up on sports highlight shows every now and then. Greg said it took six surgeries and four years before Jack could walk without a brace.
"Kara says she wants us to go out for dinner tonight. Do you think everyone will be OK by themselves for a few hours?"
"Oh, I'll be happy to stick around," Monte interjected, though no one was talking to her. "You two kids go on out and enjoy yourselves."
Sam shot her a warning glance, hoping to God that Monte saw she meant business. "Absolutely, Jack," she said brightly. "Where are we going? What does Kara want me to wear?"
Unless Sam was mistaken, Jack's eyes suddenly flashed with a sparkle that had nothing to do with the reflection from the pool. Then he dragged his gaze from her neck down to her toes and back up again before looking her in the eye. She'd just felt that gaze on every inch of her skin. She felt her cheeks burn, but there was nothing she could do to stop the blush.
"St. Elmo Steak House. So something dressy casual would be fine."
"Great. I haven't been there in years."
"Hmmph," Monte said from behind them. "I never did understand what 'dressy casual' is supposed to mean. You supposed to wear flip-flops with your evening gown or something?"
Sam blinked, plotting exactly how she'd strangle Monte the first chance she got. "Sounds fine, Jack. What time would you like me to be ready?"
"Seven, if that works for you."
Sam was still recovering from the obvious way he'd been checking her out, and her voice might have been a little too chipper when she said, "I work for you, so seven works for me!"
Sam watched, fascinated, as a brief frown of confusion marred Jack's otherwise agreeable expression. He then lowered his gaze to his shoes and shoved his hands in his pockets before he looked up at her again. The frown—and whatever thought had caused it—had passed.
"See you at seven, then. And remind me to dig up a ring in the next couple weeks, OK?"
Sam was wondering how a man goes about "digging up" an engagement ring when she noticed the pool had become silent. All four kids were lined up near the shallow-end steps, listening intently.
Jack noticed the audience, too, and turned on the charm. "How's Park Tudor treating you?"
"It's pretty g-g-good," Greg said.
"Great." Jack looked expectantly at Lily, and Sam hoped her daughter would at least be civil. She watched the girl's dark-rimmed eyes tighten before she smiled. "It's OK, thanks," she said with a shrug. "Some of the kids are real snobs, though."
Jack chuckled. "Everywhere's got its share of snobs, Lily, but you have every right to be there, so don't give them the satisfaction of making you uncomfortable."
"Yeah, I guess," Lily said, then she brightened. "Hey, Jack? You ever go to concerts at the Fieldhouse?"
Sam tried to end this line of questioning. " Lily. . . "
"On occasion. I saw Pearl Jam there a few years ago."
"No way!" Lily's mouth hung open.
"I hear 50 Cent is coming in the spring. Would you guys like to go?"
"I could roll with that," Simon said, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while his eyes widened.
"I'll see what I can do about tickets. In the meantime, I'm on my way to a meeting."
Jack said his good-byes to Monte and the kids, and Sam walked him to the doorway. Sam heard Simon in the background saying, "Naw! He can't get those tickets! The man's fooling with us!"
Sam watched him stroll down the hallway that connected the pool house to the rest of the mansion, noting that he was tall and dark and smooth and impossible to stop staring at.
Jack glanced over his shoulder and said, "Oh, and no flip-flops—and no damn-near passing out."
It had been a long day, and Christy retreated to her office in the Channel 10 studios and shut the door. She groaned with relief as she unzipped her snake-skin boots and yanked her feet from their stylish prisons. She wiggled her toes and tried to get the circulation back in her legs, realizing her wisdom teeth were bugging her again. Someday, she
"Kara says she wants us to go out for dinner tonight. Do you think everyone will be OK by themselves for a few hours?"
"Oh, I'll be happy to stick around," Monte interjected, though no one was talking to her. "You two kids go on out and enjoy yourselves."
Sam shot her a warning glance, hoping to God that Monte saw she meant business. "Absolutely, Jack," she said brightly. "Where are we going? What does Kara want me to wear?"
Unless Sam was mistaken, Jack's eyes suddenly flashed with a sparkle that had nothing to do with the reflection from the pool. Then he dragged his gaze from her neck down to her toes and back up again before looking her in the eye. She'd just felt that gaze on every inch of her skin. She felt her cheeks burn, but there was nothing she could do to stop the blush.
"St. Elmo Steak House. So something dressy casual would be fine."
"Great. I haven't been there in years."
"Hmmph," Monte said from behind them. "I never did understand what 'dressy casual' is supposed to mean. You supposed to wear flip-flops with your evening gown or something?"
Sam blinked, plotting exactly how she'd strangle Monte the first chance she got. "Sounds fine, Jack. What time would you like me to be ready?"
"Seven, if that works for you."
Sam was still recovering from the obvious way he'd been checking her out, and her voice might have been a little too chipper when she said, "I work for you, so seven works for me!"
Sam watched, fascinated, as a brief frown of confusion marred Jack's otherwise agreeable expression. He then lowered his gaze to his shoes and shoved his hands in his pockets before he looked up at her again. The frown—and whatever thought had caused it—had passed.
"See you at seven, then. And remind me to dig up a ring in the next couple weeks, OK?"
Sam was wondering how a man goes about "digging up" an engagement ring when she noticed the pool had become silent. All four kids were lined up near the shallow-end steps, listening intently.
Jack noticed the audience, too, and turned on the charm. "How's Park Tudor treating you?"
"It's pretty g-g-good," Greg said.
"Great." Jack looked expectantly at Lily, and Sam hoped her daughter would at least be civil. She watched the girl's dark-rimmed eyes tighten before she smiled. "It's OK, thanks," she said with a shrug. "Some of the kids are real snobs, though."
Jack chuckled. "Everywhere's got its share of snobs, Lily, but you have every right to be there, so don't give them the satisfaction of making you uncomfortable."
"Yeah, I guess," Lily said, then she brightened. "Hey, Jack? You ever go to concerts at the Fieldhouse?"
Sam tried to end this line of questioning. " Lily. . . "
"On occasion. I saw Pearl Jam there a few years ago."
"No way!" Lily's mouth hung open.
"I hear 50 Cent is coming in the spring. Would you guys like to go?"
"I could roll with that," Simon said, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while his eyes widened.
"I'll see what I can do about tickets. In the meantime, I'm on my way to a meeting."
Jack said his good-byes to Monte and the kids, and Sam walked him to the doorway. Sam heard Simon in the background saying, "Naw! He can't get those tickets! The man's fooling with us!"
Sam watched him stroll down the hallway that connected the pool house to the rest of the mansion, noting that he was tall and dark and smooth and impossible to stop staring at.
Jack glanced over his shoulder and said, "Oh, and no flip-flops—and no damn-near passing out."
It had been a long day, and Christy retreated to her office in the Channel 10 studios and shut the door. She groaned with relief as she unzipped her snake-skin boots and yanked her feet from their stylish prisons. She wiggled her toes and tried to get the circulation back in her legs, realizing her wisdom teeth were bugging her again. Someday, she
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