That got Chris’s attention. “You’re a Morehead scholar?” he asked, sounding very impressed. “Isn’t that the highest merit scholarship in the school?”
Liz shrugged, her cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It is.”
“Damn,” he said, appraising her.
“That’s impressive,” Brady said softly.
“Thanks,” she said, embarrassed. She turned away from his heated look and let them get back to their game. She hadn’t thought her answers would distract them so much, but she couldn’t deny that she liked how interested Brady had been in her background.
The guys played a couple games together, and Liz felt herself dozing off again. She rarely got much sleep when she was with Brady, but it tended to be for other reasons entirely.
“Hey, are you falling asleep?” Brady asked, nudging her lightly.
“Oh, no,” she said, jumping up. “I’m not.”
“You guys need to come up to New York sometime,” Chris said. “My place there is smaller than this and I pay ten times as much on it, but you can’t beat the location in Manhattan.”
Liz looked up at Brady as he turned to look at her. She could read his expression. Chris clearly knew that they weren’t out in public. Brady wouldn’t have brought them here otherwise.
“What are you doing in North Carolina, anyway?” she asked, changing the subject so Brady didn’t have to respond. Brady kissed her lips once before returning to his game. She wondered if that was her thank you.
“Oh, I’m here for Brady’s f**king gala event or whatever it is this weekend,” Chris told her.
“Oh, really? I didn’t know you would be there,” Liz said. That was promising. At least she would know one other person besides Brady.
“Yeah. Are you going?”
She looked up at Brady expectantly. “Yeah, I got her a ticket,” he said.
“You two are going together?” Chris asked, mashing one of the buttons repeatedly with his thumb.
Brady sighed and looked down at her. She could tell he wasn’t happy with that question. She knew they couldn’t go together. She really, really wanted to go with him, but he wasn’t going to let that happen…not right before the primary. This was what she had signed up for, but she couldn’t help silently pleading with him to change his mind.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea with the election coming up,” Brady said.
Chris looked as if he wanted to say more about it, but he didn’t. And that closed it. “You know, you could always go with me.”
“What?” Brady asked before Liz could speak.
“Hear me out. I don’t have a date, and she doesn’t have a date. It would be better for both of us if we went together. Then no weird old ladies will try to hand me off to their sons, and, yes, that has happened before,” Chris told them.
“I don’t know,” Liz said, trying to read Brady’s reaction.
“It’s really a flawless plan,” Chris said.
“What do you think?” Liz asked Brady.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear so that Chris couldn’t hear. “I don’t want anyone else even near you, but compared to the alternative, Chris is tolerable. As long as you know, baby, you’re going home with me.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” she whispered back.
Brady smiled and nodded at Chris. “I think that will work better than you both showing up alone. I can send you the details for the weekend.”
“Sounds good,” Chris said, stretching exaggeratedly. “I think I’m beat. I’m going to go to bed. You guys feel free to stay. I have a guest room down that hallway.” He pointed off in the opposite direction of where he was walking. “Really nice meeting you, Liz.”
“Nice meeting you, too.”
Chris walked up the stairs to the second floor and out of sight. Brady planted his lips on hers, cradled her body against his, picked her up, and carried her into the guest bedroom.
“Look,” Brady said, kicking the door closed with his foot and setting her down, “the surprise comes with a bed.”
Chapter 21
WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR
Liz walked forward into the ballroom that housed Brady’s big gala event. Chris was standing at her side, looking dashing out of his khakis and into a tux. His longer light brown hair was trimmed, and he had shaved. He handed off the pair of tickets Brady had left with them, and they glided through the doors.
The room was a surprising display. Liz had expected the typical red-white-and-blue decor that she had associated with political campaigns, but it seemed that had been replaced with actual evening decorations in black, white, and gold. High tables, covered in alternating silky tablecloths, were scattered around the massive ballroom, where guests mingled with drinks in hand. The waitstaff wandered the premises in tailored tuxedos and shimmery black dresses, carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes on gold platters.
A sizable number of influential members of North Carolina society were present, along with a few notable politicians, celebrities, and business executives from outside the state whom Liz recognized. Everyone was dressed to the nines and had probably paid a pretty penny in donations to be at this fund-raising event.
Liz took a deep breath and tried not to think about it. Brady wanted her here tonight even though the party was only supposed to be for donors, friends, and family. She felt extremely on edge in the ballroom surrounded by all of these people, knowing she was essentially Brady’s mistress.
No, he wasn’t married. No, he wasn’t dating anyone. No, she wasn’t technically a mistress. But she was a secret and that was enough.
After the time they had spent with Chris out in the open, she had started feeling antsy. She hadn’t seen Brady since that night, but she felt like the paradigm of their relationship had forever changed now that someone knew what they were doing. If Chris knew, why couldn’t Victoria know? Why couldn’t his family know? Why couldn’t the whole campaign know?
She didn’t like to think about it. She knew it would upset him if she mentioned it, but they were so good together. Would it really be the end of the world if other people knew what they were doing? Would it really jeopardize the campaign and her career? She knew that they had started out a secret for that very reason, but she hadn’t ever expected to want to change that. Now that she did…she couldn’t help wondering if they had just blown it out of proportion to begin with.