The Kept Woman (21 page)

"You're such a tease." Sam kept her gaze locked on his, his torture making her wet, the pressure not enough, and she watched as those lively green eyes suddenly went dark and serious. She could see his chin tremble.

"Are you OK?"

He closed his eyes for a second, then looked at her once more. "I've wanted to love you. Do you know that?" He pushed farther into her, and she gasped in surprise and gratitude, immediately feeling her muscles clamp down on his erection.

"I've wanted to know everything about you so that I would know how to make you happy."

He grabbed her hips and slid all the way inside her, impaling her, not letting her go.

"Sweetie, I've wanted you to be mine. For real, for always."

"When did you decide that?"

Jack laughed. "Just now. I want you to stay with me. Don't go after May. Please."

"But Jack—
oh my God
!"

He bit down gently on one nipple, then the other, while moving deep inside her. "Come for me, sweet Sam. Come all over me. I've never felt this way about a woman—
ever
. God, Sam, I want—"

"Whatever you want, it's yours."

"I want you to have my baby."

Jack stopped moving for an instant, then laughed, regaining his rhythm inside her. "Holy hell! I want you to have my baby!"

The alarm ringing in Sam's brain was drowned out by the pleasure as she clutched down in a hot and liquid orgasm that shot her into a swirling, dark place where nothing mattered but Jack, that he was inside her and fucking her, holding her tight and calling her name.

Jack exploded right along with her. And in the time it took for both of them to stop gasping for air, Sam had counted backward and forward through her menstrual cycle—twice—and come to the conclusion that this was the worst possible time for her to have unprotected sex. Unless, of course, she was desperately trying to get pregnant. Then today would have been perfect.

"I'm sorry. I know I should have used a condom."

"Yep. That would have been the wise thing to do."

"I'm sure it will be all right."

"Of course."

After a few minutes of quiet hugging, Sam kissed Jack's cheek and climbed off the worktable, scrambling to find her clothes and boots. "Dakota will be getting up in a few minutes."

In silence, Jack picked up his clothes and put them back on, smoothing out the wrinkles the best he could. Finally he said, "You're angry with me."

"No." Sam suddenly felt exhausted, and she collapsed into her drawing chair, hanging her head and staring at her boots. "Not angry, just confused. Totally confused about what you just said and what we just did and what we're doing. What are we
doing
, Jack? I'm starting to think maybe we're both nuts." Sam raised her eyes to see Jack staring at her with concern. "You're trying to get elected, not fall in love and have babies."

A wry smile appeared on Jack's lips. "I knew there was something I'd overlooked."

Sam tried not to laugh but did anyway. "You're amazing, Jack Tolliver. Sometimes I think you don't even
want
to get elected!" She waited for his comeback, but he didn't have one. "So? Do you?"

"I don't know."

Sam stood up from her chair, her jaw slack. "Huh?"

"I said I don't know. And that's the truth."

Jack walked over to the middle window and clasped his hands behind his back, staring out into the winter afternoon. "Won't the Park Tudor car pool be dropping off Greg and Lily soon?"

"In about a half hour. Now tell me what's going on. Tell me why you're putting yourself through this and, I might add, spending millions of dollars to get somewhere you're not even sure you want to go."

"I'll do a serviceable job in the Senate."

"Only if you truly want to be there. If you don't, you shouldn't run."

Jack turned to her and leaned back against the windowsill, nodding. "All I ever really wanted was football, Sam. I wish you could have known me back then. I was fully alive, truly happy." He stopped suddenly, like that was the end of the conversation.

"Stay right here and talk to me, Jack."

He nodded and took a deep breath. "I don't know why I'm saying all this. I've never told anyone what I think I'm about to tell you. Not even Kara or Stu."

"Maybe it's time you let it out."

He looked at her, tears welling in his eyes, and nodded. "The thing is, one day I had it all—I was breaking every fucking record there was—and the next day, I was dog food. Simple as that, Sam. Everything I'd ever done was instantly blown to hell by the fact that I'd been hit harder and hurt worse than just about anyone who'd ever played the game. And that's. . .that's not—" His voice began to crack and he used the back of his hand to take a quick swipe at his eyes. "That's not what I deserved to be remembered for."

