Текст книги "Off the Record"

Автор книги: K. A. Linde

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter 12
GAME, SET, MATCH

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.

Pulling into the parking lot, Liz cut the engine and slid out of her silver Honda Accord. Her muscles tensed as she swung the racket methodically, anticipating the impending exercise. It was hard to think about much else when a small tennis ball was whizzing toward you.

She walked into the clubhouse with a smile. A teenage boy ogled her from behind the counter as she checked in.

“Is Tana in today?” Liz asked hopefully.

“Uhh,” the guy hesitated, trying to look cool and failing. “Let me check.” He stared down at a piece of paper for a second and then nodded. “Yeah, I think she’s with a student right now, though.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you. Is there anyone else teaching today who isn’t paired with someone?” she asked.

He checked the paper again. “Hank doesn’t have anyone for the next half hour. Want me to get him?”

Liz groaned. She didn’t like Hank. He was all power, all bulk. He didn’t understand the finesse that her instructors had always drilled into her. He thought that he could overpower his opponents and typically worked with students with a bit more muscle mass than her. But really maybe she needed to muscle Brady out of her thoughts.

“Hank will do,” she said softly.

The boy radioed for Hank as Liz walked out of the clubhouse and toward the tennis courts. The sun was already overhead beating down on her, and it was proving to be a blisteringly hot day. Running around on the court with no protection from the sun, pouring her heart and soul into the movements—yeah, that sounded like the perfect afternoon.

Hank appeared on the court a couple minutes later. He was in his late twenties and had played tennis in college, though not for Chapel Hill. He was one of those guys who had decided to coach to make extra money after he graduated, and never stopped. He was over six feet tall with broad muscular shoulders and a buzzed blond haircut. She secretly wondered whether he was balding and trying to hide the receding hairline.

“Morning, Hank,” she said politely.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you, Liz,” he said with a toothy smile that she had grown accustomed to.

“I didn’t have an appointment with Tana.”

“Well, I only have thirty minutes. So let’s get started,” he said. Hank walked across to the other side of the tennis court. He stood imposingly across the net from her and she took a moment to ready herself.

She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She could hear the players on either side of her court. Thwack. Pause. Thwack. Pause. Thwack. That was the right rhythm. That was the beat of her drum. The air buzzed all around her, and everything felt singled down to this one second.

Her vision narrowed as she focused in on Hank tapping the ball against the hard green surface and catching it repeatedly. He spun the racket in his hand, letting it rotate three times before grasping it tightly. He bounced the ball against his racket twice and she saw him smile. She knew then that he was ready.

He threw the ball overhead and, when it crested the peak, smacked it with the racket. She took one steadying breath as it sailed toward her as fast as he could muster—and that was pretty fast. Liz jostled her feet back and forth as the ball hit the opposite corner, and then she returned it with a powerful swing.

They volleyed back and forth for position, each coming out ahead at one point or another. It wasn’t an even match. Liz knew that going into it. Even if she had more skill in the subtleties, he was overall a more skilled player than she was. When he won, he gloated, but it was better than if she had beaten him. He was a sore loser too.

Liz tossed her racket onto the ground and rested her hands on her knees. Her breathing was coming out in gasps and sweat poured down her back, chest, and forehead. Some of it spilled into her eyes and she had to blink away the salt. She wiped her face with the back of her forearm. It didn’t help much, but it didn’t make it any worse.

“I’m beat,” she said, feeling like flopping over onto the court right then and there.

“You put up a good match,” Hank said, paying her a compliment. That was unusual.

“Thanks, but you kicked my ass.”

“You held your own. Whatever Tana’s doing over there, she’s doing it right. You should come work out with me more often,” he said with that same toothy smile.

“I don’t think my body can take it,” she groaned, straightening with difficulty.

“Next time, I won’t go easy on you.” Hank smacked her back good-naturedly and she nearly fell over. He chuckled and helped right her. They walked back down toward the clubhouse together. Liz’s breathing still wasn’t even by the time they got there.

“I have another student, but you really should come back and play sometime, Liz. Hard to find good opponents who aren’t instructors,” he told her.

Liz nodded. Exhaustion was already taking over. “Yeah, I’ll be around. I’m working on the paper, running the election column and following the races. I think I’ll be swamped, but let me know when you’re open and I’ll work around it.”

“Oh yeah! I read your article about Brady,” Hank said, snapping his finger like it had just come to him.

“Yeah, did you like it?” Liz asked.

“I thought it was good. I like Brady, though, man. He’s a good guy.”

“Do you uh…know him?” Even here, when she had let herself get to the point of exhaustion, she couldn’t escape him.

“Yeah, he played basketball here my junior and senior years of college. I came home to every game that I could,” Hank told her.

“Cool,” she said with a shrug.

“Next article should be about his career here playing basketball. Do you know how many points he scored or how many games he started in?” Hank asked.

Liz just smiled. “No, I don’t.”

“I can write up a profile for you for your next piece. Just quote me,” he said with that grin.

“I’m sure it’s available on the Internet.”

Hank laughed. “You’re probably right. Let me know when you’re free for another game.”

“Will do. See you around,” she said, waving as she walked out of the club.

It only took a couple minutes to get back to her house, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Brady. Even when she was playing tennis, smacking a tennis ball as hard as she possibly could, he still returned.

She turned the water on cold in the shower when she got home and washed her workout off of her skin. She didn’t normally like cold showers, but it had been so hot outside that it was the only thing she could stomach at the moment. Plus, it woke her up some.

