K. Linde - Off the Record

A black town car slowed to a stop directly in front of her. Was this real life? She pulled open the door and sat down on the black interior. She glanced around the car, deflated when she saw that Brady wasn’t already in it. She figured they would be picking him up along the way.

“Morning, Ms. Carmichael,” the driver said, turning around and giving her a smile.

It took her still-drowsy mind a minute to piece together that she was actually Ms. Carmichael. Of course Brady would tell the driver to pick up Sandy Carmichael and not Liz Dougherty. And thus, her secret identity was now a reality.

“Good morning,” she said, stifling a yawn.

The man chuckled. “You can call me, Greg. Buckle up. We have about an hour drive ahead of us,” he said, continuing down the empty street.

“All right. Thank you,” she answered politely. An hour away. Where was he taking her that was an hour away? She could drive pretty much in any direction and hit a major city an hour outside of Chapel Hill. When they had talked on the phone, Brady hadn’t given her any clues, and she didn’t suspect the driver would be any help either. He was paid to get her there and no more.

She wanted to nap on the drive, but despite sleep deprivation she was too excited to rest. Plus, she had actually taken the time to do her hair and put on makeup. The last thing she needed was to show up, wherever they were going, with a print from the car on her face.

Instead, she pulled out her notepad that she always kept tucked away in her purse, right next to her handy-dandy voice recorder, and started flipping through her scribbled notes for her next article on the upcoming election. She had received another B paper from her professor. Professor Mires thought she was getting closer to the target, but she still had a lot of work to do. Liz had never tried so hard in her entire life to meet the expectations of one of her instructors. And she would be damn sure that she excelled.

By the time they pulled off the interstate, she had constructed an outline for the article. She tilted her head to the side as she rearranged some of the words. It didn’t feel exactly right yet. She didn’t know what she was missing and it was frustrating her. Maybe it would be better once she actually sat down and typed it all out.

“Nearly there, Ms. Carmichael,” Greg said, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

“Fantastic,” Liz said, dropping her pen into her purse and straightening to inspect her surroundings.

They were rolling down a narrow street where the lines had all but disappeared. Trees lined the craggy-looking road as tall as the eye could see, and they leaned forward, creating a tunnel through which to drive. They could be anywhere in the North Carolina countryside right now.

The road curved around a smooth bend and opened right up to the lakefront. Liz perked up and leaned forward between the front seats to catch the view. She could just see the other edge of the lake from her vantage point. Stunning lake houses dotted the perimeter, some as small as huts and others as large as mansions.

“Wow,” she breathed as the morning light caught the gleam of the blue water. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is indeed,” Greg said, turning to the right and driving around the lake.

Liz wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but a secluded lake an hour outside of the city was not it. She had mistakenly assumed another hotel. They’d had a great time in that hotel, but it couldn’t compare to the lake. Did he have a house here? Would they have the place to themselves?

Her mind wandered off in that direction and a big smile crossed her face. A day at the lake house sounded amazing.

She frowned at the thought of not having a suit to wear. She knew that he had said that he preferred her in nothing, but he had to think that they would actually go out on the lake together. Why else would he bring her there, other than for the privacy?

Greg turned down a side street and pulled into the driveway of a two-story log cabin–style house with a wraparound porch and a small set of stairs leading up to the front door. The second story was almost entirely made of floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Trees and bushes perfectly landscaped the yard, and rows of tulips wrapped around the mailbox. Her favorite.

“Here you are, ma’am,” Greg said, getting out of the car and running around to her side. He opened the door for her, and she stepped out, mesmerized. “Senator Maxwell has asked that I show you inside. He is delayed by business and hopes that you understand the inconvenience.”

Understand? She was at the most gorgeous lake house she had ever seen.

“Follow me,” he said with a smile. He trotted down the stone path to the stairs, retrieved a key from his suit coat, and allowed her access to the house. “He’s taken the liberty of providing breakfast for you, and wanted to be sure to let you know that there should be swimsuits upstairs that fit you.”

Liz nodded, completely bewildered. She tentatively stepped over the threshold and openly gawked at the interior. The entire house was solid wood, from the high-beamed ceilings to the wood floors. A stone fireplace took up the entirety of one wall. The furniture was artfully tailored to match the beauty of the house, set in a neutral earthy palette with deep dark hardwood tables, a soft sand-colored sofa, and olive and light brown chairs with deep sea-blue throw pillows and matching quilts. Lanterns and woodsy decorations adorned the mantel, and candles burned in rustic pillar holders around the room.

The bottom floor was entirely open save for two doors leading off to guest bedrooms. The kitchen connected directly to the living room, with an island in the center and two high-backed bar stools. A balcony from the second floor overlooked the kitchen and dining area, bringing in even more natural light from the surrounding windows. But best of all, the back wall was solid glass overlooking the lakefront.

Liz turned around to face the driver once more. “Is this for real?”

“Beg your pardon?” he asked, linking his fingers together and resting them on his stomach.

“I mean, thank you. Thank you for letting me inside. Was there anything else he told you?” she asked, desperate to know when he would be arriving.

