Authors: Susan Donovan
Christy frowned.
"And he makes me laugh. Jack's got a such a wonderful self-deprecating sense of humor."
Christy nearly choked. "I do believe that's the first time anyone's ever used that phrase in conjunction with Jack. Did you forget to take your medication today or something?"
Sam ignored her. "And ironically, even though he's a politician, he's a private person. I think it's because he's been through so much with his injury and rehabilitation. But he's opened up to me. He's shown me his pain and his hopes and I love him for that. I'm honored to have him as my friend and my future husband."
Christy nodded slowly, taking it all in. "Kara's sure trained you well. Please let her know that I'd be impressed if I weren't so nauseated." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And to think—on top of all that, Mr. Sensitivity just happens to be loaded. Or maybe you hadn't noticed?"
"I noticed."
"How convenient for you and your children."
"I would have loved Jack if he were a car mechanic."
"Or a poor glassblower?"
Sam felt a bolt of rage run through her limbs. She didn't like this woman. Not at all. And Sam was getting the feeling that this little bathroom stall get-together was more than an ambush—it was a direct threat of some kind.
"I'm not sure what you're looking for, Christy, but I'm afraid you're not going to find it here."
"Oh. Now that's where you're wrong. I'm going to find exactly what I'm looking for and you're going to give it to me, whether you realize you're doing it or not."
Sam frowned. "I don't think I understand."
Christy leaned in, her tiny pink nose just inches from Sam's face. "You and your kids materializing at Jack's side right after Ditto bowed out was a ridiculously obvious move, Ms. Monroe. I would have thought Jack was smarter than that, but I suspect it was Kara's idea."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"I know you two are not really engaged." Christy yanked Sam's left hand up to inspect the ring, which shut her up for a moment. "Nice touch."
"It's very beautiful, isn't it?"
Christy narrowed her eyes. "I know this is all for the benefit of his campaign and I suspect he's paying you. I mean, really—you're
so
not his type! He'd never marry a divorced woman your age who had kids! A hairstylist? It's ridiculous! And I'm going to prove it." She leaned away, apparently satisfied with herself, and Sam noticed that Christy's jaw seemed a little puffy. "That man won't be able to run for the zoning commission when I get this story. You can pass that on."
"Thanks. I will. Now, if you'll excuse me." Sam reached for the door latch, but unbelievably, Christy knocked her hand away.
"Don't touch me," Sam said, all sense of play gone from her voice. "I will file charges."
"Actually, I envision charges being filed against you and Jack both when the truth comes out."
Sam shook her head. "You know, I haven't been in a fight in the girls' bathroom since ninth grade and I'm way overdressed for one today, but I swear, if you don't move your blond highlights away from that door, you're going to regret it."
Christy didn't budge. "This is your last chance, Ms. Monroe. You tell me what the real story is with Jack and things will go much easier for you in the long run."
"Get away from the door."
"I have ways to find out the truth whether you cooperate or not."
"You're crazy."
"All right—so tell me what his scar looks like, then. If you know him so well, then tell me what his bad knee looks like. He's psycho about not letting anyone see how screwed up it is."
That was news to Sam, since he'd never tried to hide it from her. She shrugged. "Well, there's a scar about six inches long that runs up the center of his kneecap and one about four inches that runs up the back of his knee. He's lost most sensation there, so when I kiss him behind his knee he can't feel it."
Christy snarled.
"He has two deep incisions on the outside of his thigh. There are several smaller marks where he had arthroscopic surgery later on. And his left calf looks a little misshapen from being reattached." Sam smiled generously. "And by the way, he has the cutest little mole on the inside of his left leg, about an inch from his penis."
Christy's mouth fell open.
Sam took advantage of her surprise by grabbing the latch and pulling the door open, trapping Christy against the wall as she made her escape.
It was another three hours before Sam could tell anyone about her restroom rendezvous, because once the debate was over, Jack dropped in on four network mobile news sets and then made appearances at the local Muncie station's eleven o'clock news. It was past one in the morning when Sam sat with Kara in the backseat of Stuart's BMW, while Jack sat in the front. Kara and Stuart had been drinking so much coffee throughout the evening that they couldn't stop talking.
