“Sure,” she said instead. “I’d love to join you for pie.”

Chapter Three

Olivia rubbed her hands together as she tried to figure out what to wear to her date with a senator. It had been a while since she’d had some fun, relaxed, no-strings sex, and she deserved this. She’d had a stressful-as-hell few months, with no end in sight. Maybe a fun night with the hot senator was exactly what she needed to give herself a little stress relief.

She had no illusions this would be any more than one night—all she wanted from tonight was a fun romp with someone she found very attractive, and she was certain that’s all Max Powell wanted out of her, too. Though she had to give it to him; cake delivery was the best booty call invitation she’d ever received.

She’d given up on real relationships with men a while ago, anyway. Men never really liked her for her, they never made her feel wanted or cared about, and she decided a few years ago that she’d had enough. She’d had casual things with guys since then from time to time, but she’d thrown all of her energy into her career. Which was where it was going to stay.

They were going to some place called Pie ‘n Burger, which seemed like a glorified diner—her favorite type of place—though that meant she probably shouldn’t wear her favorite heels. She reached for that one pair of jeans that made her butt look fantastic and her favorite red blouse, with one fewer button fastened than usual. She’d noticed Max’s quick glimpse toward her cleavage at the bar. Might as well give him a taste of what he was looking for.

When she walked into the restaurant, she looked around for him. The place was bustling and crowded, but she saw him immediately.

“Olivia!”

He came over to her with that big smile on his face. It was far too charming. Even when she’d made fun of him to his face at the bar, that smile had told her he was in on the joke.

“Hi.” She smiled back at him. She couldn’t help it.

He had his baseball cap from the bar on, and glasses this time. He looked like an off-duty college professor. She noticed for the first time that when he smiled at her, he had a tiny dimple in his chin. Damn it. How was it possible he was even more attractive tonight?

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

He didn’t pull her into a hug, which she’d sort of expected him to, but he did put his hand on her arm and stand very close to her while they waited for their table.

She looked up at him and kept her voice low.

“I have to ask: are the baseball cap and glasses your disguise so you can go out in public without being recognized, like Superman?”

Max grinned at her and moved his hand up and down her arm in a way she could feel all the way to her toes.

“Try them and see,” he said.

She reached up with both hands and slid his glasses off, and put them on her own face. She could see perfectly.

He laughed and took them back. The way he slowly pulled them off her made her shiver.

“They look good on you,” he said. “The glasses are an extra precaution, but the amazing thing is that I manage to hide in plain sight everywhere in L.A. I don’t know if it’s just that there are so many people in here who are far more well-known than I am, or that I’m unrecognizable outside of my suit and tie and with my hair all . . .”

“Ken doll–like?” she helpfully supplied.

He sighed and shook his head, but with laughter in his eyes. His lips were full and looked soft, yet firm. How had she not noticed that before?

“Unfortunately, yes, Ken doll–like was exactly what I meant. It’s usually much less tamed when I’m off duty.” He laughed. “Maybe it’s just that I look like Generic White Man Number Five, so I seem familiar to everyone, but not enough so they actually wonder who I am. Sometimes people figure it out after a while, but the baseball hat and/or the glasses help.”

Olivia glanced at the hat and shook her head.

“I’m evidence that the hat works—I had no idea who you were when we met at the bar.”

Had he known that already? She wasn’t sure.

“I wondered about that,” he said. “I thought you didn’t know, at least at the beginning, but there were a few times you sort of looked at me like you were trying to place me.” He laughed. “I’m sorry, is it weird that I remember that?”

Yeah, it was weird, but in a good way. She liked that he’d paid such close attention to her.

“I was trying to place you, but I just assumed you were an actor,” she said. “I’m not exactly saying I thought you were Generic White Man Number Five, but . . .”

“But you’re not not saying that, are you?”

She just grinned at him, and he laughed again.

The host led them to their table, and Max slid his hand from her arm to the small of her back as they walked together. She could feel the warmth of his firm hand through her blouse. Suddenly, she was very glad she was here tonight.

“When did you realize I wasn’t an actor?” he asked when they sat down. “Was it at the luncheon yesterday?”

She shook her head.

“No, before that. I got to my room and turned on the TV and . . .”

“And saw my press conference?”

He rested his hand on the table, right near hers. It was warm, strong, and browned by the sun.

“Yes, exactly. Did you watch yourself, too? Isn’t that a little . . .”

“Embarrassing? Uncomfortable? Stressful?”

She let herself grin at him.

“I was going to say ‘masturbatory,’ but those words work as well.”

He laughed out loud.

“Okay, yes, that works, too.” His cheeks got slightly pink. It was strangely . . . cute? “And yeah, it’s that and all of the other things. I’ve more or less gotten used to watching myself, even though I hate it—it’s basically trial by fire when you run for office, because your staff makes you watch yourself, and then they criticize everything you do to make you ultra-aware of your most annoying habits. But I don’t do it by choice.”

He pushed his sleeves up. She tried not to stare at his forearms.

Tried and failed.

“So that’s how you found out who I was,” he said. “I’d wondered if it wasn’t until you saw me walk up to the podium yesterday afternoon that it clicked.”

She shook her head.

“No, but I did wonder if you’d remember me. I was surprised that you did.”

He looked at her, and a slow smile dawned over his face.

“Olivia, I promise, you’re unforgettable.”

A warm glow went through her. She knew this was just his politician charm offensive, but hell if it wasn’t working on her.

“Now.” He opened his menu. “We should figure out what we’re going to order before the waitress comes around again.”

She looked at the top of the menu.

“Well, I assumed we would get . . . pie and burgers. Am I correct there?”

Now he rolled his eyes at her.

“Yes, thank you, smart-ass, you are correct there, but the question is what kind of pie? Just a warning: the burgers are good, but the fries need some work. The pies, on the other hand, are great.”