The Kept Woman by Susan Donovan Read Free Book Online Page A

man's kiss had been, and how it took every bit of self-control she had not to jump him on the sidewalk, wrap her legs around his waist, and beg for it. Of course, that was not the kind of public display his campaign would benefit from. But it was just plain cruel for him to kiss her like that, when she hadn't had any for going on eighteen months.
    Samantha snapped back to the present. Jack's smile had frozen on his face as he observed the collection of people on his driveway. Maybe Sam should have mentioned that Monte and Simon were helping them get settled, but she didn't think it was a big deal.
    She noticed how Jack seamlessly recovered from his surprise and descended the limestone steps leading to the walkway. He wore pressed khakis and a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A navy and burgundy Argyle sweater was tossed casually over his shoulders. If it weren't for her beat-up Toyota van in the drive, the vision of this man and this house would have looked like a living, breathing Ralph Lauren magazine ad.
    Sam thought she saw a slight limp in Jack's gait, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. He had moved to within a few feet of Lily, Greg, and Simon and had extended his hand in greeting when a noise caught his attention. Jack turned his head and. . .
    "Lord have mercy," Monte sighed.
     

    Perhaps Stuart had hidden a loophole somewhere in the body of the contract, an escape clause to be used in an emergency. That's the thought Jack clung to as he set out seven mugs and made seven cups of hot cocoa and engaged in small talk with these seven people. Because clearly, this was not going to work.
    The littlest kid had been naked from the waist down. Right out on his front lawn. In December . With dog hair stuck all over the front of his little coat!
    Meanwhile, the source of the dog hair had been merrily taking a dump on said lawn.
    Now seated at the breakfast bar in the kitchen were three silent, wide-eyed adolescents, who looked like they were afraid to breathe the wrong way. It was obvious that the brown-haired boy, Greg, had a wicked stutter. The girl, Lily, was sickly pale, skinny, and wore so much eye makeup she looked like someone had given her two shiners. The African-American kid, Simon, kept his arms crossed over his chest and his lips tightly sealed.
    And Sam's friend Monte had been scanning the house from top to bottom and making little humming noises of approval when she saw something she liked. Such as the powder room off the foyer. And the front staircase. And the media room, the pool and fitness center, and the built-in Sub-Zero refrigerator. Jack felt strangely violated when Monte turned that same assessing gaze on his person, her eyes taking him in from tip to toe, a deep " mmmm, mmmm, mmmm " vibrating in her throat.
    Then there was Sam. She had obviously been embarrassed by what happened in the front yard, and she'd chased after little Arizona and put his clothes back on him, apologizing all the while, rambling on about potty training, a subject Jack believed should only be broached on a need-to-know basis, and he sure as hell didn't need to know anything about potty training and never would.
    At that moment, Sam held the squirming red-haired kid like she feared he'd run away or touch something or take off his pants again. The scruffy white dog was barking his head off and clawing at the glass door of the Florida room.
    Jack blinked, recalling that Kara had used the word "perfect" when describing Sam and her entourage. What had the woman been thinking ? The only votes this crowd would bring him would be sympathy votes.
    "I think now that I can take a leave of absence from the salon and be home with him every day, he'll get the hang of it real quick."
    Jack nodded at Sam's comment, vaguely aware she must once again be referring to Utah's potty-training problems, and realizing that when she said the word "home" she meant this house, the house built by his grandfather Wilson Milford Tolliver