Sam took a step toward him. It killed her to see Jack like this.

He held up his palm. "No, sweetheart. Let me finish this." Jack's beautiful mouth became pulled and thin. "The day we met, I told you that the only things Tolliver men did well were football and politics—do you remember that?"

"I remember."

"Well, that's what I'd always been told. From the time I was a kid, I'd been informed that I'd do football and then I'd do politics, like my dad and his dad. But football was stolen from me—fuckin' ripped away like my muscle from my bone and I never fuckin' got over it!"

He looked away toward the back wall of the studio and took several deep breaths. Sam watched him swallow hard before he could talk. "I missed out on the joy and went right to the obligation and never let that bitterness go. I think I went dead inside. All I wanted after the injury was distraction—anything to keep my mind off how fuckin' angry I was. Politics was just something to do. Women were a game. I behaved like a real dick."

Sam raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

He looked up at her and produced a sheepish smile. "So basically, the day you met me in Stuart's office, not only was I a dick, but I was a dead man."

Sam inched closer still and stroked his shoulder lightly. "You looked pretty good for a dickhead dead guy."

Jack cracked a smile, pushed himself from the windowsill, and walked by Sam, letting his hand brush across her cheek as he went. He walked to the far window and gazed out. "I've been going through the motions, you know? Doing what MDT expected of me just to get her off my back. Never feeling any real passion for what I was doing with my life or anyone in it. Never getting close enough to a woman to risk getting slammed to the ground and having it hurt as bad as my knee."

Sam cocked her head to the side and studied his wide, strong back. "Excuse me for asking, but when were you ever hurt by a woman? I must have missed that story."

Jack looked over his shoulder. "Oh, you know. The first woman in my life—my mother. Not exactly the warmest female on earth."

"So I've seen."

Jack turned back to face Sam and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know about the twins, right? Well, when they died, that was the end of everything. I never felt like I had a mom after that. She was empty. Colder than ever. And all she cared about was my dad, and I seemed to always be in the way, never what she really wanted, which was the twins. So, yeah. Marguerite slammed me to the ground real good. And I never forgot it."

Sam reached out and touched his hard forearm. He uncrossed his arms and grabbed her hand in his.

"But you took the risk with me. Why, Jack?"

He laughed. "Maybe because you're such a little pipsqueak that I know you can't do shit to me."

Sam smiled at that. "How sweet."

"Or maybe it's just that you're the most loving, warm, normal, real, hardworking woman I've ever met. I see you with your kids and Simon, and with Monte, and I'm in awe of you. I think your warmth has thawed me out."

"You're not so dead anymore."

"I have a pulse these days."

"I can attest to that."

"And I'm not such a dick."

"I never thought you were."

"It's all because of you, Sam. You know that?"

She shook her head. "It's because of
you
. You decided it was more fun to be alive than dead. You decided to let down your guard and let someone see your heart. I'm glad you chose me, Jack, because I really love that heart of yours."

He squeezed her hand tighter.

"So are you going to stay in the race or not?"

"I think I am."

"Why? What are you doing it for?"

Jack laced his fingers with Sam's and stared at their joined hands for several long moments. When he looked up, he had a pensive smile on his face. "I think my motivation would be a who, not a what. I'd do it for you and Lily and Greg and Ben, if that would be OK with you. For Monte and Simon and for everyone who needs someone to speak up for them."

"Now that sounds like a man running for office."

"Do I have your vote?"

"You can have my vote and anything else you want."

The door opened with a creak, and Sam had just enough time to pull her hand away from Jack's before a half-asleep Dakota stumbled into the room. He was still wearing his pajama bottoms, which was never a good omen.

"Change me now, Mommy."

Jack straightened up and gave Sam a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Let me handle this one."

The man had no idea what he was volunteering for, and Sam did her best to convince him that now was not the time to broaden his horizons. But Jack wouldn't listen.

