink in her armor.
Damn her for being more beautiful than ever, he thought. A single glance and he began wanting things he knew were impossible.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“Surprised at Kaye’s belated display of maternal instincts, Sean relented, promising he’d get in touch with Lily. Besides, he knew his own mother would never forgive him if he refused such a simple request. As he made his way down the narrow streets to the pensione opposite the Pantheon, where Lily and her roommate were staying, Sean steadfastly refused to acknowledge any other reason for agreeing to take Lily out. It had been three years since they’d left for college, not once had she come home to visit. But Sean still couldn’t look at a blonde without comparing her to Lily.
He’d mounted the four flights of narrow, winding stairs, the sound of his steps muffled by red, threadbare carpet. At number seventeen, he’d stopped and stood, giving his racing heart a chance to quiet before he knocked.
Calm down, he’d instructed himself. It’s only Lily.
His knock echoed loudly in the empty hall. Through the door he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Then it opened and there she was. She stood with her mouth agape. Her eyes, like beacons of light in the obscurity of the drab hallway, blinked at him with astonishment. “What are you doing here?” The question ended on a squeak. As if annoyed with the sound, she shut her mouth with an audible snap.
Was it possible Kaye hadn’t bothered to tell Lily he’d be coming?
“I heard you were spending a few days in Rome.” Sean realized he was staring like a dolt, but couldn’t help himself. It rattled him, seeing Lily again. A barrage of emotions and impressions mixed and churned inside him: how good she looked, different somehow, more self-confident than in high school, how maybe this time they might get along for more than 3.5 seconds. He became aware of a happy buzz of anticipation zinging through him. He was already picturing the two of them at a really nice trattoria. They’d be sitting at an intimate corner table. A waiter would come and take their order and Sean would impress her with his flawless Italian, his casual sophistication, his sprezzatura. By the time the waiter had served them their dessert and espresso, she’d be smiling at him across the soft candlelight. He’d reach out and take her hand. . . .
Then Lily spoke again and Sean’s neat fantasy evaporated like a puff of smoke.
“But how did you know I was here?” she’d asked, with what he’d conceitedly assumed was genuine confusion—that is, until a guy their age appeared. Standing just behind Lily, he had stared back at Sean through the aperture of the open door with a knowing smirk upon his face.
And suddenly Sean understood.
Lily wasn’t frowning from confusion. She was annoyed. Annoyed because he’d barged in on her and Lover Boy.
Lily didn’t give a damn about him. At the realization, his jumbled thoughts at seeing her again, all those newborn hopes inside him, faded to black.
His brain must have shorted after that. Suave, sophisticated guy that he was, Sean had blurted out, “Hey, this wasn’t my idea. I only came because Kaye begged me to—”
Stupendously dumb. He knew better, had known since he was eight years old. If you wanted to push Lily Banyon into the red zone, all it took was a whispered, “Kaye.”
The door to her hotel room had come at his face faster than a bullet train.
He guessed he should be grateful she hadn’t been using a more lethal weapon, like the volleyball she’d smashed in his face during gym class back in eleventh grade. Even so, he’d been forced to jump back or have the number seventeen imprinted on his forehead.
Their last skirmish, the one back in Rome, he’d definitely lost. He’d stood outside her room like a fool, Lover Boy’s laughter his only reply. Finally, the pensione’s night clerk had appeared, insisting he leave la bella americana in peace. He’d gone away, humiliated and oddly deflated.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel

“But Sean wasn’t going to let her win.
Not this time. She’d won the last round, back in Rome, when the wooden door to her room in the slightly cheesy pensione nearly flattened him.”
― Laura Moore, Night Swimming: A Novel