Off the Record (Record #1)(85)
Author: K.A. Linde

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.