The Kept Woman Read Online Free PDF Page B

breathing.
    Samantha Monroe lowered her chin and gave him a nod accompanied by what might have been the most disarming smile he'd ever seen. It conveyed embarrassment, humor, and cunning. As Stuart introduced everyone, Jack reached over the conference table to awkwardly grab Samantha Monroe's cute little hand. That's when he started to buzz all over. He was still buzzing as he lowered his body into his seat, realizing a nanosecond too late that his seat was still somewhere across the room.
    Jack rebounded from the floor, easing into the chair Stuart had kindly wheeled back into place. His knee hurt like hell. He saw Kara roll her eyes. He heard the Amazonian attorney snicker. And he looked over to see Samantha Monroe gaze at him with pity, like she was about to reach in her purse, pull out a Band-Aid, and apply it to his boo-boo.
    Dear God. He wasn't sure getting elected to the U.S. Senate was worth this.
    "Shall we get started?" Jack asked, like the graceful statesman he was.
     

    Sam decided not to panic. So what if Jack Tolliver was a goof? He wouldn't be her real fiance. And she sure wasn't going to laugh, because there was nothing funny about being in a conference room full of lawyers who were about to deposit a huge honking wad of cash into her gasping checking account. She was taking all of this quite seriously.
    Tolliver looked exactly like his pictures; she'd give him that. He wore an expensive, perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit. He had the presence of a movie star, complete with a long, muscular frame, big shoulders, thick, well-cut dark hair that would need a trim in two weeks. He had a high, strong nose, forest green eyes, and a wickedly attractive set of lips. Sam and the kids had spent hours researching this guy on the Internet. According to Greg, if it hadn't been for the career-ending knee injury in the third quarter of the Super Bowl, Jack Tolliver could have been one of the game's greatest. According to Lily, anyone that tall, dark, rich, and hot had to be a complete jerk, and she'd shown Sam the articles about the national teachers' convention scandal to prove it.
    Sam pursed her lips, remembering that video clip they'd all watched. It was about a half hour before the event began. Jack had apparently thought no one was paying any attention to him as he placed his notes on the podium. His eyes had strayed to the sight of one of the conference presenters, bent at the waist, retrieving a dropped pen. It was like he couldn't stop himself. He smiled and said, " I'd gladly stay after school to get me a piece of that ." A week later he lost his bid for Congress. Exit polls showed he got less than 20 percent of the female vote. The press called him everything from a cad to a sex addict.
    But looking at Jack now, as he tried to recover from literally falling on his ass, Sam didn't know what to think of the man.
    He began to talk, and Sam heard the deep resonance of the voice more than she heard the specific words. He had an orator's voice. A politician's voice. An actor's voice. Jack Tolliver's voice was mellow but precise, and he used his hands when he made a point. His hands were large, masculine, and well manicured. She'd seen many photos of him cradling a football, his arm cocked, ready to shoot it off into space. She remembered the way his big, smooth hand had cradled hers just moments ago.
    Denny cleared her throat "Sam?" Her attorney scowled down at her.
    "Yes. Right. The living arrangements." Sam smiled, pleased that she'd apparently been listening subconsciously while allowing her mind to wander, a skill she'd perfected as a mother and a hairstylist. "I've already told Mr. Foster that we'd prefer a home of our own."
    "Please call me Stuart," Jack's lawyer said with a friendly smile. "As I explained to you previously, and as my client was just reiterating, we can't do that for you. It's either your children's private schooling through high school accompanied by the college trust fund or a home. Not both.