The Kept Woman Read Free Page A

thing—voters want to support you, but they can't get over your reputation as a player, especially women voters. That's all that's keeping you from winning, Jack. The money is there—the Tolliver name still opens checkbooks—and we're already well on our way to the three million it will take for this campaign. But honestly, I don't think there's enough money in Fort Knox to get you elected unless you make a gesture of the grandest kind."
    Jack squeezed his eyes shut and let out a hiss of disgust. Kara was pretty sure it was self-directed.
    "You've got to show voters that you're not the same man who was caught ogling a speaker's booty at a teachers' convention two years ago! They have to see that you've changed. That you have a new perspective on life and family and can better represent hardworking Hoosiers in our nation's capital." Kara paused, making sure Jack was following along. He seemed less pissed, so she continued.
    "It's creative campaign strategy. It's a business arrangement. It's a way to tweak your private life into shape on incredibly short notice."
    "Oh my God," Jack mumbled.
    Kara smiled big. "Let's say Sam Monroe and her kids hang around for six months or so, then after the primary you can have a quiet, amicable breakup and, once again, ask that the public respect her privacy. No one gets hurt."
    "And how could we be sure she wouldn't talk?"
    "A simple nondisclosure clause. If she talks, she has to give back the money, and she'll want that money. Trust me."
    "Uh-huh."
    "And think about it! Remember how Manheimer droned on at that homeless roundtable about how the Tollivers were too rich to identify with those in need and even owned a mansion that no one even lived in? Hey—Sam and the kids could move in here. It would be seen as an act of compassion and generosity. Am I a genius or what?"
    Kara watched Jack chew his lip. She watched his fiercely intelligent green eyes scan his surroundings, calculating the truth of her observations, weighing the risks of her plan, and plotting his next move. Kara had known Jack since their freshman year in Bloomington. Jack was sharp. He was a man who could think on his feet, keep a clear view of what was critically important, and make his move right in the nick of time. It's what had once made him the NFL's hottest quarterback. It's what made him a natural politician, like his father and his father before him.
    Kara waited for Jack to say something—anything. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jack's bright green eyes flashed and he gave her a decisive nod, exhibiting the kind of clarity of purpose he'd need to pull this off. At that moment, Kara felt truly proud of Jack the politician—and Jack the man—and waited for his pronouncement.
    "By any chance, is this woman a redhead?"
     

    Sam eased her two o'clock client under the heat lamp with a cup of chamomile tea and a copy of People magazine, set the timer for twenty minutes, greeted her two-thirty client with a smile and sent her off with an apprentice for a shampoo, then ran to the kitchen at the back of the salon. At the most, she had ten minutes to eat something and call the evil Mrs. Brashears, administrator of Wee Ones Academy.
    Sam hopped up on a countertop, grabbed the cordless phone, and took a bite out of her now-cold Taco Bell chicken-stuffed burrito.
    "Mrs. Brashears?"
    "Well, hello, Ms. Monroe. I was wondering when we were going to hear from you."
    Sam wiped her mouth on a napkin, realizing that though a week had passed since she received the note, she still hadn't decided how to deal with this latest threat from the Montessori Mafia. Begging had worked in the past, but she had a feeling she'd used up all her sympathy points. And legal action was probably not an option because, as far as she knew, there was no such thing as discrimination against the potty challenged.
    "Dakota is showing little or no progress," Mrs. Brashears said, her voice dripping with concern. "Have you found other