Maybe she was being ridiculous about the whole thing. Maybe she and Brady could start whatever they were about to start and everything would be fine. If only she could stop obsessing in his absence. It had to be the reporter side of her coming out, trying to fit the facts into the puzzle. The truth was that there weren’t many details to consider, just a whole hell of a lot of hypotheticals. To move forward, she needed to push past the hypothetical and settle in on what she did know. Accept those facts and move forward.

So what did she know?

Brady wanted her. He wanted her badly enough to risk continuing to see her when it had the potential to hurt both of their careers if they got caught.

She really wanted Brady. If the fact that she couldn’t get him out of her head and she had felt like she was walking through a black-and-white movie in his absence wasn’t enough to prove that, then she didn’t know what would.

Yes, well…that was it. That was all she knew.

That was all she needed to know.

Liz stepped out of her shower, wrapped a towel around her wet body, and grabbed her phone off of the counter.

“Hello, Senator Maxwell’s office,” a woman answered.

“Yes, hello,” Liz said, trying to keep her voice strong. “I’m trying to reach the Senator.”

“Who may I say is calling?”

Liz took a deep breath. “Sandy Carmichael.”

Chapter 13
SURPRISE GETAWAY

Liz couldn’t have been on hold for more than a couple minutes, but it felt like an eternity. She thought about hanging up. Maybe he wouldn’t actually answer anyway. But inevitably she had decided against it. She had mustered up the courage to go through with it, and she wasn’t going to back out now.

She heard rustling on the other end and straightened in her seat. He couldn’t see her, but it didn’t matter.

“Ms. Carmichael, what a pleasant surprise,” Brady answered.

Liz swooned in her seat. She had already forgotten how his deep voice affected her. Even when he was talking to her as if she was a reporter and not…well, whatever she was, it was still very attractive.

“Brady,” she murmured into the phone.

“Yes, it’s great to hear from you too,” he said cheerfully. He was using his campaign voice. He cleared his throat and all but whispered into the phone, “Give me a minute.”

She heard more rustling coming from the other end and she wondered if he was switching rooms or trying to find privacy. Was this what it would always be like?

“Hey,” he said, losing the campaign-coated speech for his more personal tone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

“You didn’t want to?”

“I wasn’t expecting to. There’s a difference. I always want to hear from you,” he said smoothly.

Liz smiled despite herself. She didn’t mind being flattered. “With that attitude, how did you expect me to wait?”

“I didn’t,” he said. She wondered if he was smirking. She closed her eyes and thought about the way his eyes looked down upon her deviously. It made her swallow and cross her legs.

“I want to see you,” she breathed into the line.

“Yeah, I think you mentioned that this morning.”

“I know you said it was your terms. I know you said that it was only when you were free…” she trailed off.

“And you agreed,” he growled into the phone. “Are you backing out?”

“No,” she answered hastily. “Quite the contrary. I want you to be free now.”

She couldn’t believe she had blurted it out. It was what she was thinking, but she usually kept her thoughts reserved. Still, it wasn’t a lie. She had gone a long time without him. She knew she had work to catch up on, the paper to do research for, and a portfolio she needed to compile for her professor, but she couldn’t concentrate on any of that when he was on her mind.

“I said the things I said this morning because I’m a very busy person.”

“I know you are. I follow your campaign schedule,” she said.

He chuckled softly into the phone. “I’m sure you do.”

“Brady, it’s been two weeks. That kiss in the auditorium wasn’t enough. Not enough for me…or for you,” she stated boldly. Whatever was going on with them was something she had to push forward with head-on. If she hesitated too much, she started wondering if she was being used, and she couldn’t think about that. She was getting out of it what she could, and what she wanted was Brady.

He sighed as if he was contemplating her assessment. She didn’t know what he was thinking. Did he think she was being difficult, when she had relented so easily in the diner this morning?

“What are you doing on Sunday?” he finally asked.

“Sunday?” she said, surprised. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but Brady kept shattering every expectation she had.

“Yes.”

“Um…nothing. I don’t have any plans.”

“Good. Don’t make any.”

Liz bit her lip and felt like jumping up and down. This meant she got to see Brady. She tried not to pout at the thought of waiting three more days. At least she was getting to see him. She knew what kind of schedule he was already working, after announcing his candidacy only a couple of weeks ago. She should be glad for any time with him…even if she wanted him sooner than that.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“It’ll be a surprise. I’ll send a driver to collect you from the same diner around eight.”

“In the morning?”

“Not a morning person, are you?”

Liz was already shaking her head. “No.”

“You can nap on the drive.”

Liz heard someone call out to Brady through the phone and she froze even though she knew they couldn’t see or hear her. She felt as if their time was entirely private. They were sharing a secret that no one knew about, and in that second it brought a smile to her face.

“Yeah, give me one more minute,” Brady’s muffled voice came through the phone as he spoke to someone in the room. She heard the door click shut again and then Brady spoke. “I have to go. Sunday at eight at the diner.”

“Do I need to bring anything with me?” she asked.

“No. I prefer you in nothing.”

Liz’s entire body heated as she hung up the phone and thought about the last time he had seen her like that. She didn’t want to think about anything else until Sunday. Unfortunately, she had a mountain of work, but at least in this moment, she could daydream about her politician.

Franklin Street was dead as Liz stood in front of the diner. She yawned and tried to wake up. Early mornings were a killer, especially since she couldn’t get to sleep last night. She was too antsy about getting to see Brady. She didn’t even know where they were going, and it didn’t really matter. She just wanted to be with him.

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.