Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3) Page 9

  “Good. I don’t want you to think you can’t drink around me. I can handle it.” Shannon could handle Jonah’s having a drink, but that was about it. Suddenly, everything about the man—and her feelings—seemed unmanageable.

  The conversation in the car hovered. Shannon decided she would always tell the truth about her history. She couldn’t sugarcoat the mistakes she’d made. Jonah seemed to take it in stride. He hadn’t dropped her off on the side of the road and sped away.

  She looked around her at the crowd of diamond-studded women and men who wore power like a custom-tailored suit. Jonah clicked right into the place while Shannon fidgeted again with her hem. The dress fell to a few inches above her knee. She saw numerous women in minuscule cocktail dresses and flashy high heels.

  Her own simple black dress seemed almost sedate by comparison. Maybe that would work in her favor. Flash on her might come across as cheap. That’s the last way Shannon wanted Jonah to see her.

  * * *

  Jonah watched Shannon take in the scene. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her here. She looked down at her dress for at least the tenth time since they’d arrived. Did she think she hadn’t dressed appropriately?

  She looked stunning. The simplicity of her dress elegantly highlighted her slim figure. It draped over the gentle curves of her body and plunged enough in the front to give just a taste of cleavage.

  The hint of plump creamy skin sent his mind back to fucking her on her living room floor. He could practically feel her nipple standing at attention on his tongue. Jonah tore his eyes away from her breasts. Leering would hardly make her more comfortable.

  He spooked her enough with his questions about her daughter. Jonah gave her credit for her unflinchingly honest answers. What she said didn’t come as a surprise. He guessed that she overcame some harsh realities in her past. For now, Jonah left his tight bundle of mixed emotions unexamined and focused on the present.

  When he looked up, he caught the eye of one of the last people he wanted to see.

  “Oh, God,” he mumbled. He pasted on his brightest smile to mask his irritation.

  “Jonah! How are you?”

  The older, gray-haired man extended his hand over Shannon’s shoulder. Jonah pulled her to his side and shook the man’s hand.

  “Mr. Cornell,” he announced.

  “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. I—Oh, I’m sorry,” the man apologized, noticing Shannon. “Who is this little lady?”

  “This is Shannon Clifton. We’re having a quick drink before dinner. Shannon, this is Lester Cornell. Lester and my father have a standing golf game. Once a week? Twice a week?”

  Jonah threw the question at Lester. His father and Lester Cornell had a mutually beneficial friendship based on big business and boys-will-be-boys hijinks whenever they got the chance.

  “Oh, hell, just once a week. I wish I could squeeze in two. Where’d he find you, darlin’?” Lester sneered, settling his blurry-eyed gaze on Shannon.

  She opened her mouth to answer, but Jonah cut her off.

  “We have mutual friends,” Jonah evaded.

  “Lucky you. Anyway, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Your father mentioned that you were planning a congressional run. My eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. We could all use—”

  “I haven’t decided to run for office. I’m still weighing my options.”

  Jonah cut the man off and gritted his teeth. Then, he glanced at Shannon. Her eyes widened.

  Lester pressed on.

  “With the right backing, you’d be a shoo-in. Think of all those development projects you have going south of town. It’d be a lot easier to grease the wheels with a seat in Washington,” Lester urged.

  “Or a lot tougher with all the competing interests I’d suddenly have to serve,” Jonah countered. “My father would like me to run, and I haven’t said no. But I’m not committing to anything right now, and I believe our table is ready. Good seeing you, Lester.”

  “Likewise. Think about your future, Jonah. That’s all I’m saying,” he entreated. “Nice meeting you. Shannon, was it?”

  Lester grinned again and surveyed the neckline of Shannon’s dress. Jonah responded by winding his arm around her waist and tossing a twenty in front of the bartender. With his hand firmly on the small of her back, he pressed her forward through the growing crowd at the bar.

  Shannon gave Lester a nod goodbye as they passed.

  “You don’t like your father’s friend?” she asked.

  “No—especially when he’s been drinking.”

  “He seemed harmless enough,” Shannon replied with a shrug.

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  “Are you sure you don’t just want to keep me under wraps?”

  Jonah stopped and looked down at her. “What?”

  “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

  The maître d’ walked them to a quiet table in an alcove between the bar and a more open seating area beyond it. Shannon’s eyes roamed around her, and she wound a curl around her finger as the man set a menu in front of her.

  “Are you okay?” Jonah asked. “I hope Lester didn’t upset you.”

  “No. It’s fine. I’ve seen my share of roughnecks who get their drink on and lose control. Lester might have been a little sloppy, but happy hour does typically involve getting happy.”

  Jonah tilted his head as if considering her point. “I still don’t like him.”

  Shannon raked her eyes up and down the menu and gasped.

  “This place is really expensive,” she commented, then shrank back into the button-tufted leather of the booth. “I shouldn’t bring up money, but I can’t help it. Seventy-five dollars for a steak?”

  Jonah ignored his brief twist of embarrassment. He knew her last husband couldn’t have ever taken her to a nice restaurant, but hadn’t Jeff? True, Jeff hadn’t been wealthy when he married Shannon, but he hadn’t been a pauper. Jonah hoped Shannon wouldn’t get rattled every time he took her somewhere new.

  At the same time, he enjoyed that, for once, a woman didn’t walk into the date feeling entitled to Jonah’s monetary attention. She’d get used to his life and appreciate him more than any of his past girlfriends had.

