Do not read until you are in your room.

—B

All right, she thought, a big smile spreading on her face. She really freaking liked his little notes.

Liz took the envelope and headed to the elevators, ready to be up in her room to find out what was inside the letter. She pressed the button for the top floor and waited as the elevator took its time. It finally deposited her on her floor, and she found her room near the end of the hallway. She slid her keycard into the slot and opened the door into a beautiful suite twice the size of the one she’d had with Brady in Charlotte after the Jefferson-Jackson gala.

She dropped her bags in the entranceway and closed the door. She couldn’t believe that Brady had gotten her this room for two nights in Hilton Head. She was having a hard time believing any of it.

The resort hotel room had a full living room with couch and chairs matching those in the lobby, a dark wooden dining room table set, and a beach-inspired kitchen with light wood cabinetry, granite countertops, and brand-new sleek black appliances. An open door led to a large master bedroom with a king-sized bed, and the master bath came complete with standing glass shower and Jacuzzi tub. But the best part about the whole suite was the exquisite balcony view of the ocean.

Taking the envelope with her, Liz sat down on one of the chairs outside and tore open the letter.


I hope you like your suite. I wanted you to have an ocean view. I’ve added the spa package to the room, so treat yourself. My schedule for the weekend is attached.

Liz glanced at the second page and saw a list of events that Brady had to attend. Dinner that night with the family and meetings for the campaign after. The next day, he had time blocked off for the family for most of the day, which was disappointing. She would have liked to spend some beach time with him, but of course, that was impossible. That night was dinner and drinks with potential donors. Neither night had an end time, just a start time.


I’ll give you a call when I’m on my way, from a private number that isn’t being traced. I’d advise you to stay on resort properties at all times. The last thing we want is for you to be seen. Can’t wait to get my hands on you.

—B

Her core heated at the thought of him. Brady Maxwell had gone to all of this trouble for her. She hoped she would see him sooner rather than later. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized quite how much she had missed him…just him, exactly how they were when they were together.

Though she had to admit she wasn’t sure what to think about the part about not being allowed to leave. Not that she’d had any plans to go anywhere else, but she did kind of want to see the island. She had never been to Hilton Head, and it seemed silly to stay at the hotel the whole time. Well, she would figure it out.

Not wanting to waste any more time considering it, she called down to the spa to schedule her appointment. By the time Brady came to see her that night, she wanted to look amazing.

Liz spent the afternoon at the beach soaking up the summer sun. It made her miss her parents’ house in Tampa, and she wished that she had taken time out of her busy schedule to see them. She still had a couple weeks left before school started. Maybe it would do her some good to go visit her family. Though she found it hard to think about leaving Brady again after what happened last time she did.

As the sun started hanging low on the horizon, Liz returned to the resort and spent her time at the spa. A few hours later, she had been massaged, pampered, waxed, had her fingernails and toes painted, and her blond hair straightened so smoothly that she was afraid to go outside. She walked back to her room feeling unbelievably relaxed.

Brady hadn’t called or texted from the private number, but she figured dinner was winding down now, so she would hear from him soon. She ordered room service for a quick meal, and then applied soft makeup. Liz dug into her suitcase and pulled out a black lace babydoll and matching thong. She had packed them last-minute, wondering whether she would ever strike up the nerve to wear them, but after her time in the spa, she couldn’t think of a better occasion.

After she was all dolled up, she wasn’t really sure what to do from there. She still hadn’t heard from Brady, and truth be told, she felt a bit ridiculous sitting around in lingerie. But it hadn’t been that long, and she could wait for him.

Liz flipped open her laptop and started surfing through her favorite newspapers. She read the headlines and hooks to see if anything caught her eye, but she was too anxious to be interested. She had an email from Professor Mires regarding her research assistant position for the fall, but even that didn’t hold the same excitement it had when she had first spoken to her professor.

A few more hours rolled by and Liz’s anxiety had morphed into full-on frustration. Where the hell was he? More than that…why hadn’t he even called her to let her know that he wasn’t going to be here until later?

She felt ridiculous waiting up like this. Here she was dressed in full lingerie, she had taken the time to get her hair and nails done, she was wearing makeup…and hell, she had heels waiting by the bedroom door. And still no Brady.

Her gentle yawns turned into full-blown yawns at about two in the morning. Her eyes were fluttering closed, and she felt herself drifting off. By three o’clock, she had almost crashed into her computer a few times, and when she actually did, that was the final straw. She couldn’t wait up any longer.

Liz pulled her babydoll over her head and threw it into a corner in anger. She was such an idiot. Why had she gone through the trouble at all of getting dressed up and then waiting for him? She yanked an oversize T-shirt over her head and went into the bathroom to remove her makeup.

By the time she had finished scrubbing her face and crawled into bed, she was wide-awake. At that moment, she hated adrenaline. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget that she had been that girl—the kind of girl to stay up all night waiting uselessly for a guy who hadn’t even bothered to call. How could he have planned this whole thing, gotten her to a freaking island, and then not called to let her know he wasn’t coming to see her?

She ground her teeth, wondering whether she could feel any more ridiculous. Then she turned the volume all the way up on her phone and stuffed it under the pillow next to her.

That made her feel more ridiculous.


Liz awoke the next morning feeling as if she hadn’t slept all night. He eyes were swollen with bags underneath, hair a rat’s nest from tossing and turning, and she had a crick in her neck.

She grabbed her phone, hoping to see something from Brady, an apology preferably, but really anything to explain why he hadn’t called or texted or anything last night. When she turned on the screen, she found what she already knew she was going to find: Brady hadn’t tried to get hold of her.

Liz knew that Brady had plans all afternoon today as well, and she wasn’t supposed to see him until after dinner with his donors. That meant he had blown an entire night together, and they had only one more left. Whatever happened had better have been important.

Changing back into a bathing suit, Liz trekked down to the pool. She grabbed a secluded spot, ordered a daiquiri, and tried to forget about last night. There was almost no use trying, but she thought it would be worth a shot.