Though she had to admit she wasn’t sure what to think about the part about not being allowed to leave. Not that she’d had any plans to go anywhere else, but she did kind of want to see the island. She had never been to Hilton Head, and it seemed silly to stay at the hotel the whole time. Well, she would figure it out.

Not wanting to waste any more time considering it, she called down to the spa to schedule her appointment. By the time Brady came to see her that night, she wanted to look amazing.

Liz spent the afternoon at the beach soaking up the summer sun. It made her miss her parents’ house in Tampa, and she wished that she had taken time out of her busy schedule to see them. She still had a couple weeks left before school started. Maybe it would do her some good to go visit her family. Though she found it hard to think about leaving Brady again after what happened last time she did.

As the sun started hanging low on the horizon, Liz returned to the resort and spent her time at the spa. A few hours later, she had been massaged, pampered, waxed, had her fingernails and toes painted, and her blond hair straightened so smoothly that she was afraid to go outside. She walked back to her room feeling unbelievably relaxed.

Brady hadn’t called or texted from the private number, but she figured dinner was winding down now, so she would hear from him soon. She ordered room service for a quick meal, and then applied soft makeup. Liz dug into her suitcase and pulled out a black lace babydoll and matching thong. She had packed them last-minute, wondering whether she would ever strike up the nerve to wear them, but after her time in the spa, she couldn’t think of a better occasion.

After she was all dolled up, she wasn’t really sure what to do from there. She still hadn’t heard from Brady, and truth be told, she felt a bit ridiculous sitting around in lingerie. But it hadn’t been that long, and she could wait for him.

Liz flipped open her laptop and started surfing through her favorite newspapers. She read the headlines and hooks to see if anything caught her eye, but she was too anxious to be interested. She had an email from Professor Mires regarding her research assistant position for the fall, but even that didn’t hold the same excitement it had when she had first spoken to her professor.

A few more hours rolled by and Liz’s anxiety had morphed into full-on frustration. Where the hell was he? More than that…why hadn’t he even called her to let her know that he wasn’t going to be here until later?

She felt ridiculous waiting up like this. Here she was dressed in full lingerie, she had taken the time to get her hair and nails done, she was wearing makeup…and hell, she had heels waiting by the bedroom door. And still no Brady.

Her gentle yawns turned into full-blown yawns at about two in the morning. Her eyes were fluttering closed, and she felt herself drifting off. By three o’clock, she had almost crashed into her computer a few times, and when she actually did, that was the final straw. She couldn’t wait up any longer.

Liz pulled her babydoll over her head and threw it into a corner in anger. She was such an idiot. Why had she gone through the trouble at all of getting dressed up and then waiting for him? She yanked an oversize T-shirt over her head and went into the bathroom to remove her makeup.

By the time she had finished scrubbing her face and crawled into bed, she was wide-awake. At that moment, she hated adrenaline. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget that she had been that girl—the kind of girl to stay up all night waiting uselessly for a guy who hadn’t even bothered to call. How could he have planned this whole thing, gotten her to a freaking island, and then not called to let her know he wasn’t coming to see her?

She ground her teeth, wondering whether she could feel any more ridiculous. Then she turned the volume all the way up on her phone and stuffed it under the pillow next to her.

That made her feel more ridiculous.

Liz awoke the next morning feeling as if she hadn’t slept all night. He eyes were swollen with bags underneath, hair a rat’s nest from tossing and turning, and she had a crick in her neck.

She grabbed her phone, hoping to see something from Brady, an apology preferably, but really anything to explain why he hadn’t called or texted or anything last night. When she turned on the screen, she found what she already knew she was going to find: Brady hadn’t tried to get hold of her.

Liz knew that Brady had plans all afternoon today as well, and she wasn’t supposed to see him until after dinner with his donors. That meant he had blown an entire night together, and they had only one more left. Whatever happened had better have been important.

Changing back into a bathing suit, Liz trekked down to the pool. She grabbed a secluded spot, ordered a daiquiri, and tried to forget about last night. There was almost no use trying, but she thought it would be worth a shot.

After her third daiquiri, she wasn’t sure if she was more or less angry with Brady for standing her up last night. Seriously, how difficult was it for him to make one little phone call?

Liz had spent all of that time at the spa, and here she was adding tension to her shoulders. She knew she should just be grateful that she was at the beach, in a suite, and getting a full spa treatment, but that wasn’t the reason that she had flown down.

She wanted to see Brady. She missed him. Plus, they had a lot to talk about.

By the time the sun had moved directly overhead, Liz could feel herself beginning to burn. She hadn’t spent enough time poolside this summer, and she wasn’t going to be a lobster tonight. Granted, at this point, she didn’t even know if she would get to see Brady.

Liz returned to her room a bit tipsier than she left. She took a quick shower and changed into a baby blue backless tank top, a pair of cuffed khaki shorts, and gold sandals. She slung her purse over her head and decided that if Brady couldn’t even bother to follow his own written instructions, then why should she?

She ventured back downstairs and walked up to the concierge’s desk.

“Excuse me,” Liz said with a smile.

