Her hands reached behind her and undid the hook and eye that released her breasts from the bra. She tossed it to the ground behind her at Brady’s feet and then slowly turned back to face him. He had moved forward another few feet. This time his expression didn’t just hold desire; it was outright need. He looked ready to pounce on her, but she held her hand up.

“Uh-uh. Look. No touch,” she cooed.

His breathing was increasingly ragged as she continued to boss him around. She plucked the side of her thong like a guitar string. His hands twitched in his pockets as if he wanted to be the one doing that. Then she dragged the underwear down her thighs to the floor. She was left before him in nothing but her black heels.

“What do you think?” she asked, twirling.

“I think that you’ve teased long enough.”

“Ah-ah!” she said, stepping out of his grasp. “We have an important dinner to attend. I need to get dressed.”

“You make this impossible.”

Liz giggled and walked over to her dress. She pulled it off the hanger and began unzipping the back. She felt Brady’s hands slide around her. “I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I love you too.”

“Get dressed and we’ll fix this problem when we get home.” His hand slid between her bare legs and she shook all over. Brady sighed. “All right. Let me just text Chelsea and tell her we’re going to be late.”

Liz nodded and walked back into the closet to change. She pulled the dress on and started fixing her hair in the mirror, when he returned.

“Take that off,” he commanded.

“What?”

“Off. Now.”

“What about dinner?”

“Dinner is canceled. Chelsea asked to reschedule, because she’s not feeling well. She asked if we could just talk at the Jefferson-Jackson gala next weekend.”

“Is that already coming up?” she asked.

“Later than last year,” he said with a shrug. “Now back to business at hand. That dress belongs on the floor.”

Chapter 21

JEFFERSON-JACKSON GALA

Three weeks later, Liz stepped out of Brady’s limo in a floor-length teal off-the-shoulder gown. She and Victoria had gone shopping earlier that week for the dress, and the silky material fit like a glove. Her hair was swept into an elaborate updo, with a braided section pulled back into an intricate bun. She brushed her bangs to the side, to conform to the natural wave of her hair, which she tucked loosely behind her ear. She wore dangly diamond earrings and a thin diamond necklace that brushed her collarbones.

She remembered how two years ago she had shown up in a simple black knee-length gown. She had caught Brady’s eye then, and now she was on his arm. Not for the first or last time, she felt as though she were living a dream.

Brady stepped out behind her in a tailored black tuxedo. He was all sharp lines and perfectly angular features. His brown eyes were intense and formidable, but his campaign mask slid into place just as quickly. The charm returned with more confidence than most people carried in a lifetime. He offered her his arm, and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.

They walked gallantly into the event. The last time she had attended the Jefferson-Jackson Gala was the first time she and Brady had slept together. Their chemistry had been electric, and after only one dance, she hadn’t ever envisioned herself saying no to him. Of course she had, and they had been separated for a time, but that was their past. The five months prior had been some of the best moments of her life, and all she saw when she looked at Brady was her future.

They drew eyes around the room at their entrance. Some still whispered about the way they had gotten together and vague details that Erin had given the papers, which had died away with time. Some looked on with judgment in their eyes. But others did seem to be coming around to the fact that they were always together. The sooner they looked less like a spectacle and more like a couple the better.

“This way,” Brady said.

He guided her over to a front-row table that was already full. Each table sat ten people and there were at least fifty tables throughout the massive room decorated in the classic red, white, and blue.

Brady introduced her to the people seated at her table. Three of the men had worked with Brady when he had been a State Senator and each of them were accompanied by their wife. The only other person at their table was a small woman and her date.

“Liz, may I introduce you to Chelsea Young, lead lobbyist at EMi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Liz said, sticking out her hand. Chelsea was shorter than Liz by nearly a handbreadth, with almond-shaped brown eyes and blond highlighted shoulder-length hair. She wore a lavender hi-lo spaghetti-strap dress and pale pink lipstick.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Chelsea said. “And this is my date, Ben.”

They all shook hands again before taking a seat with Liz to Brady’s right and Chelsea to his left.

The room quieted as a figure walked out onstage—Brady’s father. He had been the introductory speaker two years ago when she had been here.

Brady’s father took the microphone in his hand and smiled that Maxwell politician smile. “Hello and welcome to the fifty-fifth annual Jefferson-Jackson gala.” Everyone applauded and Jeff waited for the cheers to die down before continuing.

“It’s always a pleasure to stand before you at this annual bipartisan event that brings us together as a reminder of the mutual goals we are all looking toward—bettering this great nation. Two years ago I stood before you as your opening speaker, and the Jefferson-Jackson committee has once again honored me by asking me to speak before our esteemed keynote speaker.”

Liz saw Chelsea lean into Brady and whisper, “Your father seems to get better and better at this every year.”

Brady smiled politely and nodded. “All the practice.”

“Are we going to be able to have a word after dinner?” she asked.

“As promised,” he agreed.

“Perfect.” Chelsea retreated from Brady and crossed her hands over each other in her lap.

With the hustle and bustle of the last three weeks on the campaign trail, Liz had forgotten about the dinner meeting with Chelsea that had been canceled. She had been relieved at the time that she got to continue with her little striptease, but was back to being curious about the lobbyist’s role in the political side of the campaign.