The next thing she knew, she woke up to the sound of the front door closing. She opened her eyes to see Max walk into the living room and smile at her.

“Hey.” He moved her laptop off the couch and onto the coffee table. “Get some good work done on the pitch?”

She nodded as he pulled her into his arms.

“I did. And I got in a very good nap. How was the parade?”

He kissed her on the shoulder.

“Very exuberant. Did I tell you this morning that you look incredible in that dress? Because I kept thinking it, but we were with my staff the whole time, so I can’t remember if I said it out loud.”

She pulled off his tie.

“You did say it, as a matter of fact, right after I got dressed. But I’m happy for you to say it again.”

He smiled as she unbuttoned his white shirt, which he’d somehow managed to keep crisp through all of that cooking and a parade outside in the July heat of Los Angeles.

“Do you know the only thing you look better in than that dress?” He pushed her back on the couch. “Nothing at all.”

She smiled as she ran her hands up and down his warm, firm chest, and then down to his waistband.

“I think that could be arranged.”

She couldn’t stop touching him. She’d seen him last night and this morning, but that didn’t make a difference. It was like he was a magnet, drawing her to him, and she was powerless to resist.

“How much time do we have until we have to be at this fundraiser?” she asked as he tossed her dress onto the floor.

“Plenty of time.”

She closed her eyes as his hands roamed over her body.

“Oh thank God.”

Forty minutes later, they got out of Max’s big shower, and she pulled her shower cap off.

“Okay, but really—what’s tonight going to be like?” she asked.

He rubbed a towel over his hair.

“Did your old law firm used to have holiday parties?”

She opened the drawer where she kept all of her toiletries.

“Yeah—lots of standing around, holding a drink in one hand and a plate in the other, and trying somehow to shake hands with people. Occasionally someone would get too drunk and make a fool out of themselves, a few boring speeches, frequent low-level sexual harassment, the usual.”

Max nodded.

“It’ll be a lot like that, hopefully without that last thing. Though—incredibly—the egos will all be bigger.” He combed a dollop of gel through his hair with his fingers. “The good thing, though, is that I always get to arrive late and leave after exactly an hour. It’s amazing what you can get away with as a senator, I’m telling you.”

He gave her that cocky grin, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him. Damn, she loved this man.

As soon as they walked into the party, though, all of her fears and what-ifs from earlier in the day came back to her with the first words out of their host’s mouth.

“Senator Powell! This must be Olivia! Shouldn’t your woman be in blue, not red?”

No So nice to meet you, no Hi, Olivia, my name is Asshole, not even a Would you like something to drink? before he was calling her Max’s woman and assuming Max had decision-making power over her wardrobe.

Max ignored the last sentence, and put his hand on her back.

“Olivia, this is a very old friend of mine, Cary Thompson. Cary, this is my girlfriend, Olivia Monroe.”

Olivia forced her face into a smile and reached out to shake Cary’s hand.

“Hi, Cary, thanks for having me.” Was it petty that she refused to say Nice to meet you? Maybe, but did she care? No.

She kept the fake smile on her face as she and Max and Cary walked outside to Cary’s enormous multilevel deck.

“Jerry! Hey, great to see you, happy Fourth!” Max said to someone who came up to them. “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Olivia Monroe.”

Then it hit her. Max was introducing her to everyone tonight as his girlfriend. He’d never done that before.

She liked it.

Jerry nodded to her and shook her hand.

“Olivia, it’s lovely to meet you. You’re a lawyer, I hear? Tell me about the kind of work you do.”

What a relief that not everyone here would just see her as a Max appendage.

Cary brought her a glass of wine—at least he was good for something—and Max a beer, and they each stood there nursing their drinks for thirty minutes while they chatted with an endless number of people. Most of them were perfectly nice and friendly to her, though obviously very curious. Max stayed glued to her side the whole time, which she found both unnecessary and completely charming—she’d been to lots of cocktail parties, she knew how to play this game, but it was lovely of him to want to protect her.

After a while, Max’s staffer Andy came up and nodded to him. Olivia hadn’t even realized Andy was at the party. Max turned to wink at her, then walked over to Cary’s side.

“If you’ll all indulge me for a moment,” he said into a microphone that seemed to magically appear in his hand, “I’d like to thank you all for being here, and wish you all a happy Fourth of July!”

The whole party cheered, Olivia among them. Max kept talking—just your standard politician patriotic speech, but somehow, it sounded great coming from him. Olivia felt a swell of pride for Max and what a good man and politician and public servant he was, and that she was here with him. To be here, by his side, with his eyes on her, and that special smile just for her—that felt incredible. Suddenly the publicity and the reporters and the photographers and the constant smiling and the people who looked at her strangely and talked down to her didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was Max, who was both a senator and a man she loved very much. And he mattered more than anything else.