K. Linde - Off the Record

“I was curious how you were able to speak so strongly about my character when you haven’t had the chance to get to know me.”

“My article was based on your voting record. It was an accurate portrayal,” she responded unapologetically. His thumb trailed a circle into her lower back, soothing away her defenses.

“You should know that voting records don’t always tell the whole story,” he said with a smile. “Sometimes you really have to get to know a person before judging them so thoroughly.”

“You’re not going to change my mind about what I wrote, no matter how charming you are.”

“So, you think I’m charming?” he asked with a smirk that said he already knew he was.

She humphed and looked away. The heat was still rising between them, and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving in.

Brady’s head tilted down toward her ear, and he whispered, “I’m asking you to get to know me. Is that so bad?”

It wasn’t. Actually, with his mouth so close to her ear, it was sounding more and more like a better option than standing on this dance floor.

They left the sentence hanging between them as the song ended.

Liz dropped her arms to her sides reluctantly, and was surprised to find she actually wanted another dance. She had to agree with Brady; it was better when she was in his arms. And it felt like a weight had been placed on her shoulders when he let her go. But that wasn’t what she was here for. She wasn’t here to get to know Brady Maxwell. She was here to make connections and to make her time this summer at the paper tremendously easier. If she didn’t take the networking opportunities seriously tonight, then she would be in for an upward battle the rest of the campaign.

“I think I’ll go back to my cheesecake,” she murmured, wanting nothing more than to stay.

“I think you’ll stay with me.”

“Is that a good idea?” Liz couldn’t help but wonder how it might look if they were seen together. Not that she believed many people here either knew who she was or knew that she had written an article. They were probably safe, but she never felt like it surrounded by politicians and reporters.

“I think it’s the only idea I care about,” he told her as a matter of fact.

She swallowed hard. She knew what his intentions had been that night in VIP. Of course she had known, but without him in her presence she thought that maybe she had imagined how alluring and powerful his appeal was.

“I know I’m keeping you from your cheesecake,” Brady said with a smile, “but you’ll have to forgive me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I think I can manage to forgive you,” Liz whispered. If she could be more shocked than she already was, she didn’t think it was possible. He was so forward…so different from all the other guys she was used to. She was sure that was part of his charm, but how could she resist it?

It worried her a bit—a very little bit at the moment—that she didn’t even want to resist him. She had never had the impulsive demeanor of Victoria or the party-girl side of her college friends. Liz’s world was rooted in reality, and she had always liked it that way. But she was starting to think that was only because she had never met anyone quite like Brady Maxwell.

And he was staring at her with an unrivaled intensity. She had the odd feeling that Brady Maxwell was seducing her. He had said that he wanted her at the club, but this…this was entirely different. This was him at his finest, and she wasn’t just happily falling victim to his charming words, gentle touches, piercing eyes, and knowing smiles; she wanted this.

“Liz?” he asked discreetly, brushing his hand up her arm, sending shivers up her spine.

“Yes?” Her eyes fluttered closed at the electricity flowing through her body at his touch. They opened back up to stare into his eyes, and she felt her walls crumbling.

“We should go,” he said, lust evident in his voice.

Even knowing it could be a bad idea, she nodded. “Couldn’t agree more.”

“I have a limo out front. Give the valet this,” Brady told her, pulling a small slip of paper out of his pocket. “I’ll meet you there.”

Liz took the paper out of his hand and without another thought veered toward the door. This was not like her. It was not like her at all. One-night stands weren’t in her repertoire. Yet here she was leaving the Jefferson-Jackson gala that she was supposed to be working for networking contacts to get in Senator Brady Maxwell III’s limo.

How had her world flipped upside down so easily?

Liz was leaving the gala. She was actually leaving.

She took a deep breath and kept her feet moving toward the valet station. She had to force herself not to look over her shoulder at the party she was leaving behind. The evening was just beginning and she was walking out on the festivities.

It was deserted outside, and Liz briefly wondered if anyone would notice her absence. No one had known she would be in attendance, and she wasn’t a name in journalism. Hayden was the only one who knew she was going to be here, and she didn’t want to think about him right now. Liz tucked her gold clutch under her arm higher and strode to the valet.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked with a smile.

Liz handed him the slip of paper Brady had given her and waited as he called for the limo. She tried not to think about her decision. If she thought about it too much, she wouldn’t go through with it; she wouldn’t get into that limo. And she knew that if she didn’t, she would regret it forever.

She wasn’t prone to rash actions, but something about Brady made her insides flop. Her body heated despite the weather being balmy, comfortable, and beautifully breezy. She felt more as if she were sitting in the heat of her Tampa home than the cool North Carolina weather.

A long black stretch limo pulled up to the valet and he motioned her over.

“Here you are, miss,” the valet said, pulling the door open for her.

“Thank you,” Liz said, sliding onto the black leather seat. The door closed behind her and cast her into dim lighting.

