Plus she was concerned about keeping up with her writing. She had just turned in her follow-up piece to the online paper, and after glowing compliments from Justin, she had started posting more articles to his blog.

In fact, she had begun spending a lot of her free time on the computer, interacting with people who were now following what she considered her blog. Even if it was about YouTube movie ratings and other popular culture–related themes, she was the one writing the articles, and she liked talking to the people who enjoyed her pieces. It was a different level of personal involvement than she had ever had in journalism.

She was scrolling through the comments on the website as Brady practiced his speech for tomorrow. She had heard him reciting it to himself in the mirror the past couple of days. Actually, she could probably recite chunks of it back to him at this point.

“What do you think of that line?” Brady asked suddenly.

“Hmm?” Liz looked up from her computer. “Which one?”

“This one,” he said. “ ‘I personally believe that working for the people in Congress has been the most memorable experience of my life.’ ” He dropped the paper on the table. “Do you think that sounds too high school yearbook?”

Liz laughed. “No. I think that sounds fine as long as you deliver it with your normal charisma. But if you’re asking my opinion, I think the stuff about Chris and staying to work in North Carolina is kind of repetitive, especially from last term.”

“Yeah? I thought the consistency worked well.”

She shut her laptop and snatched the speech from the coffee table. She skimmed the section she was talking about before continuing. “Okay. I see what you mean—it does have the consistency factor—but tomorrow is going to be people who know you and probably primarily people who have seen your stuff from two years ago. They support you no matter what, but you want to fire them up, right?”

A smile lit up Brady’s face when she glanced up at him. “Right.”

“What?” she asked.

“Just keep going,” he encouraged.

“So, I think you’re missing that. You talk about why you decided to work here and why the state is important to you, and used a personal example to drive it home. It’s a clever trick to get people to empathize with you.”

“I didn’t realize you had dissected my speeches so completely.” Brady walked around the table and took the seat next to her. He crossed one leg over the other and draped an arm across the back. He managed to look completely engrossed in what she was saying and totally laid-back. She swore they taught politicians how to do this.

“I’ve seen all of your speeches. When I did research on you two summers ago, I watched the ones from your State Senate races. Your father basically invented the formula. It works. Very effective. But I think you’re missing your pull here. You’re not convincing these people to vote for you. They already will. You’re convincing them to essentially work for you, whether through time or money.”

“All right. I see your point. What would you suggest?” he asked, leaning forward and brushing a loose lock of hair from her face. He ran his hand down her jawline and stared at her so intensely that she found it hard to get out her next comment.

She was actually directing one of his speeches. A speech that he’d had a professional speechwriter work on for him. Someone who knew him and had likely been on staff for years. Oh, well, she couldn’t back down now.

“I’d focus on what keeps people motivated, not what motivated you to begin with. What continues to keep you motivated? Your work in the education committee, fulfilling your commitment to the Research Triangle, bringing back money to support education. I’d focus on that from a fulfillment aspect, not an issue aspect, and then bring it home with a personal example . . . perhaps a political colloquium you attended while in office.” She laughed softly, though she thought it might be a good idea, since the colloquium had been a way to show his dedication to the people and the university system that was so important to his district. “There are other examples that you could use; that was just my suggestion.”

“You know, you’re pretty brilliant, baby.” He dropped his mouth onto hers and she forgot everything they had been talking about. They moved in perfect unison, his hands tangling in her hair, their tongues volleying for position. Everything slowed to that moment and she reveled in the feel of her handsome, successful boyfriend finding her to be the brilliant one.

They arrived in a town car to the side entrance of the rally point. The event wasn’t nearly as big as the Fourth of July event she had attended two summers ago, but it still boasted a relatively large stage, with a crowd pressing in. Liz could see the flashes of the press anxious to nab a picture of Brady . . . maybe even to a get a picture of her.

Their relationship was hardly a secret, but they had an unwritten rule to avoid press as much as they could. On the campaign trail, there would be no avoiding them. The worst of their relationship woes had passed, but they were still a story, especially now that Brady was running for reelection. D.C. was the Hollywood of politics, and Brady was their fresh young star.

Liz had already read articles recently about their moving in together. They hadn’t been secretive about that, but still, it was strange to see it online. She had wanted to claw her eyes out when she read the comments. Slut, whore, gold digger, and home wrecker were the nicest things she was called. Apparently they were also rushing into things because she was pregnant, and she and Brady were going to have a shotgun wedding in a few weeks to try to cover it up. Not to mention Brady felt bad for her and was using their relationship to hide his other rampant affairs. The Internet was a really pleasant place.

She had confessed to Brady about it when he found her upset over the comments one afternoon.

“You cannot let people make you feel like this. Are any of those things true?” he had asked.

“No,” she had whispered.

“Then don’t even bother yourself with them. There is a certain level of discretion you have to learn. When you’re in the public eye, you have to actively choose to ignore and avoid things like this. Nothing good comes from it.”

So she had stopped looking. She didn’t think that she was strong enough to build up a complete resistance to it, but it was a start. Her journalism background made her naturally curious, which wasn’t helpful in this situation.