On the Record (Record #2)(89)

“I only ever tried to reach him on the campaign line, and unless you think it’s a good idea to do that now, perhaps you should give me his personal,” she snapped. Well, besides the time she had used his personal line last year, but she had deleted that number and it did nothing to bring that up with Clay right now.

“You called him on the campaign line?” Clay asked, shaking his head. “For being smart, you two are f**king idiots.”

“Just get moving. I’ll figure it out myself,” she said, turning to face the window again.

A million scenarios ran through her mind on the drive back to her house. How the hell was she going to get hold of Brady? Her earlier tactic had always been to call the office, say she was Sandy Carmichael, and poof! Brady answered the phone. Well, she couldn’t call as Sandy now. And she doubted they would be taking any calls, especially not from reporters. She could make shit up about knowing who Sandy Carmichael was, but Liz was sure that would only get her as far as Heather. She didn’t trust Heather to get her through to Brady. She could have called Savannah, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for her friend to know that she had been with her brother, and with Clay not cooperating, she really didn’t have another choice.

Liz glanced down at the compartment that held Clay’s phone. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to get it out of there. But if there was another alternative, she wasn’t seeing one.

Clay shifted gears as he veered toward her house. Liz had to make up her mind. The worst thing that could happen was that he would notice her reaching for it. She could live with that.

She had been staring out the window most of the drive, and she slowly turned her body to face Clay. “Hey,” she whispered softly.

“Oh, are we talking again?” he asked.

“No need to be rude,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forearm on the center compartment. Most of her body covered the compartment so that when he was looking at the road, she was pretty sure the only thing he saw in his periphery were her br**sts spilling out of her tiny dress. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I can keep driving if this includes road head.”

Liz laughed melodically. Clay would always be Clay. She just needed to keep him entertained, keep him from seeing what she was planning.

“I don’t think so,” Liz said, pressing the button on the side of the compartment softly. “But I was kind of a bitch when I said that stuff about you and Brady.”

His eyes shifted to hers and she stopped moving. “I’m still not going to take you to see him, Liz.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Road head might convince me,” he said, his eyes darting back to the road.

Liz shook her head as she slowly, almost painfully slowly, began to slide back the edge of the compartment. “You think I’m going to suck your dick and then go see Brady?”

“At least I’d get off.”

Yeah, he deserved this.

The hole in the compartment was just wide enough to stick her hand in. She licked her lips and tried to take even breaths. They were so close to her house, and she needed to time this just right.

They stopped at a red light and Liz for sure thought she was going to start sweating when he turned to look at her. She held his gaze perfectly, though, not wavering once. If she did, she was sure that he was going to notice that something was amiss . . . like the fact that she was leaning into him and the compartment containing his phone was open.

“So what do you say?” Clay asked with that same dimpled smirk.

“I still think no,” Liz responded.

The light changed and they were off again. Liz breathed a soft sigh of relief when he had to look where he was going again. Her fingers slowly inched into the compartment, then her palm, and then her hand all the way to the wrist.

“Your loss.”

“What, like giving you head is a privilege?” she managed to ask with a disbelieving laugh.

“It is.”

Liz scoffed. “Men. Always thinking with the wrong head.”

Her fingers brushed against his phone and she slowly lifted the device into her hand. Now to get it out of there.

“As if you weren’t thinking about my dick when you let me take you back to my place.”

When Clay turned his head at a stop sign to check for traffic, Liz lifted the phone out of the compartment and with a gulp pushed it down under her leg. She pressed her finger on the button to the compartment, gingerly clicked it back into place, and then righted herself.

“That was then and this is now,” Liz said with an uneasy shrug.

Holy shit! She had his phone. She couldn’t believe it. Her stomach was in knots with anticipation and worry about the last couple minutes of the drive.

“Women. So fickle,” he grumbled. “Where am I taking you anyway?”

Liz gave Clay directions for the last few turns, and then he pulled the Porsche up in front of her house. She saw Victoria’s and Daniel’s cars in the driveway. If they weren’t already in a sex coma, she was sure they were going to have a million questions. But first she needed to get the f**k out of Clay’s car.

“Thanks for driving me,” Liz told him before popping the door open and sliding the phone into her hand.

“I couldn’t let you try to walk back.”

“I thought you might let me.”