A number of heads turned to face her as she approached. She felt heat rise on the back of her neck.

“May we help you?” a short, stocky guy in a charcoal suit jacket asked her. He was more than pudgy, with caterpillar eyebrows and beady eyes that swept her body. He was like Trent, but with the authority and self-importance of a VIP.

“I was sent over here by a waiter,” she said. She held her whiskey sour up for their inspection.

“Did someone order a drink?” the guy asked, looking around the table with a knowing glint in his brown eyes. “Anybody?”

Two women in the corner buried their heads in their hands. The blonde looked amused, but said nothing. Now Liz was getting pissed off. Was this all a bad joke? Pick on a girl on the main floor…choose a likely victim? Was she being used for their amusement? She pursed her lips, feeling the edges pull down into a frown.

“Someone up here bought me a drink,” she said frostily. “I doubt it was you. So, if you could point me to the individual who has some semblance of class, I’ll be happy to get out of your way.”

The man glared daggers at her. He didn’t seem the type to approve of a woman with a mouth, and she couldn’t seem to close hers when she got angry. Controlling her temper had never been one of her strong suits. He managed to stutter out a laugh before responding, “We have a feisty one here.”

Liz rolled her eyes. She really didn’t have the patience for this. “Fine. I’ll take my drink and go then.”

“Hold on a second, hon,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her arm.

Liz gave him a pointed look and he hastily withdrew his hand.

“It’s all fun and games. No need to get so irritated,” he grumbled.

Liz shrugged. If he wasn’t being helpful, then she didn’t feel the need to be polite.

“Well, you’re no fun. He’s over there. Had to take a phone call,” he said, pointing at a man leaning against the railing, partially obscured by a crowd of women.

“Thanks,” she said, walking away as fast as could. She heard him grumble something under his breath, but she ignored him.

Liz reached the wall and was able to get a look at the guy talking on his smartphone.

Her heart sank along with her stomach.

Brady Maxwell III.

A sitting State Senator had bought her a drink. This was not real life. This didn’t happen to her. Hadn’t she just insulted him in front of a roomful of people? No, she had done her job. He had a pretty face, body, smile…okay, he was flat-out gorgeous, but it didn’t mean she would stop doing her job.

Was she even allowed to be here? She was going home to write an article about him, and it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine either. She couldn’t be seen with him. She looked down at her drink and eeped! She nearly dropped it onto the carpeted floor. She had accepted a drink from a man she was about to write a scathing article about. Was she insane?

“Sorry, Jerry, give me one second,” Brady said into the phone.

He turned to look at her and she froze. Her insides felt like Jell-O, or that wobbly feeling after getting out of the ocean after being tossed around by the waves. Her head was hazy, like a morning fog had taken up residence where her wit normally resided.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Brady demanded, staring at her intensely.

Liz looked away and then back up at him. Standing here right now was a bad idea. Maybe she should just head out after all. She wanted to know why he had bought her a drink…and he was so handsome, but she knew this had bad news written all over it. Still, she felt rooted to the spot.

She watched him finish his phone call and memorized every inch of his face in those couple minutes. Where he had been freshly shaven and clean cut early this afternoon, a five-o’clock shadow was growing in along his jawline. She could see that he liked to lick his perfect lips while he was talking, and they were slightly chapped due to the habit. He talked with his hands more when he was making a point, and she really liked those hands. She bet he had a firm handshake…a firm grasp. When he smiled, he got little creases around his eyes, making them light up with emotion, and the most adorable dimples formed.

Liz swallowed hard, trying to push down the growing heat rising in her core and her quickening pulse. Why did she feel like this? It hadn’t been that long since she had been with somebody, and she wasn’t one to get caught up. But just the thought of those strong hands grasping her hips was sending her imagination into overdrive.

She needed to shut down. Now.

“Thanks, Jerry. Tell Francine I said hello. I’ll try to get by to play some ball with Matt this week. Yes, see you.”

Brady hung up his phone and placed it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He turned to face her, leaning against the railing, and smiled. “You showed.”

“Are you surprised?” Liz asked despite herself. He didn’t seem like a man who didn’t get what he wanted.

“You never know.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me who you were.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Then you definitely wouldn’t have showed.”

Liz arched an eyebrow. He thought he had her pegged already. Well, he was in for a real surprise. She would have come up here for sure if she had known that he was more than some random guy, even if she would have been nervous as hell. “And yet I haven’t left.”

“I told you not to,” he reminded her. “Did you like your drink?”

Liz looked down at it in her hand. Empty. When had that happened? “Yeah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with the same smile that made her weak before.

Liz didn’t know what she was doing here. Why had he bought her a drink, and why was he making pleasantries? This wasn’t going to change her article. She wasn’t sure if he really cared all that much about the college paper, but this certainly wasn’t going to help him. Either way, though, she waited to find out what he wanted. She was too intrigued.

“Can I get you another?”

“No, thank you. I know my limits. I still have to get back home tonight.” Why was she telling him this? Wouldn’t no have sufficed?

“Are you sure?” he asked, his face a mask.

Something about him made her think he was tiptoeing around her. He still had the natural self-confidence she had seen in the press conference, but still there was something else, and she didn’t know what it was. Did he want to know about the paper? Did he want to know about her article? Something didn’t add up.

“Did you need something?” she asked, straightening her blazer.

“Need something?” he asked quizzically. His brows knit together. “Why would I need something?”

“I just thought…” She trailed off, embarrassed. “Just the paper…”

“Oh, no,” he said. His eyes seemed to bore into her, searching her. She wished she knew what he was thinking or where this was going.

“Do you enjoy flying?” he asked abruptly.

“What?”

She was taken off guard. Did he want to take her flying? That was ludicrous.

“Flying, like in airplanes,” he added.

“I don’t understand.”

“I never did. My ears popped, my parents argued, I never got a window seat, the lines were too long, and it always happened when I wanted to stay home.”

Why was he telling her this? He didn’t even know her name.

“I’d have panic attacks before boarding,” he informed her. “Sometimes my parents would give me medicine to knock me out so I wouldn’t hyperventilate.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sure how to respond.

“I grew out of it, of course. I had to, especially if I wanted to be a politician like my father, but I never forgot that feeling. My fingers and toes would get warm and tingle. I’d find it hard to swallow. My stomach would be racked with nerves. I couldn’t focus properly on what was at hand. I couldn’t keep my breathing even, and I also couldn’t seem to suck in enough air. It was one of the most frustrating experiences of my life.”