Chapters (34)
- Copyright Page
- About the Author
- Acclaim for Jasmine Guillory and her delightful rom-coms:
- By Jasmine Guillory
- About the Book
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Fall in love with The Wedding Date
- Read the Reese Witherspoon Book Club pick, The Proposal
- You’re invited to join The Wedding Party
- Celebrate a Royal Holiday
- FIND YOUR HEART’S DESIRE …
“Okay, yes, that’s the right address. I still only half know it.” She shook her head at herself. “I lived in the same place the entire time I was in New York, so I almost gave you an address that was a few days’ drive away.”
He smiled at her and pulled out of the parking lot.
“No problem, this is probably a good time of night to start a cross-country drive anyway. No traffic getting out of L.A., so we could probably get to Colorado by morning.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Are you sure about that? How fast do you drive, anyway?”
He threw her a grin.
“Don’t you worry. You’re very safe with me.”
She bit her lip as she glanced sideways at him—that arrogant grin was far too sexy for his own good. Hell, Max was far too sexy for his own good. She’d expected to flirt with him a lot tonight, but she hadn’t expected to talk to him, with him, that much. He looked right at her when she was talking like she was the only person in the world, and that he was fascinated by what she was saying. And then he asked follow-up questions that made it clear he’d been paying attention! Which in turn made her want to rip his clothes off right there in the restaurant.
That whole focused-attention thing was a politician trick; she knew that. He had some specific professional skills that also happened to be exactly the right way to get into a woman’s pants, and he was using that skill for all it was worth.
Well, it was working.
He took his baseball cap off and tossed it in the back seat, and ran his fingers through his hair. She shook her head. She’d been right—perfect tousled waves, even after being under a baseball cap all night.
“Do you like being a senator?” she asked him. “What with the different schedule and the security concerns and the travel and everything else.”
Why had she asked him that? Probably because his charm offensive had gotten to her enough that she really wanted to know what he would say.
“That’s a hard question to answer,” he said after a few moments. “Am I glad I ran and won? Absolutely yes. Is it hard as hell? Harder and more frustrating than I ever imagined it would be. But I think I’m making a difference, which has been my ultimate goal from the beginning. I think—I hope—I’m helping to move the country forward, helping to improve people’s lives, here in California and across the country. And I care more about doing a good job than I’ve ever cared about anything. So … I don’t quite know if I can say I like my job, exactly; at least, not all of the parts of it. But I’m really honored to be there.”