"As we've always known, Charlie Manheimer is your only threat. The rest of those schmoes are background noise."
"Yeah," was Jack's one-word response to Stuart's comment.
"He seemed very nice," Sam said, recalling her brief introduction to Manheimer that night, a handsome gentleman in his late sixties with clear blue eyes and stark white hair.
"Of course he
seems
nice," Kara said. "He's a three-term congressman. He's got the act down by now."
Sam frowned and looked out at Highway 69 passing by in a dark blur. "Are there any just plain good folks in politics? Who actually care about people more than power and ego?" No one answered her. "OK, maybe that was a naïve question but I was just curious."
"Basically,
hell
no," Stuart said with a laugh.
"I think there are many politicians who earnestly care about their constituents," Kara corrected him, then turned to Sam. "But earnestness doesn't get you into national office—money does."
"And it's a damn shame," Jack said, turning around.
Stuart caught Sam's eye in the rearview mirror. "Am I dropping you off at Sunset Lane, Sam?"
Before Sam could respond, Jack said, "Since you and Kara live downtown, just drop Sam at my place and I'll drive her home."
"You sure you don't mind?"
"It's no problem."
Sam felt Kara's keen stare on the side of her face. It was the perfect time to tell everyone about her ladies' room assault.
"She did
what
?" Kara nearly jumped out of her seat belt.
"Oh, man," Stu said.
Jack had turned all the way around to study Sam, his mouth tight. "Did she hurt you?"
"Of course not. I could take her out if I had to."
"Can I watch?" Stuart said.
Jack laughed.
Kara didn't. "She said she knows Jack is paying you?"
Sam hadn't often seen Kara that worried.
"She said she suspects he's paying me, because I'm so not Jack's type."
One of Jack's dark eyebrows arched high on his forehead. "Oh, really?"
"Yes." Sam looked down at her hands folded in her lap and fought back tears. She'd been over-the-top emotional the last few days, and it was annoying. She took a breath and looked up again. "Christy said you'd never marry someone my age who was divorced and had three kids, especially someone who was a hairstylist. She said it was obvious we were brought in just for the election."
"Damn," Stu said.
"The contract is a private matter," Kara said, reassuring herself as much as Sam, it seemed. "Christy has no access to your banking records, Sam. She's not a cop and even then it takes a court order. She's just trying to intimidate you."
"We all know she's jealous," Stu said, turning down the car's heat. "She's pissed that she's not the woman at Jack's side right now."
"Oh," Sam said quietly. "I guess I didn't realize they were that serious."
"We weren't," Jack said.
"That woman would do anything for a story this big," Kara said. "She's convinced she's national network material and just needs one big break. Well, she's not getting her big break here, that's for damn sure."
The rest of the way back to the city, Sam kept her eyes closed as if she were asleep. She wasn't. She was exhausted and felt incredibly sad, too hot, and a little dizzy, but there was no way she could sleep.
She wondered how Jack could have ever been interested in someone like Christy Schoen, even casually. She knew that there had been many women in his life, but she'd always convinced herself that there was something exceptional about each one. Christy was pretty, in a high school cheerleader kind of way, but she was plastic and mean and selfish. How could the same man who was attracted to
that
be attracted to her?
"Every time I saw you out there in the audience, I wanted to rip that beautiful suit off your body and molest you."
"Was this before or after Manheimer's family values speech?"
Jack chuckled and continued to push Sam through his living room, past the kitchen and dining room, and back toward his bedroom.
"Is this the grand tour of your condo? Because it's hard to see much walking backward like this."
"This is the grand tour of my sheets, baby."
Jack was so turned on he couldn't believe it. Samantha was an irresistible combination of traits all squeezed inside one petite, sweet, steady woman. It seemed even being trapped in a bathroom stall with Christy Schoen hadn't fazed her. Sam was a marvel. A warrior princess. And sexy as hell.