She looked around, taken with the beautiful sleek interior. An uncorked bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket filled with ice. A flat-screen TV hung against the back wall, and a fully stocked minibar with an assortment of glasses took up a seat on the left.

Liz had never been in a limo before. Her high school boyfriend had wanted to get one for prom, but she had thought it was a waste of money. They had taken his dad’s BMW instead. And Brady had a limo just for a gala event. What a different world. Liz found it ironic that this would be her first experience. Victoria would die to know the details, but there was no way she could tell her.

She knew that this was a bad idea…a really bad idea. If anyone found out that she had slept with Brady, then she could lose all credibility as a journalist. It would be career suicide for her. The paper had been the only thing she had wanted and worked this hard for. Maybe she shouldn’t even be here. Maybe she should get out the other side and walk back to her car.

But she couldn’t. She wanted to be with Brady. He had this pull on her, and their connection was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It might be wrong, but she wanted this to happen.

After a few minutes, the limo door opened and her heart rate accelerated.

For a brief second, a part of her thought that it was all going to be some ill-conceived practical joke. Hayden was going to be on the other side of the door with Calleigh Hollingsworth and the other reporters. They would be laughing at her for committing so thoroughly to their prank on the new girl. Because why else would Brady Maxwell ask her to get into his limo?

But then Brady’s handsome face came into view. He looked at her, smiled that gorgeous, charming, incomparable smile, and she was lost once more.

“You stayed,” he said, sitting down next to her.

“Are you surprised?” Liz asked, déjà vu washing over her. How often did this man get turned down that he would seem so surprised that she was near him? Didn’t seem likely that it would be very often.

“This time, no,” Brady told her confidently. The door slammed shut, casting them back into darkness.

“Do you often take limos out?” She broke his intense gaze and focused on her surroundings.

“Sometimes. I was an honored guest tonight, so the gala provided one.”

“My lucky night, I guess,” she said with a smile in his direction.

He chuckled. “I actually think it’s mine. How else could I have impressed you?”

Liz tried not to gawk as she considered the question. She was pretty sure everything about him was impressive.

Watching his mouth quirk up at the side, she realized he was teasing her. That look of pure confidence did inappropriate things to her. She had the sudden urge to jump him right there in the limo. Normally that much cocky self-importance would have been a turnoff, but Brady was breaking every rule in her book.

The limo started moving then, taking them to their unknown destination. Liz didn’t even want to know or else she might chicken out. She would rather step out of the limo with him at some unfamiliar place and simply follow his lead.

“You didn’t have any champagne,” Brady said, pulling the bottle from the ice and pouring them each a flute. The dim light fell across the label. Dom Pérignon. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was.

“I wasn’t sure I could,” she admitted. Also, she was nervous as hell.

“Well, here you go.” He handed her a drink. They clinked their glasses together, and she drank the champagne faster than she anticipated. It tasted like pure, bubbly bliss, way smoother than anything she had ever tasted before. He took a sip from his own glass and placed it by the ice bucket while she finished hers off.

“Want another?” he asked with a soft chuckle.

“Yes, please,” Liz said, handing the glass back. Brady refilled it, and she took her time sipping the champagne. His eyes were watching her, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he going to make a move? Was he waiting for her to make a move? What did he want from her? She had too many thoughts coursing through her head, and she was wishing she’d had more to drink at the party to calm herself down.

Liz finished her second glass and handed it back to Brady. Instead of refilling it, he placed the empty glass next to his own and pulled her close to him. He draped an arm around the back of the seat and he laced their fingers together.

Her heart was pitter-pattering in her chest at his nearness. He was so warm and comfortable, and God, did she love the way his hands felt connected with hers. He sent chills up her spine as the pads of his fingertips traced soft lines into her skin. Their hips touched on the leather seat, and she could feel his muscular leg pressing against her own thigh. She crossed her legs at the knee as warm tingling sensations swept through her body.

He wasn’t doing anything more than holding her hand, and her body was already molten lava. His breath was hot on her neck as he stared down at her. He seemed to be waiting for her to look at him, but she wasn’t sure she could control her body at the moment.

“Liz?” he whispered into her ear. His forehead rested on her head as he breathed softly, waiting for her reply. She didn’t think she trusted her voice to answer.

When she didn’t respond, his mouth moved to her ear, nipping at it softly. He trailed his tongue down the side, causing her entire body to shiver in response. Nothing in her entire life had ever been so seductive, and she pressed her legs together in response. He must have known exactly what he was doing to her, because his grip on her hand tightened, and his other arm slid down to grasp her shoulder and pull her in closer.

“Liz?” he repeated, his voice a soft growl of desperation. Liz was sure that she would never want to hear her name uttered another way.

His tongue swirled around her earlobe, and her eyes fluttered closed, her head dropping back onto his arm in response. He tugged softly on the delicate skin, and she released a soft moan.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he groaned, his hand moving down her arm to circle her waist, grasping her tightly.

“Ye-yes,” Liz finally muttered breathily. She was surprised she was coherent at all.

“Look at me.”