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Authors: Susan Donovan
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in both corporate and private contributions, and so is Gerring Pharmaceuticals. But Charlie Manheimer's got a boatload of family values money, Stu. It's got me a little worried—those religious right organizations have a ton of cash to play with."
Stuart shrugged. "Manheimer can talk the talk all he wants, but you, my boy, are going to be walking the walk, right in front of the voters. I think the less of a deal you make of Sam and the kids the more impact it's going to have."
"That's what Kara said."
"So you ready for the Pacers game?"
Jack sighed. Tomorrow night was supposed to be his first official public outing with Sam. Their first date, so to speak. They had courtside seats to watch Indiana annihilate Milwaukee. Kara had planned everything down to what they should both wear and how he was to whisper in Sam's ear at least twice a quarter to ensure the photographers would catch it. He had been instructed to kiss Sam's cheek and buy her popcorn. He had been reminded to drape his arm around her shoulders protectively as they walked out of Conseco Fieldhouse. Like he needed to be told how to date a woman! He could practically write the field guide! "Yeah. I'm ready."
Stuart tossed the water bottle into his gym bag and glared at Jack through his goggles. "Is there something else you're not telling me? What's going on?"
Jack shook his head. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell Stuart that he'd lost sleep several nights in a row thinking of Sam and the way her lips felt just damn perfect under his. He wouldn't dare tell Stuart that he'd already decided that the first gift he'd buy her would be a flaming red bra and thong set, something to accentuate her pale flesh and warm curls.
"Nothing," Jack said.
"No way, Jack." Stuart laughed. "Anything but that." He shook his head in disdain. "Look, it's just six months. You can go without the kitty for six months. You have to. You're clear on this, right?"
Jack rolled his eyes.
"No. Really, Tolliver. You want to be U.S. senator? Then keep Mr. Man in your pants for the next six months. Think about it. Let's say Christy or any lucky city desk reporter sees you stepping out on your new 'fiancee.' You think they'd keep that little secret to themselves? Maybe back in your dad's day, but not now, dude. You think getting caught cheating on your intended is gonna win back the hearts of the voters? I sure as hell don't."
Jack took a quick glance around the hallway of the Columbia Club just to make sure no one could overhear this little chat. The place was crawling with politicos, journalists, lawyers, and captains of industry and commerce. "Keep your voice down, Stu."
"And even worse—if you even think about messing with Samantha Monroe, it's gonna get really complicated really fast. This is business, Jack. She is a prop—keep reminding yourself that— prop, prop, prop . She's pretty and sharp, but she's a prop nonetheless."
Jack nodded silently.
"Repeat after me." Stuart got right in his face, and Jack had to laugh at how goofy he looked lecturing him in those ridiculous goggles. He resembled a pissed-off frog. "Samantha Monroe is not real. She is a prop. Say it."
"Sam Monroe is not real," Jack whispered, feeling fairly foolish. "She is a prop."
"Good." Stuart slapped Jack in the upper right forearm and nudged him back into the racquetball court. "Now finish kicking my ass so I can get back to the office."
"You gotta get me out of that hellhole." Lily slammed her Army surplus knap sack onto the kitchen table and stared at her mother with real panic. "I'm serious. That place is completely fucked up."
Before Sam could gasp at her daughter's language, Lily had already started apologizing.
"I'm sorry, but it's true. I refuse to go to school with a bunch of rich-kid suck-ups and phonies. So far, the only difference I can see is that private schoolies are better at hiding shit than the kids in public school. Whoops—I meant to say 'stuff.' Sorry."
Sam stood stock still
Stuart shrugged. "Manheimer can talk the talk all he wants, but you, my boy, are going to be walking the walk, right in front of the voters. I think the less of a deal you make of Sam and the kids the more impact it's going to have."
"That's what Kara said."
"So you ready for the Pacers game?"
Jack sighed. Tomorrow night was supposed to be his first official public outing with Sam. Their first date, so to speak. They had courtside seats to watch Indiana annihilate Milwaukee. Kara had planned everything down to what they should both wear and how he was to whisper in Sam's ear at least twice a quarter to ensure the photographers would catch it. He had been instructed to kiss Sam's cheek and buy her popcorn. He had been reminded to drape his arm around her shoulders protectively as they walked out of Conseco Fieldhouse. Like he needed to be told how to date a woman! He could practically write the field guide! "Yeah. I'm ready."
Stuart tossed the water bottle into his gym bag and glared at Jack through his goggles. "Is there something else you're not telling me? What's going on?"
Jack shook his head. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell Stuart that he'd lost sleep several nights in a row thinking of Sam and the way her lips felt just damn perfect under his. He wouldn't dare tell Stuart that he'd already decided that the first gift he'd buy her would be a flaming red bra and thong set, something to accentuate her pale flesh and warm curls.
"Nothing," Jack said.
"No way, Jack." Stuart laughed. "Anything but that." He shook his head in disdain. "Look, it's just six months. You can go without the kitty for six months. You have to. You're clear on this, right?"
Jack rolled his eyes.
"No. Really, Tolliver. You want to be U.S. senator? Then keep Mr. Man in your pants for the next six months. Think about it. Let's say Christy or any lucky city desk reporter sees you stepping out on your new 'fiancee.' You think they'd keep that little secret to themselves? Maybe back in your dad's day, but not now, dude. You think getting caught cheating on your intended is gonna win back the hearts of the voters? I sure as hell don't."
Jack took a quick glance around the hallway of the Columbia Club just to make sure no one could overhear this little chat. The place was crawling with politicos, journalists, lawyers, and captains of industry and commerce. "Keep your voice down, Stu."
"And even worse—if you even think about messing with Samantha Monroe, it's gonna get really complicated really fast. This is business, Jack. She is a prop—keep reminding yourself that— prop, prop, prop . She's pretty and sharp, but she's a prop nonetheless."
Jack nodded silently.
"Repeat after me." Stuart got right in his face, and Jack had to laugh at how goofy he looked lecturing him in those ridiculous goggles. He resembled a pissed-off frog. "Samantha Monroe is not real. She is a prop. Say it."
"Sam Monroe is not real," Jack whispered, feeling fairly foolish. "She is a prop."
"Good." Stuart slapped Jack in the upper right forearm and nudged him back into the racquetball court. "Now finish kicking my ass so I can get back to the office."
"You gotta get me out of that hellhole." Lily slammed her Army surplus knap sack onto the kitchen table and stared at her mother with real panic. "I'm serious. That place is completely fucked up."
Before Sam could gasp at her daughter's language, Lily had already started apologizing.
"I'm sorry, but it's true. I refuse to go to school with a bunch of rich-kid suck-ups and phonies. So far, the only difference I can see is that private schoolies are better at hiding shit than the kids in public school. Whoops—I meant to say 'stuff.' Sorry."
Sam stood stock still
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