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“Navy SEAL.”
“Well, then that makes total sense. Were you the prom king and star quarterback, too?” Because he was simply too perfect.
His grin turned sheepish, and she knew she was right.
“Seriously? I was joking.”
He shrugged. “I guess I’ve always been ambitious.”
“You’d have to be, to put yourself in the crosshairs to run for president. And have a very thick skin.”
“Media lies have never bothered me. My family knows who I am, and my voters know who I am.”
Anne was still skeptical, but let it go. She sighted again and fired a few more shots.
“It’s firing a bit up and to the right,” Blane said. Taking a stance behind her, he put his arms alongside hers, adjusting her sightline. “Try that.”
His lips were right at her cheek, so close she felt the brush of his breath. Along with the press of his body against hers, she nearly forgot the gun in her hand. She squeezed the trigger. The shot went wide, nowhere near the target.
Blane’s grip tightened on her arms, and he leaned closer, if that was even possible, and made another minute adjustment to the weapon’s position. “Try again.”
This time she concentrated before firing and was gratified to see a bullseye in the center of the head.
“Nice!” Blane stepped away from her and she could breathe properly again.
They spent the better part of two hours shooting. She shot with his gun as well, surprised at the heft of it after getting used to the Sig. They had an impromptu contest, complete with talking smack and laughing at each other, which Blane of course won.
When they were out of bullets, they returned their gear and headed to Blane’s car. He opened the door for her, and she slid inside. A moment later, he was behind the wheel.
“Would you like to grab an early dinner?” he asked.
Before Anne could answer, his cell rang. “Sorry,” he said with a grimace as he answered the call.
“Kirk.”
“Senator, I’m sorry to bother you on the weekend.” A woman’s voice emerged from the car’s speakers.
“Not a problem, Linda. What can I do for you?”
“It’s the Hadden-Minksy bill,” she said. “Senator Lemmons wants to meet with you regarding an amendment she thinks might be of interest to you.”
“Tell the Senator that I’m not available right now, but schedule something for Monday morning with her.”
“She stressed that she wanted to meet as soon as possible.”
Blane’s lips thinned. “Fine,” he said, his disappointment acute. “Tell her my office in an hour.” He ended the call and turned to Anne. “I’m sorry to have to cut this short. I wanted to take you to dinner.”
“It’s fine,” she said with a small smile. “I guess a senator’s work is never done?”
“I usually try to keep the weekends open. Everyone needs time to unplug. Linda, my chief of staff, knows not to bother me if it’s something that can wait.” His irritation ratcheted up a notch. Today had been blocked out on his calendar and yet she was calling him in anyway. There must be something she didn’t want to say over the phone.
“That was her then?”
He nodded.
“She doesn’t mind working on the weekend?”
“She’s, ah, very devoted to her work.” And not allowing anyone else an inch into the role she’d carved at his side. He wasn’t stupid. No doubt she’d expect to follow him to the White House, if elected.
