She grinned.

“I know you think that’s a product of your job, and I’m sure it partly is, but I’m here to tell you it’s also a product of your age. My twenties were exciting in New York, too, but then I reached that age where I got horrified when someone invited me to something that didn’t even start until nine p.m.”

Did that make her sound uncool? Oh well, if it did, this man should know right off the bat that she wasn’t going to any midnight soirees with him.

“Okay, fine, you’ve got me there,” he said. “Tonight I managed to get my staff to let me get home at five and have dinner alone here in my own house, and I’m thrilled about it.”

Oh, so that’s why he’d answered the phone when she called. Well, at least she knew his staff wasn’t hanging around in the background.

“I understand that so clearly,” she said. “When I finally moved into my house here in L.A., that first night I got to have dinner in my own kitchen again, instead of on a hotel bed or in a hotel bar . . . it was ‘shower after a ten-hour plane ride’ good.”

He burst out laughing.

“Okay, now you’re speaking my language,” he said. “I know very well exactly how wonderful that shower is. But don’t you miss Krystal and her perfect martinis?”

Oh God. They’d been on the phone this long already and she hadn’t thanked him for the cake yet!

“I do, but speaking of Krystal, thank you for the cake. It’s delicious.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that we do actually have good old-fashioned layer cakes in Los Angeles, even though most dessert menus don’t. That bakery is one of my favorites, and they have so many great cakes, I had a hard time deciding which one to send you.”

She’d been so distracted by the note she hadn’t even bothered to look to see where it had come from. She looked at the box and scribbled down the name of the bakery.

“What were you deciding between?” she asked.

And how had he found the time to do this? Hadn’t he had events all day?

“Well,” he said. “It was mostly between the chocolate one that I sent you, and a yellow cake with chocolate frosting, though carrot cake was a real dark horse. But in the end, I decided to go with the first one you’d mentioned at the bar—I figured that was the one you were craving the most.”

She couldn’t believe he’d remembered the cakes she’d listed at the bar, and in what order.

Was this for real? Was he just making it up that he’d thought about what kind of cake she’d liked the best, when he’d really delegated “send cake to new conquest” to a staffer?

“By the way, I also know some great places for pie, if you’re interested in joining me for dinner at one of them.”

“Dinner” was just code for a one-night stand, she knew that, but that part she didn’t really mind. It was everything else about Max Powell that gave her pause.

Oh hell with it, Olivia—he sent you a cake, didn’t he? Who cares if he placed the call himself or if someone else did; his staffer wasn’t there with the two of you at the bar that night to take notes and remember your cake preferences. Plus, remember how hot he is?

But as nice as that was, she was still far too busy to go out with him, and she opened her mouth to tell him so.

“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.