The plates were cleared away, and the keynote speaker, Jeffrey Bakker, founder of the bipartisan organization People for a Better North Carolina, took the stage and delivered the final speech of the evening. Liz was surprised that he was such a good speaker and was able to engage the audience so easily. She wouldn’t have expected these events to be entertaining. As he spoke his final words and walked offstage, the lights dimmed slightly and the party began. This was what she had been waiting for, the part where everyone finally socialized.
Most of the room gravitated toward the dance floor as music filtered in through the speakers. She had read about the event from what little information she could glean and knew that the night began with a traditional waltz. Fifty-three years of this event and they were still doing ballroom numbers around the room.
Liz, on the other hand, veered in the direct opposite direction. No way was she dancing. She didn’t exactly have two left feet, but the last time she had willingly danced was when her mother had stuffed her into ballet lessons at the age of five. Two years of that nonsense and she had stripped quickly out of tights and grabbed a tennis racket. At least she could hit things that way.
Instead, she found the dessert table. Her favorite. She stared at the long table of desserts and zeroed in on the cheesecake. There was something about cheesecake. She couldn’t say no to it—and it was Oreo. Double trouble and totally worth it. She didn’t care if she had to spend all weekend in the Rams Head gym and on the tennis courts.
Liz took a piece and began to walk toward a group of people standing off to the side. She recognized one of the women as a press director for the governor’s campaign. Handy person to know.
As she was about to interject herself into the conversation, she felt someone tap her shoulder. She stopped with her mouth open and turned around in surprise.
“Liz Dougherty,” Brady said with a smirk, his big brown eyes staring straight through her.
Liz tried not to miss a beat, but something about him made her insides turn to mush. She hadn’t expected him to address her in public.
“You seem to be everywhere, don’t you?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
“I try,” she said, trying for nonchalance. “And you’re following in Daddy’s footsteps, Mr. Jefferson.”
“That’s Senator Jefferson to you,” he responded.
Liz laughed. “I didn’t know you were related to the Jefferson family, Senator.”
“Someone didn’t do her homework,” he said, tsking her as if she were a schoolgirl. “Whatever will we do with you?”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Liz said, playing along. Her body was humming with the playful banter.
“I’m sure we will.” The sentence hung in the air between them. Liz was holding her breath. His gaze was too intense. It was like the night back at the club when he had fixed her with that same stare.
“I read your article,” he said, ending the silence.
Liz swallowed. Great. Why was he even talking to her after reading it? She hadn’t been mean, but she hadn’t been gentle either. “I bet you loved it,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Love might not be the right word. Is there something stronger than love?”
“Hate?” she offered.
Brady chuckled and shook his head. “I particularly like the part about me being—what did you say?—power hungry with my only interests in money? How did you write that, knowing I have other interests?”
He looked at her pointedly, and she swallowed hard. He certainly had other interests…like throwing her off balance.
“I was speaking politically. Talking about work.”
“Well, are you working tonight? I don’t see your voice recorder. No notepad…”
Liz shook her head. “No, not tonight.” Well, not exactly.
“Good. Then our conversation is off the record?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She wished he hadn’t clarified, but she wasn’t going to write another article about him yet.
“Of course,” she said, holding her hands up to show him she wasn’t hiding a microphone or anything.
“Then would you like to dance?” he asked.
Liz shook her head, glad she had her cheesecake in hand. “No. Uh, no, thank you. I prefer my cheesecake to the waltz.”
“Oh, come on. Everyone likes to dance when they have a good partner, and I happen to know where you can find one.”
“Are you referring to yourself?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Only the best.”
“Sorry, I don’t dance,” Liz told him. She stuck her fork into the cheesecake to emphasize her disagreement.
He gave her a look that said he was calling bullshit on the remark and took the cheesecake from her hand. “You can have this later. Right now, we’re going to dance.” Liz glared. “Don’t look so sad about it. I promise I’ll show you a good time.” The comment was laced with seduction.
He grasped her elbow softly in his hand and veered toward the dance floor. He placed her delicious-looking Oreo cheesecake on a table as they passed by.
“Why can’t you find someone else?” she asked. She didn’t really want him to do that.
“Are there other people in the room?” He placed his hand on her waist and pulled her close. Her breath left her in a whoosh with their bodies so close together, her left hand moving up to his shoulder, and their hands clasping together gently.
“How are the airplanes treating you today?” she managed to ask.
“Much better now that I have you in my arms.”
Liz didn’t get the chance to comment as the next song began and Brady swept her away into the crowd. She knew she was a bad dancer, but he was amazing. Was there anything he wasn’t good at?
His hand held her easily in place and she dared a glance up into his eyes. They were smiling down on her, and she felt like the only person in the room under that gaze. Here she was, dancing with a sitting State Senator.
“I thought you said you didn’t dance,” he observed.
“I don’t,” she told him.
“Well, what are we doing right now then?”
“You’re currently dragging me around a dance floor. I’m not sure I’m actually participating at all,” Liz teased.
“At least you’re humoring me,” he said, pulling her against his chest.
She leaned her head into him and reminded herself to breathe. They were just dancing.