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

in 1927, now home for Sam and her brood for the next six months.
    Jack chatted with Sam about the real estate market, the specifics of the kids' school transfer, and the hours usually kept by Mr. and Mrs. Dyson, the handyman and the housekeeper. All the while he tried to keep his mind and his eyes off of Samantha Monroe's curvy little shape. She'd worn a pair of snug jeans today and another little sweater thing, and though the clothes were simple, she looked unbelievably gorgeous in them. It pained him to admit that Sam's butt was just as cute as the rest of her. It pained him further that he couldn't seem to forget that kiss outside the restaurant.
    There had to be a loophole somewhere.
    The kids sipped their hot cocoa in silence as Jack calculated how much time it would take to get all their stuff back out of the house. The movers had arrived earlier that morning with boxes of clothes and toys and books and CDs, mentioning that most of Sam's furniture and belongings went into a big storage facility on West Tenth Street out near the Speedway. As the movers carried several large boxes and a few wardrobes up to Sam's suite, Jack couldn't help but be curious about what Sam had decided she couldn't live without for six months.
    Six long months .
    "I'd like to get my room set up if that would be OK." Lily's request came out in a tentative voice, and Jack found himself trying to look past the smudged eye pencil to see the girl beneath. She had blue eyes just like her mom, but her mouth was pinched and thin, not plump and cute like Sam's. Jack gave her a polite smile, thinking that the girl had just moved into a stranger's house and was supposed to start at Park Tudor School on Monday, transferring from the inner-city Tech High. All of this couldn't be easy for her, either.
    "Sure. No problem. I'll give you all a tour of your upstairs wing."
    It became very quiet. Sam cleared her throat.
    "I've never lived in a place with wings before," she said with a smile, trying to engage the surly teenagers in small talk. "Greg knows that all I've ever wanted was an attached garage."
    Monte nodded. "Hmm-hmm. Only wings I've ever experienced are the chicken kind."
    The two women let loose with a guffaw, and the kids started to snicker—even Simon—and Jack found himself comforted by the thought that as soon as everyone was settled in their rooms he'd be on the phone with Stuart.
     

    Sam let her head sink back into the sea of down pillows and tried to slow her breathing and calm her pulse. It struck her as ironic that her heart had apparently chosen that evening to pound out the rhythm of three years' worth of doubt and sadness and worry—now that everything was going to be fine. Maybe it was just an adrenaline letdown. Maybe it was just that she finally had a little time to breathe. To think. To feel .
    Unfortunately, most of what she was feeling didn't feel so good.
    It helped to look down at Dakota's peaceful face beside her, his little bow of a mouth open in blissful dream-sleep, his cheeks flushed, his baby eyelashes fluttering from the images only he could see. He'd lasted about five minutes in his new room next door, too scared to be alone. Sam knew that poor Greg had to be loving the peace of having a bedroom of his own after all these years, so she'd welcomed the little one into her suite. Sam had turned out all the lights but the one over the sink in the adjoining bathroom and had tucked Dakota into the down comforter.
    She studied his cherubic face and let her fingers play in his curls. Dakota certainly had inherited her hair, but the rest of him looked just like Mitchell. Sometimes, Sam was caught off guard by the resemblance and before she could even think about protecting herself the pain would have already sliced her into pieces. Sure, it hurt that she'd apparently done such a bang-up job at being a wife that her husband decided he was gay and filed for divorce—all while she was pregnant. But what killed her was that once