As she walked around the pool, she glanced at the mansion Lars kept calling a hunting lodge and saw nothing she was even remotely interested in pursuing—with the possible exception of Billy Kent.Not that feeling bored was all that unusual. Sherice had been bored ever since she’d walked down the aisle to join Lars Toleffson at the altar. Getting Lars to that altar had been fun. Having Lars afterward was a lot less so.Lars was wearing his old swimming suit along with a knit shirt. She’d bought him a classy black Speedo, but he persisted in wearing a suit that made him look like an aging surfer. Typical. Lars would never look like a billionaire, much less be one.Sherice had started reading about billionaires and their wives around the time she’d realized her looks were her greatest asset, probably sometime in grade school. Urbandale, Iowa, hadn’t provided much in the way of role models, but People magazine filled in the blanks. Women who married billionaires got to wear great clothes and even better jewelry.
