Off the Record (Record #1)(35)
Pushing those thoughts aside, she found Brady amid the crowd. More than half of his line had dissipated. They had either given up on meeting him or he had barreled through people faster than she expected. He was the perfect politician—shaking hands, taking pictures, answering questions.
Liz spoke to a girl she recognized from class. She had liked the speech and had decided she was voting for him. Liz asked her if she could quote her on that. The girl giggled, but agreed. Another student gave her a testimonial about how much he liked Brady. A third student said that while Brady was handsome, she hadn’t been sold entirely and she planned to research the other candidates more. Feeling that she had gotten the most out of the remaining students, she accepted those three as her sources and called it a day.
She walked over to where Brady was mingling with the remaining students. Leslie was among them, staring up at him with a gaga expression as he told a story. Liz wondered if she was infatuated with him like everyone else or if she was pushing for an internship with the campaign. If…when he won, it would look good on her already packed résumé.
“Ah, Ms. Dougherty,” Brady said, looking up and directly at her, “just the person I was looking for.”
Liz had enough good form not to look surprised when he interrupted himself to address her. “Senator Maxwell, always a pleasure,” she said, thinking of other pleasures they had indulged in.
“You’re here for an interview, I presume?” he asked with a smile.
“Of course. Are you ready?” she managed, keeping from darting her eyes toward Leslie with a ha-ha! expression.
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” Brady said sweetly to his crowd of worshipers.
“Senator Maxwell,” Leslie cut in before he could leave, “do you think you will have time to speak after your…interview?” she asked, cutting her eyes to Liz.
“Another time perhaps. Ms. Dougherty has already requested the remainder of my time in Chapel Hill,” he said, ending the discussion. “Right this way, Ms. Dougherty.”
Liz followed him back up the stairs, to the stage, and through the side door that led them to the back of the auditorium. She was surprised at how empty it was; it had cleared out entirely. She guessed all of the students wanted to get back to the pool as quick as possible. She heard the door click behind her, and she slowly turned to find herself completely alone with Brady.
The air between them crackled with tension.
Two weeks.
Two weeks since her hands had threaded through his hair. Two weeks since she had circled her legs around his waist. Two weeks since her moans had taken over the hotel room.
She had missed him, and it was downright painful. How had she not noticed it when he had been onstage? She had stared up into his handsome face for a whole hour, her mind hardly drifting from what he was saying. Now here, with so little space between them, all she wanted to do was reach out and touch him, make sure he was real, make sure it had all really happened.
“How come you didn’t find me sooner?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
“Didn’t know you needed me to save you,” she said.
“Well, you played along perfectly.”
“I was actually coming to find you for an interview,” Liz told him. The air seemed to be thinning the nearer he drew toward her. How was it suddenly so warm?
“Then you read my mind,” he said with a smile. It was contagious and she returned it. “What questions did you have for me?”
He was mere inches from her, and she was having a hard time remembering anything she was going to ask him. All of her carefully prepared questions flew out the window, and all she could think about was his lips on her.
“Tongue-tied?” he said, his hand moving forward and running up her skirt to her waist.
Her breathing hitched and she strained to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t let him completely distract her. She had questions. They were somewhere in her mind, and she needed to ask them. “You oppose NC Pledge for numerous reasons.”
“I have problems with some of the specifics of the legislation,” he said, circumventing her statement with the ease of a politician.
“You’re blocking the legislation from moving forward in the state legislature.”
“Was there a question in that?” he asked.
She swallowed, and tried to keep her thoughts on track. His thumb circling her hip bone wasn’t helping. Stay professional! she yelled at herself.
“Why do you feel the questions you have posed regarding NC Pledge are enough to block landmark education policy in North Carolina? And how can the people of North Carolina, specifically this district, expect you to further our interests on Capitol Hill when you aren’t even doing that here?” she asked, staring up at him with as much professional decorum as she could muster. She could see his campaign mask begin to slip on, and his eyes hardened. She had surprised him again.
“Until the legislature has agreed upon terms that I believe will actually benefit North Carolina,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect, clearly wanting her to hear his words, “rather than hinder the slow growth within our state, I will continue to fight for better terms. I’ll do the same on the Hill.” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response, the rest of his face blank. She wondered how irritated he was under that cool, collected front.
Damn. He was good.