K. Linde - Off the Record

More than her face was heated at his words. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying not to look away, but he had reminded her of all the things she wanted him to do to her again. It was too early for her body to be responding in this manner.

“So?” he prompted.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about those things…about you,” she fessed up.

“That’s what I thought.”

Cocky son of a bitch! she thought.

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to do this with you. Whatever this is,” she said, holding her hands up.

Brady sighed. “This is almost whatever you want it to be. It’s not public. It’s not in the news. It’s not a point the campaign can use against me. It’s a woman and a man taking what they can in a world where it’s not feasible for us to be together. I’m not promising you much, but I’m only asking for discretion. Everything else you give me is up to you.”

“Discretion.” She said the word like it was a viper ready to strike. Discretion wasn’t afforded in journalism.

“I’ll be up-front with you. I might hurt you. You’re going in knowing that. I’m choosing the campaign. I’m choosing Congress, because it’s what I want and what I believe in. Nothing, no one is getting in the way of me and the House of Representatives.”

How romantic, she grumbled in her head.

“I’m not going to pretend otherwise. I’m giving you what I can give you, and I’m telling you in advance you might get hurt. But it’s worth it to take the risk. I can damn well promise you that it’s worth it.”

He paused, waiting for her to say something. She wanted to tell him, Yes, God yes, a thousand times yes! But so much of this worried her. He was offering her so much, but holding back even more. What if she got invested? What the hell! She was already invested!

She couldn’t take more of him than he was offering, but if she turned him down, then she wouldn’t have any of him. One night in a dark hotel room wasn’t enough for her. It could never be enough.

Sitting there at a turning point, she remembered the feeling when she left the party in Charlotte. It was impulsive and downright insane compared to her normal behavior, but she had known then as she knew now that if she said no, she would regret it forever.

Liz never wanted to regret Brady Maxwell.

“All right,” she murmured, threading her fingers together.

“All right?”

“I agree to whatever we’re doing.”

Brady’s smile was entirely magnetic, taking her breath away. She wanted to be the reason for that smile, and every other one after it.

“So, what exactly are we doing?” she asked hesitantly.

“Do you still have that card I gave you?” She nodded, reaching into her purse and pulling it out of her wallet. He pointed out the different numbers. “This is my personal line. It’s best that you don’t try to reach me on it. I don’t check it or give it out frequently, because I suspect it’s being tapped. My parents and a couple college friends still use it, but that’s about it.”

Liz couldn’t imagine this kind of life. What were the other numbers for?

“This is my campaign line. It’s specifically for campaign-related information. I am always on it. I don’t think it’s been tapped by the opposition yet, but we’ll see how it goes. You can reach me on this one during the day. It would look strange for it to go off any other time. This number goes directly to my secretary. Right now her name is Nancy, but they come and go. She is the easiest way to get hold of me.”

Liz was buzzing with all of the information. Three separate lines for three separate things, and all to reach one man.

“So, I just call and ask for you?”

“Yes. She’ll ask for your name, and you’ll give her a fake one,” he instructed her.

“You’ve really thought his through, huh?” she asked, staring at him with newfound intrigue.

“It’s my job to think everything through,” he told her.

“If you did, then you wouldn’t have passed down that education bill,” she retorted.

Brady stared at her blankly, a look she had come to associate as his campaign mask. How had she come to know his faces so well already?

“Are you done?”

Liz shrugged. “Don’t use that face with me.”

“What face?” he asked, scrunching his brows together.

“Your campaign face. All serious with no emotion. I know you’re thinking something underneath there,” she said.

“You don’t want to know everything I’m thinking.”

“I beg to differ,” Liz told him.

“We’ll get to that later,” Brady said, shaking his head. “For now, let’s get on the same page, like calling my secretary to get hold of me.”

“How are you going to know it’s me if I give a fake name?”

“Well, choose one now and then I’ll know it.”