"I can handle one wet diaper, Sam. I was an NFL quarterback, the former lieutenant governor of Indiana. I'm going to be a U.S. Senator. You just stay in here and sketch and I'll let you know when the mission is accomplished."

Sam shrugged. "Go for it, big guy." She watched Dakota take Jack's hand and follow him out of the studio, walking like a cowboy packin' some serious heat. Sam shook her head, figuring that a man who'd been in politics as long as Jack had was probably better equipped for the job than most.

Jack looked down at the kid, happily scanning a little plastic book while yet another gullible grown-up tended to his unpleasant personal hygiene. Jack laughed to himself. This went way beyond the toddler equivalent of reading
Sports Illustrated
in the john—this kid looked like a king who couldn't be bothered with wiping himself.

"This is no way to live, boy," Jack announced, throwing the disgusting wad of plastic and wipes in the diaper pail, deciding he would use the toddler's basic male nature to get him out of this rut once and for all. "Hey, Ben? You want to play a game with me?"

The child blinked and looked askance at Jack over his Thomas the Tank Engine picture book. "Hide-and-seek?"

"Nope."

"Catch?"

"Not exactly."

"What?"

"I'm going to show you how to do something only men can do—girls can never do this no matter how hard they try. You interested?"

The child put the book aside and looked down the length of his belly to judge how well Jack completed his assignment. He pulled on the diaper tabs to make sure they'd hold. "Did you 'member to use the wipes, Mr. Jack?"

"I remembered, champ."

"OK, let's play."

Jack helped the kid off the changing table and headed to the bathroom across the hall. The child stopped in his tracks and shook his head. "No. No, no, no, no, no."

Jack had to admire Ben's resolve. It would definitely come in handy in his future, if only he could harness it for good and not this kind of pure evil.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, man, not to worry. I'm just washing my hands. Stay out in the hall and wait for me, please, because there's nothing to see in here."

As he hoped, Ben immediately entered the bathroom with an expectant look on his face. He glanced nervously at the toilet, then averted his eyes.

Jack knew he had to move fast. He needed something that would float. Something colorful would be best. Something that could be flushed without destroying the whole plumbing system.

He wracked his brain for anything that might be upstairs in the guest wing of the house. "Hey, Ben, would you do me a favor? Do you know what sticky notes are?"

Ben frowned. "No."

"The tiny square notes you stick on things? Sometimes they come in colors like yellow or pink or blue. I bet Greg might have some on his desk."

"Oh, sure. I like those."

"Can you get some? We'll meet back here and play our game."

"OK, Mr. Jack."

After more than five minutes, Jack's hands were pruning, but the child did return with a little robin's-egg blue pack of sticky notes.

"Why are you still in the bathroom, Mr. Jack?"

"My hands were real dirty. Hey, thanks, man!" Jack toweled off quickly, raised the toilet seat, and threw a few tiny pieces of blue paper into the water.

"Uh-oh," Ben said.

"Check this out. Girls can't do this."

"Really?"

"I'm totally serious." Jack unzipped his fly and set his sights on the paper, dunking it and sending it spinning. "Hey, would you look at that! I got one!"

Ben walked a step closer and peered into the toilet, his eyes growing big with interest. He pointed a little chubby finger. "Get that one!"

"No problem, kid. They can run, but they can't hide!"

Ben was already wrestling with his pants, and Jack was impressed with how quickly the kid could drop trou. He stood next to the toilet and tried to shoot, but his aim was a bit off and he struck the back of the toilet.

"Uh-oh."

"No problem, pal. Happens to the best of us. Girls can't do that, either."

"Really?"

"At least I don't think so. Need a better angle?"

Ben nodded and Jack lifted him up a bit so he could shoot down into the bowl. "I got 'em!" Ben cried.

"You did!"

"I got that guy, too!"

"Nice work, ace."

"Die, die, die!"

OK, maybe that was enough. Jack put the kid down and zipped up his own pants just as he noticed Sam standing in the hallway outside the bathroom door, her mouth and eyes wide open. Jack put a finger to his lips, then helped Ben with his pants.