THE PRESIDENT'S GIRLFRIEND by Mallory Monroe Read Free Book Online

said, attempting to laugh it off.
     “You may not know it, but I do.”
     “You?” Gina asked, wondering if he remembered Miami after all.
     “Yes, me.”
     “But you don’t know jack about me.”
     Dutch smiled.  “I know that any female willing to stand before the President of the United States and call him everything but a child of God, has got to be strong.”   
     Gina laughed.  He loved the way her narrow shoulders shook when she did.  “I like that about you,” he added, unable to share in her laughter.
     Gina felt the heat of his stare all over her body.  He seemed determined to make it clear to her that he was interested.  Which would be remarkable in and of itself.  This man was the president, for crying out loud!  But she was no fool, either.  He was the very eligible bachelor President, a man who had lost his fiancée a decade ago in a plane crash and had, after mourning her death, decided to play the field liberally. 
     According to press reports she remembered reading during the campaign, he was known in some circles as Wham Bam Harber , the hit and run specialist.  The man who often played the field. 
     And now this same man was showing interest in her?   But why?  Did he remember her and, more importantly, did he see her as an easy lay?  Did he figure he could have some quickie, some booty call session with a powerless female like her, then dump her quietly because nobody but her powerless self would care?  She decided to test the waters, to see if she was right.
     “Is this why you asked to see me?  Because you think I’m tough?”
     “I didn’t say you were tough,” Dutch corrected her.  “You aren’t tough.  But you’re strong.  And yes, that’s part of it.”
     “What’s the other part?” Gina asked, unsure what he meant.  “The fact that you agree with me and will veto that budge bill?”
     “I can’t commit to that at this point.”
     “But why, sir?  I don’t think you understand how all of these rounds and rounds of budget cuts are affecting programs like mine.  In this bad economy, all of our private donations have completely dried up.  Not that they were outstanding to begin with.  I mean, who wants to give money to an organization that helps gang bangers and prostitutes get their acts together?  Who wants justice for those former criminals, right?”
     It was the word justice that stopped Dutch cold.  And he remembered.  He remembered the MC at the awards ceremony mentioning that she used to be a public defender.  And her passion for the poor and misbegotten.  And her nickname is Gina.  And she has those striking eyes and curvaceous figure and . . . But It couldn’t be , he thought.
     Unaware that his look had changed dramatically toward her, Gina kept talking.  “So private donations have never been our driving force,” she continued.  “It was government grants that kept our doors open.  But if Congress keeps cutting that funding, our revenue stream will dry up so completely that we won’t have any choice but to shut down.  And Block by Block Raiders is a very successful organization, we don’t have to pad our numbers the way a lot of these other non-profits do.  We’re for real, sir.”
     Dutch was certain now.  It was her.  It was that wonderful young lady in Miami Beach all those years ago.  The one that had rocked his world for that one night.  The night of his father’s death.  He had been so traumatized by succeeding events, so swept up by the enormous burden he immediately had to bear as the heir to his father’s fortune, that he tried his level best not to entertain memories of that wonderful night.  He became so successful at compartmentalizing his life before and after his father’s death, so spot-on with his singular focus, that, over time, his memories of that night began to fade to such an