Free The Kept Woman by Susan Donovan Page A

the kitchen's glass-front cabinets, and pull out a cut-crystal drinking glass like he'd lived here forever.
    She smiled. "It's not psychology. I just love you guys and want the best for you. It's that simple."
    "Gotcha," Lily said.
    "There's one nice kid I met," Greg volunteered. "He seems OK. He's into chess."
    "Sounds like a keeper," Lily muttered.
    "How about you, Lil? Any potential friends on the horizon?"
    Lily reached for another cookie before she answered her mother. "Not really. Everybody's in established little cliques. One loser dude keeps bugging me, though. He's in my AP English class and he calls me 'Goth Girl.' So original."
    "But how would we go back to Tech, Mom?" Greg sat back down with his milk. "Now that we've got some money, why would we move back to the East End?"
    Lily made a face. "We could live on some fancy cul-de-sac in Carmel and Jack could get us in Tech if we wanted. Look at the way he pulled strings to get us into Park Tudor at the end of the grading period. Guess it comes in handy to have that much clout."
    Sam smiled. "We will never take advantage of that."
    "I bet he could get us into anything," Greg said, not bothering to hide his excitement. "I'd like to sit at the f-f-fifty-yard line to watch the Colts play, then go down on the field for autographs. I know he could do that!"
    "I'd like front-row seats at the Green Day concert." Lily said, her eyes lighting up. "With a limo ride and backstage passes."
    Sam laughed. She was about to explain that Jack Tolliver was not their own personal gravy train but realized that would sound ridiculous. Because that's exactly what he was.
     

    The game had definitely started, Jack noted, because Samantha Monroe was now seated next to him looking dutifully datelike. He hoped she'd loosen up some and be quick about it, since the Indiana versus Milwaukee contest had started, too, and all around them were the usual suspects tucked into their prime courtside seats—the Marion County prosecutor, the U.S. Attorney, the president of Indiana University—Purdue University Indianapolis, the mayor, the managing editor of the Star , and assorted wives, kids, lobbyists, trial attorneys, legislators, professional athletes, and trophy bimbos, including three women Jack was fairly certain he'd dated at some point, especially the brunette who had not stopped scowling at him.
    That any one of them had failed to notice Jack with Samantha was a near impossibility. He'd already exchanged greetings with most, including the brunette, whose name he thought might be Amanada. Or Amelia. He chuckled a little to himself, realizing that for a politician he was pretty damn awful with names.
    He looked over at Sam again. There was no way that any of these people could see Sam over here and think, Love-struck fiancee . Descriptive phrases like "nervous wreck" and "fish out of water" were far more likely. Jack wished Sam would stop bouncing her leg up and down like that.
    He smiled at Sam and she offered up a pained and brief smile in response. Jack sighed. Kara had instructed both of them to dress down for the evening as evidence they were attempting to be low-key about the relationship. She'd suggested they both wear jeans and casual shoes and tops. She told Sam to go light on the makeup (which seemed silly, considering that Jack had hardly seen her in anything other than lip gloss) and to minimize jewelry. She told Jack to wear a ball cap as if he were trying to hide from the press.
    "Need anything else, Sam?" He felt ridiculous and knew that she did, too. Sam had hardly said ten words to him that evening, and her leg kept shaking like there was a swarm of fire ants crawling up the curve of her lovely left calf. Jack checked her out again from head to toe, noting that Sam had opted for a simple scoop neck black T-shirt obviously made of some sort of cotton-Spandex blend, because, even untucked, it clung to her curves like a coat of shellac. She wore simple black leather boots with a