Max plucked her wineglass out of her fingers and set it down on the table. The look in his eyes made her feel breathless.

“I have one more thing to put on your list. But you can check it off anytime you want.” He trailed his fingers along her jaw and drew her even closer to him.

“Oh? What’s that?” She hadn’t meant to whisper, but then she hadn’t expected him to make her tremble. She put her hand on his knee. God, why did it feel so good to touch him?

He leaned in, inch by inch, until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart.

“Kiss me,” he said.

And she did.

His lips were soft and gentle . . . at first. But after a few moments of light, tender kisses, he slid his hands into her hair and pulled her hard against him. She threw herself into the kiss, kissing him harder, deeper. She could tell he liked it, so she did it again, until he pulled her on top of him so she was straddling him. Now she could really tell he liked it. He leaned down to kiss her neck—this man had good instincts, God did she love being kissed there. She took the opportunity to run her fingers through his thick hair, and felt him sigh and then kiss her harder.

She reached down and tugged his shirt out of his jeans, and ran her hands up and down his back. He pulled her head back down to his and kissed her hard, but as they kissed, he reached around and took her hands in his.

Did he not want her to touch him there? Or touch him at all? No, she was on his lap right now, he clearly liked it when she touched him and kissed him, but as tactful as it had been he’d definitely removed her hands from his back.

She pulled away and looked at him. He certainly looked like he was enjoying himself. All flushed, with swollen lips and unfocused eyes.

“Do you want to move to my bedroom?” she asked, just as he said, “I should probably go.”

As soon as Olivia realized what he’d said, equal amounts of rage and humiliation rushed over her.

“I see,” she said.

She scrambled off his lap and tugged her dress down.

He touched her arm, but she pulled away and stood up.

“I think you’re right,” she said. “You should probably go.”

Was this somehow fun for him? Had last time not been an emergency, but instead just a way for him to get off on leading her on?

“No, wait, Olivia . . .” He sighed. “I should have done this earlier, but you’re so . . . well, I got carried away. This isn’t . . . I really . . .” He stopped and closed his eyes for a second and then looked at her. “I did this all wrong, but can you let me explain?”

All she wanted was to pick him up bodily and throw him out her front door, but (a) she didn’t think she was strong enough for that, and (b) she was pretty sure that was a federal offense. Honestly, right now, (a) was the more significant issue for her. Note to self: take some weight lifting classes.

But as she glared at him, her rage faded. Slightly. He looked so contrite, so eager to say whatever it was he wanted to say. She still felt like this was a trick, that the politician in him was going to come out and give her some bullshit speech he’d given a million other women. But he’d asked if he could explain, without just launching straight into his “I don’t want to sleep with you” stump speech, and maybe that was part of the act, but it was just enough for her.

She sat back down on the corner of the couch and pointed to the opposite corner.

“Sit there. You have exactly three minutes.” She dug her phone out of her pocket and opened the timer. “Starting . . . now.”

Max sat down where she’d pointed.

“I just thought maybe we should get to know each other better, that’s all,” he said.

Olivia rolled her eyes and stood back up.

“I lied, you don’t get three minutes after all. That’s seriously all you can do? Didn’t you just tell me you were good at talking to people? I get it, you’re not interested, and this whole night was some bullshit, but you don’t have to keep bullshitting me just to protect your reputation or whatever. Trust me, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

Max leapt off the couch and reached for her hand, but stopped just short of grabbing it.

“No, I swear, that’s not it, that’s the opposite of it. I’m really not lying, I do want to get to know you better, but . . .”

This man clearly thought she was as gullible as every other woman he’d done this to. That whole listening-to-her-and-taking-her-seriously thing had just been an act.

Max looked at the undoubtedly skeptical expression on her face and stopped.

“You’re not buying this, are you?” he asked.

She shook her head. Why had she even given him a chance to “explain” anyway?

“Okay, okay.” He took a deep breath. “The real story is that . . . shit, I only had three minutes and it’s probably closer to two now so I’m going to rush through this, but the short version is I really like you. That’s why I want to get to know you better. I like you so much that . . . oh God, it’s so embarrassing to tell you this, but I should have figured out something else to say in advance and I didn’t and I’m wasting my minutes, and I think you probably won’t believe anything but the truth right now so I just have to say it: I told a friend of mine—a congressman, he’s my roommate in DC, anyway that’s not important—I told him about you, and he made me promise not to sleep with you yet.”