"I love you, Samantha."
The shock in Samantha's eyes was compounded by the unceremonious way he'd just dumped her on his unmade bed. He threw his body over hers.
"I love you so much. I want you and the kids to move in with me after the primary. Seriously. I don't give a damn who thinks what. Be mine, Sam. Please."
Her sweet little red mouth opened in awe and Jack didn't wait for an answer. He just attacked her, covered her mouth and chin and face and throat in kisses, moved her hands up over her head, and showed her what she meant to him.
She was a treasure. He unbuttoned the front of her suit jacket and spread his fingers wide to grasp her smooth, pale waist. He reached around and undid the side zipper on her skirt, pulling until it cleared her hips. He kissed her navel, roamed his hands over her little round belly, slipped his tongue under the band of what had obviously become Sam's special occasion panties—the infamous red thong. He was going to buy her dozens more.
It took him only a few moments to get the thong and skirt completely off her body, followed by her jacket and bra, Sam's moans urging him on. Soon she was dressed only in a pair of chocolate brown hold-up stockings and a pair of sexy high heels, her little pussy open and swollen for him already.
"I love you, Sam. Please, God, tell me you love me, too."
Her delicate arms went around his body and she gripped him tight. Her lips felt so good on his face and he marveled at the urgent way her hands pulled at his clothes. "I love you, Jack. I've loved you right from the start. I couldn't defend myself."
He helped her struggle with his tie and dress shirt, then ripped his undershirt over his head. "Defend yourself? From little ole me?"
Sam laughed just as he raised and separated her thighs, licking along the length of her slit. She tasted salty and sweet and potent, and Jack wanted to drown in that damp heaven.
"You're just too good at this," she groaned. "I couldn't resist you."
Jack stopped long enough to correct her. "No baby, you're the one who's good. You're the one who's irresistible."
"Maybe we're just good together," she whispered, digging her nails into his shoulders. "And maybe there's no reason to try to resist each other anymore."
"I can't think of a single one."
Jack dragged his lips up the front of her body and kissed her hard, giving her a taste of herself. He felt her hips start to undulate beneath him and he felt certain he would die if he couldn't get inside her.
"Fuck me now, Sam," he said, rolling over on his back, pulling her with him. He watched in wonder as she spread her thighs and slowly lowered herself on his erection. There was no condom and no time to worry about that fact. She was around him, gripping him, milking him with her body, those gorgeous blue eyes looking right into his soul.
He put his hands on her hips to guide her, making sure her movements were slow and encompassed him along his entire length, from balls deep to the very tip and back again.
"You like that, Jack?"
"It's the most amazing thing I've ever felt. It's always like this with you. Why didn't I meet you years ago?"
"Because you were a football star and I was a hairdresser with a husband and kids."
"Right." Jack reached up and wrapped his arms around Sam's delicate frame, pulling her down so that her breasts were crushed against his chest. "I'm so in love with you, sweetie. Do you know that?"
He felt Sam's head nodding up and down against his shoulder. He stroked her back.
"I am in love with you, too, Jack."
He rolled Sam over onto her back again and propped himself up on his hands. He loved looking down at her whole body, so creamy and small and female. It felt like everything he'd ever done with any other woman had only been a dry run. Nothing ever felt this complete, this right.
Sam screamed out when he bit her nipple, and he could feel her coming all over him. "Yes, Sam, let it go. Give me everything, sweetheart." It was astounding how hot she felt to his touch, so full and sweet, with her scent rich and heavy in the air.
Sam pulled his mouth to hers roughly, and they kissed each other hard, sealing in his love for her and her love for him as his body roared and erupted inside her.
Jack let himself swim in the warm comfort of Sam's arms, still inside her, his heart and soul at rest, and he suddenly needed her to understand something. Jack rolled to the side and pulled her tight into his arms.
"You really are my type, Sam." He stroked her curls while she snuggled closer, her breath warm on his chest. "You are what I have always wanted, and I was about to give up that I'd ever find you."