“Unfortunately not, but I’m sure he won’t be much longer if he knows what is waiting for him,” he said with an encouraging smile.

Liz laughed, feeling lighthearted and free for the first time in a while. She dumped her bag on a chair and walked through the living room to the back of the house. She found a latch on the far wall, switched it to open, and pushed the entire glass wall sideways. It slid easily into a thin seam encased in the wooden wall.

She walked forward onto a wooden deck twice as wide as the house, where a speedboat and two Jet Skis were docked. An outside stone fireplace mirrored the interior, and wicker deck furniture faced the lake. A sturdy hemp hammock swayed between two support beams. A set of stairs led down to a rocky beach, where a pier extended out to a swimming platform with a stepladder. The lake house was almost completely secluded from the rest of the lake’s inhabitants. Land curved into the lake to the right and then bent back away from them so that it formed its own little cove. It felt isolated and homey.

Liz loved the water, but she was used to the ocean. The lake looked so calm and serene next to the choppy Gulf of Mexico she was accustomed to back in Tampa. She had grown up on the water, and it made her feel at home.

She spent a few minutes exploring the deck, beach, and pier, but was soon perspiring from the humidity. She returned to the house, where she retraced her steps and found a set of stairs to the second floor. Liz’s mouth dropped open. It opened up to a full-size loft with its own smaller sitting area and sliding wooden doors that were currently open to reveal a four-poster king-sized bed. The bedroom itself was so massive it had its own fireplace.

She took a few tentative steps, feeling in some way as if she were intruding. Greg had told her that the swimsuits were upstairs, but she hadn’t been expecting upstairs to look like this.

As she approached, she saw a note with her name on it on the bed. Her heart accelerated and she picked it up. She felt as if she was in a bizarre world. People didn’t do these things. Guys didn’t leave handwritten notes at their massive private lake houses or have a driver pick you up in a town car just so they could see you. Whose life was she living?

She opened the card and read the contents.

Suits are in the closet on the right, but you don’t have to wear one. It’s just coming off anyway.

—B

Liz traced her fingers over the words. She could not fucking wait. Tucking the card into the back pocket of her shorts, she made her way into the closet to search out a bathing suit.

She left the room wearing a gold bathing suit with a slight shimmer. It accented her complexion and highlighted her blond hair. The suit was a basic triangle top, but it held her in as much as any of the other ones. She loved bikinis, even though her breasts were generally too big for most styles, and she felt a bit too curvy for the string tie bottoms that she loved.

Walking down the stairs, she reached into her purse for her phone and checked her email. She yawned, still tired from waking up so early, and padded back outside. It was too nice to be cooped up inside.

She thumbed through the news articles absentmindedly. She wasn’t really paying attention to what they said. She stretched out on the hammock as a call flashed on her screen.

Victoria.

Liz didn’t want to talk to her friend right now. She was in paradise, and she couldn’t even tell her about it. Even if Victoria would keep her secret, she didn’t feel comfortable risking it. What if they were found out? She would rather tell no one and know that she wasn’t to blame.

She ignored the call with a sigh and curled up on her side. A couple minutes later her phone beeped again with a voice mail. Liz pressed it to her ear.

“Hey, bitch! Answer your fucking phone. I hopped on a plane to London yesterday and I’m fucking tanked. Do you remember that hot-ass TA I was fucking at the end of the semester? He’s doing some kind of study-abroad teaching thing.”

Liz cringed. This sounded like trouble.

“He invited me to stay at his place, so we’re basically living at the pub and in his sweet suite that the university actually fucking paid for. I’m living a dream right now. I should have fucking invited you beforehand, and now I feel like an ass. There are about five million gorgeous Brits with accents here.”

Victoria was living the dream? Liz looked around the lake house and shook her head. She was on cloud nine.

“You should totally hop the pond and all that. Either way, I’m coming back to Chapel Hill instead of Jersey. We’re going to get your nerdy ass out of the office. Anyway, call me back, bitch. Love your face!”

Liz couldn’t help but laugh. Victoria was utterly ridiculous in the best possible way. Only she would hop the pond, as she said, to sleep with a TA for a couple weeks.

She stared out across the expansive lake. The temperatures hadn’t yet heated the air to an uncomfortable degree, and a slight breeze was rolling in off of the lake. It was peaceful. She felt comfortable here even without Brady.

Her phone buzzed again and she saw Brady’s name flash on her screen.

On my way to you.

Liz smiled and jotted back a text. Good.

It’ll be good when I’m with you. Can’t wait to see which suit you picked.

Her grin grew at the comment, and as she was about to respond another text flashed on her screen from Brady.

I’m hoping for nothing.

Liz felt the hammock rock side to side gently, pulling her out of her catnap. Hands traced the sides of her body, and lips captured her own in a searing kiss. She groaned against Brady’s mouth, her body waking immediately. Their tongues explored each other and she wound her hands up into his thick, dark hair. She threaded her fingers through the short strands, tugging lightly. His strong hands held her face in place, and his thumb stroked her cheek. She hadn’t felt this alive since the last time he had touched her.

“Mornin’,” Brady said with a grin before pressing his lips to hers once more.