Author: K.A. Linde

“Are you from the area then?” Chris asked.

“No, my family lives in Tampa. My dad’s a professor at South Florida,” she told them.

“Your dad is a professor?” Brady asked, stopping his movements on the controller and turning to look at her. Chris proceeded to kill Brady’s character off.

“Yeah,” she said, staring up into his dark, intense eyes.

“I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked.”

“What does he teach?” Brady asked, suddenly very interested.

“Calculus primarily.”

“Huh. And you’re not a math person?” he asked.

“I’m a Morehead scholar. I’m perfectly fine at math. It’s just not my area of interest,” she told him diplomatically.

That got Chris’s attention. “You’re a Morehead scholar?” he asked, sounding very impressed. “Isn’t that the highest merit scholarship in the school?”

Liz shrugged, her cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It is.”

“Damn,” he said, appraising her.

“That’s impressive,” Brady said softly.

“Thanks,” she said, embarrassed. She turned away from his heated look and let them get back to their game. She hadn’t thought her answers would distract them so much, but she couldn’t deny that she liked how interested Brady had been in her background.

The guys played a couple games together, and Liz felt herself dozing off again. She rarely got much sleep when she was with Brady, but it tended to be for other reasons entirely.

“Hey, are you falling asleep?” Brady asked, nudging her lightly.

“Oh, no,” she said, jumping up. “I’m not.”

“You guys need to come up to New York sometime,” Chris said. “My place there is smaller than this and I pay ten times as much on it, but you can’t beat the location in Manhattan.”

Liz looked up at Brady as he turned to look at her. She could read his expression. Chris clearly knew that they weren’t out in public. Brady wouldn’t have brought them here otherwise.

“What are you doing in North Carolina, anyway?” she asked, changing the subject so Brady didn’t have to respond. Brady kissed her lips once before returning to his game. She wondered if that was her thank you.

“Oh, I’m here for Brady’s fucking gala event or whatever it is this weekend,” Chris told her.

“Oh, really? I didn’t know you would be there,” Liz said. That was promising. At least she would know one other person besides Brady.

“Yeah. Are you going?”

She looked up at Brady expectantly. “Yeah, I got her a ticket,” he said.

“You two are going together?” Chris asked, mashing one of the buttons repeatedly with his thumb.

Brady sighed and looked down at her. She could tell he wasn’t happy with that question. She knew they couldn’t go together. She really, really wanted to go with him, but he wasn’t going to let that happen…not right before the primary. This was what she had signed up for, but she couldn’t help silently pleading with him to change his mind.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea with the election coming up,” Brady said.

Chris looked as if he wanted to say more about it, but he didn’t. And that closed it. “You know, you could always go with me.”

“What?” Brady asked before Liz could speak.

“Hear me out. I don’t have a date, and she doesn’t have a date. It would be better for both of us if we went together. Then no weird old ladies will try to hand me off to their sons, and, yes, that has happened before,” Chris told them.

“I don’t know,” Liz said, trying to read Brady’s reaction.

“It’s really a flawless plan,” Chris said.

“What do you think?” Liz asked Brady.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear so that Chris couldn’t hear. “I don’t want anyone else even near you, but compared to the alternative, Chris is tolerable. As long as you know, baby, you’re going home with me.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” she whispered back.

Brady smiled and nodded at Chris. “I think that will work better than you both showing up alone. I can send you the details for the weekend.”

“Sounds good,” Chris said, stretching exaggeratedly. “I think I’m beat. I’m going to go to bed. You guys feel free to stay. I have a guest room down that hallway.” He pointed off in the opposite direction of where he was walking. “Really nice meeting you, Liz.”

“Nice meeting you, too.”

Chris walked up the stairs to the second floor and out of sight. Brady planted his lips on hers, cradled her body against his, picked her up, and carried her into the guest bedroom.

“Look,” Brady said, kicking the door closed with his foot and setting her down, “the surprise comes with a bed.”

Chapter 21

WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR

Liz walked forward into the ballroom that housed Brady’s big gala event. Chris was standing at her side, looking dashing out of his khakis and into a tux. His longer light brown hair was trimmed, and he had shaved. He handed off the pair of tickets Brady had left with them, and they glided through the doors.

The room was a surprising display. Liz had expected the typical red-white-and-blue decor that she had associated with political campaigns, but it seemed that had been replaced with actual evening decorations in black, white, and gold. High tables, covered in alternating silky tablecloths, were scattered around the massive ballroom, where guests mingled with drinks in hand. The waitstaff wandered the premises in tailored tuxedos and shimmery black dresses, carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes on gold platters.

A sizable number of influential members of North Carolina society were present, along with a few notable politicians, celebrities, and business executives from outside the state whom Liz recognized. Everyone was dressed to the nines and had probably paid a pretty penny in donations to be at this fund-raising event.