“Hello! How can I help you?” a perky brunette asked, leaning forward as if to be more inviting.

“I wanted to see if you had some information on places to eat in town. I’m not too picky, but I wanted something authentic.”

The woman smiled brightly and proceeded to overload Liz with choices. By the time she walked away to catch a cab into town, she had a handful of packets, a map with a dozen or more restaurants circled for her to choose from, and no better understanding of where she was going to get lunch.

She hopped into the first cab that pulled up, and was whisked away into the center of downtown Hilton Head. The island retained an old-timey feel, complete with uniform signage. It also had a certain affluent flair, with the high-class golf courses, impressive boutiques, and all of the women coated in diamonds. Hilton Head had been touted as the Hamptons of the South…and as Liz looked around, she could see why.

The cabdriver dropped her off in front of the downtown area, Coligny Plaza and Beach Market. Liz wore her dark, thick-rimmed sunglasses through the beachside shopping center. Now that she was actually out and about in Hilton Head, she was feeling more and more self-conscious. She didn’t think anyone would recognize her, but she didn’t have a legitimate story if anyone did.

Maybe she should have listened to Brady to begin with. Too late now.

Liz wandered around the shops until she found a restaurant that was located on her map. She was too hungry to search out any of the others.

She ate her meal alone and tried to remember why she had left the resort at all. Well, she knew. She was pissed at Brady. Pissed that he would stand her up. Pissed that he hadn’t called. Pissed that he loved her and couldn’t…wouldn’t act on it.

She shook her head, tossed the remainder of the meal, and turned to walk out of the restaurant with the intention of spending the rest of the afternoon wandering the shops before heading back to the hotel. Then she heard a voice that was completely recognizable, even though she couldn’t see the person who was speaking.

Clay Maxwell.

Liz froze in her tracks just outside of the restaurant, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as she tried to figure out where the voice was coming from. She stuffed her glasses back on her face and swallowed hard. She absolutely could not be seen by anyone, especially not Clay. If Clay found out that she was here, she was sure he would start putting the pieces together. After all, why else would she always turn up everywhere Brady happened to be?

Liz was clearly too young to be a big donor, unless she had a trust, and she didn’t act as though she did. And people tended to jump to conclusions. Liz would have if she had been reporting, and then she would have dug until she found her evidence. Her gut instincts were normally right.

Like the one telling her to run, run far away at that moment.

The voices stopped, and Liz, thinking she was finally in the clear, turned the corner toward the shops. Her stomach dropped when she saw Clay standing directly in front of her.

A dimpled smirk crossed his face when he noticed her, and the only thing Liz could do in that moment was shake her head and smile.

“Clay Maxwell!” she cried. “I did not expect to find you here.”

Clay’s grin grew when she acknowledged him, and he pulled away from the woman he was standing with. He was in short khaki shorts, a blue Brooks Brothers polo, and boat shoes. His Ray-Bans hung from his neck by a pair of Croakies, making him look unbelievably preppy.

“Liz,” he said, obviously trying to hide his own surprise. “It’s great to see you.”

“You know, for a guy who begs a girl for her number, you really should have considered using it,” Liz scolded.

Shit! Where had that come from? she wondered. She just needed to play a part and then leave. She couldn’t have Clay telling Brady he had seen her. That would be the end of the world.

Clay chuckled. The girl he was with raised her eyebrows at the comment. She was pretty, by all means gorgeous, but she clearly had a stick up her ass. If she could look any more snobby in her designer sundress, Chanel earrings, and Tiffany necklace, Liz would have been very surprised.

“Good to see you, too, Liz. Let me introduce you to my girlfriend, Andrea,” he said, drawling out her name and pronouncing it Ahn-dreya.

Girlfriend. Liz came up short at that word. The man who had begged her to go home with him and practically shoved his phone down her throat to get her number…had a girlfriend. That was rich…

“So nice to meet you,” Liz said, wishing that she didn’t feel like such an idiot.

“Clay, who is this?” Andrea asked. She turned to him pointedly.

“This is my friend Liz. We met on the Fourth of July at Brady’s rally.”

“Borrring,” Andrea said, rolling her eyes.

“She’s a big supporter of Brady. I think I’ve convinced her to run against him,” Clay said.

“Ugh…whatever,” Andrea said. “I’m going to get a drink. God knows I need one. Don’t fuck her, okay?” She glared at him and stomped away.

Liz’s eyes bulged as she stared back and forth between the couple. What had just happened?

Clay shrugged as if his girlfriend hadn’t just told him not to sleep with someone else in public…right in front of Liz. “Sorry about that.”

“You have a girlfriend,” she observed lamely.

“Most of the time,” he said nonchalantly. “And you have a boyfriend, I assume.”

“I don’t actually,” Liz said.

“Oh, come on, no single girl refuses that vehemently unless they’re dating someone.”

“Why are we having this conversation?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Because now I’m confused. You don’t have a boyfriend and you didn’t go home with me even though you wanted to fuck me,” Clay said, as if this were the most confusing thing he’d had to deal with in a while.

Liz shook her head. Arrogant son of a bitch. She couldn’t stop thinking that when she was around him.