Liz shrugged. “I don’t know what to choose. What do you want me to be—Sandy Carmichael or something?” she asked, chuckling.

“Sure,” Brady agreed. “Sandy Carmichael it is then.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“You picked it.”

“Fine,” Liz said. It was an alias, after all. It didn’t matter.

“That’s the main thing,” he said, checking his watch. “There’s some more, but we can talk about that later. I think my time is up.”

“All right,” she said, standing as he did the same. “Should I contact you or…will you contact me?”

Brady smiled. “Already anxious to see me again.”

“As if you aren’t to see me,” she whispered.

“Touché,” he volleyed. “Until next time, Ms. Carmichael.”

She glared at him, hating the stupid name she had chosen. All she really wanted to do was wipe the smirk off his face. Well, kiss the smirk off his face. Okay, she really wanted to do a lot more than that.

They walked away from their booth and toward the front. He smiled at her, but was clearly trying to conceal his pleasure at being in her company. Liz was sure she wasn’t hiding it as well as he was.

She stopped him at the door. “Good-bye, Senator Maxwell,” she said sweetly, looking up at him with anything-but-innocent eyes.

Liz turned to leave, but he put one hand on her sleeve. She looked back at him curiously. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about this, but,” he said, as the bell clanged overhead, “this is strictly off the record.”

Liz’s feet carried her the couple blocks back to her house, but she didn’t remember the walk. She had just agreed to carry on an affair with Brady Maxwell. She was jeopardizing her career, her potential (nonexistent) relationship with Hayden, not to mention her privacy, for this man. Not just that, but she was now keeping a secret from everyone in her life. No one could know.

She felt very alone standing in her living room at that moment. Would it always feel like this? Victoria was back home, and she couldn’t talk to her about it anyway. Brady wasn’t able to come to her. She only got to be with him on his terms. Yet sitting around at the diner with him that morning, she couldn’t think of anything else she would rather do. Her world felt upside down, and she had let him do it. Had she really even fought him at all?

But what leverage did she have? She wanted to be with him. He made her feel alive. However she could have him, she would. That was his leverage. He had figured it out when he had tested her backstage at the auditorium. He had her hook, line, and sinker.

She was dead tired, but sleep wouldn’t pull her under. Her mind kept repeating what had happened this morning. Over and over she obsessed about every detail of their morning breakfast. He was going to such lengths to be with her; that had to count for something. She knew the terms. She knew what she had gotten herself into, and yet…

All she wanted to think about was how good he looked in regular clothes, the stubble on his chin, the way his hands held his coffee mug. Was she losing her grip on reality? This was just a guy!

She buried her head into her pillow in frustration. This was not just a guy. This was Brady.

And that was the damn point! How could she feel like this for him? He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was the guy she was sharpening her pitchfork over in the paper! And the guy she was spreading her legs for in the bedroom. It didn’t make sense. How could she have such duality when she thought about him?

When she realized she definitely wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep, she kicked her feet off the bed and shuffled around her room aimlessly. She needed to do something to clear her mind or she would be warring with herself all day. Throwing her hair into a slicked-back ponytail, Liz pulled on a white tennis skirt and top, laced her shoes up, and grabbed her racket on the way out the door.

Thankfully the tennis courts weren’t that far from her house. Liz had competed in high school on the state level and won a few championships, but never anything spectacular. She had been recruited for tennis by a few smaller schools in Florida, but she had wanted to go to Chapel Hill, so the offers hadn’t even been enticing. She felt a loss at not having hours and hours where she had to play each week. She’d had a tennis instructor since she was little, and moving here without her had been a struggle. It had taken Liz a while to find someone she liked in the area, but the woman was incredibly busy. Liz sometimes found it hard to fit into her schedule.

Today she would have to hope that someone would be there to play with her. Half of the people who frequented the courts were either older and couldn’t swing the racket the same anymore, or too young for it to be entertaining. The university students didn’t come to this court, since most of them lived on campus and used those courts.