Liz took a deep breath and tried not to think about it. Brady wanted her here tonight even though the party was only supposed to be for donors, friends, and family. She felt extremely on edge in the ballroom surrounded by all of these people, knowing she was essentially Brady’s mistress.

No, he wasn’t married. No, he wasn’t dating anyone. No, she wasn’t technically a mistress. But she was a secret and that was enough.

After the time they had spent with Chris out in the open, she had started feeling antsy. She hadn’t seen Brady since that night, but she felt like the paradigm of their relationship had forever changed now that someone knew what they were doing. If Chris knew, why couldn’t Victoria know? Why couldn’t his family know? Why couldn’t the whole campaign know?

She didn’t like to think about it. She knew it would upset him if she mentioned it, but they were so good together. Would it really be the end of the world if other people knew what they were doing? Would it really jeopardize the campaign and her career? She knew that they had started out a secret for that very reason, but she hadn’t ever expected to want to change that. Now that she did…she couldn’t help wondering if they had just blown it out of proportion to begin with.

Liz followed Chris to an empty table and he smiled at a few people he knew. She was really surprised by how many faces she recognized. Like the governor…wasn’t he from a different party? And two basketball celebrities…had they played with Brady in college? And a news reporter from the Washington Post and another one that Liz followed from the New York Times. She knew that no press was allowed in the event, and they weren’t wearing badges or carrying equipment. Were they supporters?

Liz knew she shouldn’t be in reporter mode, but she couldn’t help it. It was who she was. Ingrained in her now. This event wasn’t open to the press, but her fingers were itching for the voice recorder and notebook she normally carried with her. She only had a deep red satin clutch with her, at Victoria’s insistence.

The day after she met Chris, she had gone shopping with Victoria at the mall and some of the local boutiques. Liz had been ready to call it quits and wear what she had, but Victoria had urged her into a few more shops. A few more shops had actually been closer to a dozen, in true Victoria style.

It had been worth it though when they had found the dress. Liz hadn’t been sure about it until Victoria had forced her to try it on. The champagne-colored silk hugged her figure seamlessly, falling to the floor, the train trailing out ever so slightly behind her. It had a square bustier top with a small V dipping between her breasts. The beaded straps crossed her back and held up the backless ensemble, which was ruched at the base of her spine.

Miraculously, after she matched it with dark red pumps, it didn’t need any alterations. Victoria had piled Liz’s thick, blond hair up off her neck and into curls. The only jewelry on her whole body was a thin gold necklace and gold-knotted earrings.

“Champagne?” the waitress asked as she passed.

Chris glanced at Liz. “You?”

“Sure,” she said, taking a drink from the waitress.

Chris held up his hand and she moved on. “I think I’ll head to the bar and get something else. I prefer beer. Did you want something?”

Liz took a sip of her champagne and then set it down. She couldn’t get sloshed. She needed to take it easy. “I think I’m good with the champagne.”

“All right,” he said with a smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Hey,” Liz said, reaching out and touching his arm. “When will Brady get here?”

Brady had told her that he wouldn’t be there when the event started, but he would make an appearance once the room started filling up. She just didn’t know when to expect him. She was already excited to see him.

“I’m sure he’ll be late to his own gig.” He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Probably in the next twenty to thirty minutes if we’re lucky. The sooner he gets here, the sooner we leave.”

Liz giggled and shook her head. “What? Afraid of getting pawned off to someone’s son again?”

“Don’t get me started. I’ll tell you that story later, and then you won’t be laughing!” he said before turning and walking toward the bar.

Liz took another drink of her champagne and went back to people watching. Brady would be here in the next twenty minutes or so, which meant she had a little bit of time to size up the crowd.

She figured she was the youngest person in the room besides Savannah, whom she picked out in an Anne Boleyn green dress across the room. Most of the donors in the room who contributed to Brady’s campaign were up-and-comers riding the bandwagon of success. There were a sizable number of older individuals, women primarily, who all seemed to know one another. She was pretty sure she recognized some of them from her table at the Jefferson-Jackson event.

“Find what you’re looking for?” a voice drawled softly into her ear.

She turned around slowly and looked up into an oddly familiar face, but not the one she had been expecting. Where had she seen this person before? He had short blond hair, beautiful blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks. So familiar…yet she couldn’t place him.

“I wasn’t looking for anything,” she covered quickly, flushing.

“For you,” he said, offering her a glass half-full of dark liquid.

Some guy was bringing her a drink…out of nowhere. That felt oddly familiar as well.

“Um…thanks,” she said, taking it out of his hand.

He chuckled, those cute dimples returning. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Busted! “No, sorry. You do look really familiar…”

“We met on the Fourth of July,” he offered. “You were having a medical emergency. Claustrophobic, if I remember correctly. How are you handling this event?” he asked amicably.