Fake Boyfriend - Miley Maine Page 0,11
right?”
“Why not?” I asked.
Loren unbuckled her seat belt and tucked one leg under her body. “For one thing, you sounded like a robot. Like a robot being held at gunpoint who couldn't imagine anything worse than asking a woman out on a date!”
“Your imagination is definitely vivid.”
“You’re a tough soldier, looking to blow off some steam. So, now tell me what you’d say.”
“How do you know so much about what people say and do in bars if you were so sheltered?”
“I didn’t say I stayed home. I went out. I went out a lot. I just… didn’t do anything.”
“I’d say, ‘You look amazing in those jeans.’”
“That’s it?” she asked.
I nodded. It had never taken more than that. “I don’t need a bunch of cheesy lines or gimmicks. I just compliment the woman, and if she’s interested, then we had fun.”
She tapped her chin. “Do you think that’ll work for me?”
I had to suppress a growl. I did not want her going bar hopping, looking for losers to pick up. “Are you planning to try this in Alaska?”
“Maybe.”
“Not a good idea,” I said.
“And why not?”
“Because you don’t know anyone in Alaska.”
“I’m going to know you.”
I crossed my arms. “You want me to follow you around?”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to help me get a date.”
“You’re not going to need help getting a date,” I muttered. But I would need help not breaking both his arms. “You have the rest of your life to go bar hopping.”
“Yeah, but I’m ready now.”
The thought of her out there, flirting with random men sent my pulse skyrocketing.
“You need to be careful,” I said. I was about to launch into a more severe warning for Loren, complete with stories about all the things that could happen to a young person who wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, when a flight attendant appeared next to our seats.
“Miss Stevens?”
Loren looked up at her. “Yes?”
“Your father sent this to you.” The flight attendant handed over a bottle of champagne nestled in a round ice bucket, and Loren placed it on the tray table in front of us.
Loren’s jaw went tight. “Thank you,” she said to the attendant.
“And I really want to tell you that I appreciate what your mother’s done for our unions. I called her office and left a message with an aide,” the flight attendant said.
“I’ll let her know.”
As soon as the attendant was gone, Loren pushed the bucket away from us.
Stevens. Why did that sound familiar?
Susanna Stevens. The Senior Senator for Georgia. Loren was her daughter?
“Senator Stevens is your mother?”
She nodded.
“And your father is Oliver Stevens?” The tycoon who founded Stevens Manufacturing. And her late grandfather had been General Adam Stevens, who’d served on the National Security Council for not one president, but two. And, if I remembered correctly, her mother’s brother was the Attorney General in Georgia.
Christ. Any arousal I’d had drained away. Messing with her was a ticking time bomb. One that would explode right in my face if I wasn’t careful.
“So when you didn’t know how to get through the security, that was because…”
“Because I’ve always flown on a private plane.”
“But you didn’t want to say that.”
“No.” Her voice rose. “Of course not.” She looked around and made an obvious effort to lower her voice to normal. “Because anytime anyone finds that out, they start acting weird, just like you’re doing now.”
“I’m not acting weird.” I wasn’t acting weird. I just needed to get the hell away from her.
“Yes.” She pointed at me. “You are. This was the first time in my life I’d felt normal. Since I was a baby, I’ve always had a bodyguard lurking around, reporting back to my dad. This champagne he sent wasn’t a nice gesture. It was to remind me that he’s still in control. I love my family, but that’s how they are. All of them. They’re like a heavy hand on my shoulder, always pressing down.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, mostly because she was so obviously upset. My parents were still alive, and I visited them in Florida once or twice a year, and called them when I could. My dad had been a plumber and my mom was a school secretary. They’d loved us, but they had five kids. I’d never dealt with any level of interference from my family.
Even after what happened to my sister, they still hadn’t tried to control any of us.
“Don’t be sorry,” Loren said. “Just don’t treat me any different.”
I had to treat her differently. I’d been having fun,