“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?”