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

to pick you up.”
     Gina stood up, causing Christian to stand.  “What is it?” he asked her.
     “Is there a kitchen around here?”
     “A kitchen?”
     “Yes.  Where they cook food?”
     Christian smiled.  “But the president has a chef, ma’am.”
     “I know that, Christian.  Work with me, little brother.  I thought I’d see what’s in the kitchen and whip him up something quick.”
     Christian looked mortified.  “I don’t think that’s allowed, ma’am.”
     “I’m not going to poison him!  You can watch me the whole time.  But you said yourself he probably hadn’t eaten all day.  That’s not good.”
     “No, it’s not,” Christian found himself agreeing with her. 
     “So take me to the kitchen and let’s see what we can whip up for him.”
     Christian was reluctant, more like terrified if you asked Gina, but he escorted her into a small, private kitchen within the residence and watched as she pulled together some kind of pasta/vegetable dish that had him yearning to taste it.  She was, in fact, allowing Christian to taste a spoonful when they both looked up and saw the president standing there.
     “Sir?” Christian said, mortified.  “We were just--”
     “We thought you’d be hungry,” Gina interrupted.  “So viola ,” she said, “we whipped up a dish.”
     Dutch stood at the doorjamb, his body leaned against it to avoid falling on his face in exhaustion.  He could tell that both Christian and Gina were waiting with baited breath.  He smiled.  “Sounds great,” he said, pushing from the door and moving into the kitchen.  “I’m famished.”
     Christian breathe again, and Dutch told him he was excused for the night.
     “Hey,” Dutch said after Christian left, and he began moving toward Gina.
     “Hey yourself,” she replied and closed her eyes in anticipation when he leaned over and kissed her on the lips.  Then he looked at the food in front of her.  “Um,”  he said, “it smells good.”
     “Have a seat and try some,” she said.
     He removed his suit coat, flapped it over the kitchen chair, and took a seat at the small table.  Gina found it almost gratifying, this image of the president with his coat over his chair, preparing to eat her food.  She only hoped he liked it.  Her food always tasted bland to her.  But others, like Frank, one of her business associates, for instance, swore by it.  She could give those Top Chef contestants a run for their money, he always said.
     After preparing a plate for Dutch and one for herself, she sat down at the table, also, Dutch quickly standing slightly until she was seated.  Then they bowed their heads, Dutch said a small prayer, and then they began eating.  It still didn’t taste great to Gina, just okay, and she kept her eyes on the president.  After a few bites, he looked at her.
     “Well?” she said.
     He smiled.  Then started laughing.  His laugh was so heartfelt that it became contagious, and Gina started laughing, too.
     “What?” she wanted to know.  “Is it that good?”
     “No,” he said between laughs, “it’s awful.  Simply awful.”  But he couldn’t stop laughing.  Gina couldn’t either.
     “Then why are you laughing?”
     “Because,” Dutch said, attempting to regain his composure, “you have balls, lady.”       Gina continued laughing, but she didn’t get what he found so funny.  “I have balls because my food is awful?”
     “You had the nerve, the nerve , to cook for the leader of the free world – and you can’t cook!”  Dutch’s laughter went into high gear again.  Gina knew she should have been offended, but she wasn’t.  He was being too honest, and enjoying his honesty, for her to even think about offense.  She laughed, too. 
     As the laughter began to