  “They have some of the best food in the city. You should try whatever you want. It’s our first date. Let me impress you.” He tried to ease her discomfort with a laugh.

  “It’s not a regular first date, remember?” she prodded and returned his awkward laughter.

  They focused on their menus. Jonah picked up the hefty wine list. Normally, he and his date might split a bottle. Tonight, he wrinkled his nose, noting the inferiority of the few wines offered by the glass.

  * * *

  Shannon stared at the menu, trying to focus on the words, not the numbers. The expense wasn’t the only thing distracting her from deciding what to eat.

  Did Jonah really plan to run for Congress? He mentioned it before, but not with serious consideration. As a politician’s wife, Shannon would be a scandal. Those women graduated from college, wore prim suits, and killed the ozone with tornadoes of hairspray.

  Shannon gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was she worried about? She and Jonah weren’t getting married. What kind of wife she’d be was beyond irrelevant.

  Plus, she’d gone and mentioned how much everything cost. The words had flown out of her mouth at the sight of twenty-dollar salads and forty-dollar chicken.

  With money dripping around her, Shannon had resolved to stay neutral. Don’t look awestruck. Don’t drop anything. Don’t trip. Look classy and comfortable. She felt like she was wandering alone in the woods. Don’t make any sudden movements to alert the predators.

  Then, with one sentence, she embarrassed herself. And Jonah could smooth talk over anything, but Shannon could tell he’d been embarrassed too.

  “Are you up for an appetizer? I had my eye on the baked goat cheese.” Jonah’s voice broke through her mental self-flagellation.

  Shanno
n had eaten goat cheese before. She liked it. Everything on the menu made her mouth water. “That sounds delicious. I think I’m going to have the duck.”

  “I’ve had the duck. You’ll love it. I think I’ll get the steak,” he said and leaned in. “We’ll get a couple of extra plates and share.”

  Shannon exhaled. She could persevere past her self-doubt enough to at least enjoy a decadent meal and Jonah’s good spirits.

  “Could you also order me another Coke? I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

  The women’s restroom at Murray’s struck Shannon with as much awe as the bar had. Granite tiles and rich wood greeted her as she swung open the door.

  On her way to the stalls, she passed an older woman parked in front of the sinks. She oversaw a counter filled with hairspray, mouthwash, and various other toiletries. Her name tag read, “Roberta.”

  The woman’s presence creeped Shannon out. Who’d want to sit in a bathroom listening to rich ladies do their business all night? But, hey, it’s a living, she thought and smiled at the woman before heading into the stall.

  Shannon hurried, wanting to get in and out of there as quickly as possible.

  She hustled out and washed her hands at the sink, feeling the attendant’s eyes on her. Flipping off the water, Shannon searched the wall for a paper towel dispenser or hand dryer. Nothing.

  “Here you go,” Roberta said, handing her a small, cotton hand towel. The older woman chuckled and opened her mouth to say something else, but a surgically enhanced blonde at the next sink interjected.

  “Don’t forget to tip her,” she chastised, pouring over Shannon from head to toe and smirking.

  Shannon paled and looked at her purse. She hadn’t brought any cash. She turned to the attendant to apologize. The snarky woman next to her collapsed into full, derisive laughter.

  Shannon caught a reflection of her own flushed face before twisting around to see a piece of her hem tacked up into her underwear. No wonder the women kept staring at her.

  All night, Shannon had tried to hold herself together and not do anything to highlight how out of place she felt—no, how out of place she was. Now, she’d literally shown her ass to one of these uppity, judgmental crows.

  The taller blonde somehow managed to make her immoveable, collagen-plumped face convey a haughty smugness.

  “Maybe you can check your thong for dollar bills.” The woman flicked a long, red-tipped finger at Shannon’s backside.

  “Maybe your fake lips would enjoy kissing my real ass,” Shannon shot back.

  She yanked her dress down and smoothed it. She had to assume her words hit their mark. The woman’s face stayed still except for her lips, which puckered like she’d sucked a lemon. The bitch-faced woman tossed her frosted hair over her shoulder and strode out.

  Roberta guffawed.

  “Don’t you worry about tipping me. That comeback was worth more than a couple of dollars. Have a good night, honey.”

  “Thank you, Roberta.”

  She pulled her shoulders back and stalked out of the bathroom. When she reached the dining area, Shannon found Jonah’s eyes watching for her. A grin spread on his face when he found her, and he winked.

  Screw that bitch. Whatever would happen between her and Jonah, Shannon could revel in the truth that, for now, he had chosen her. He wanted her. She could spend their time together enjoying every minute of him and the world newly open to her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jonah knew to interpret his father’s invitation to the driving range on Sunday as the first shot of war. Jonah hated golf as much as his father loved it.

  For some reason, his father thought golf the perfect setting to deliver bad news. His parents came close to divorce the summer before Jonah started high school. Tom told him between strokes on the sixteenth hole. When his grandfather got cancer, Tom informed Jonah on the ninth tee box at Pebble Beach.

  Perhaps that’s why, despite their regular outings, Jonah hated golf. It was often the harbinger of trouble.

  After arriving at the course, the pair of them hit balls for about thirty minutes. A natural competition sprang up between them. Jonah had youth on his side, but his father played golf two or three days a week.

  Jonah planted his feet and lined up another drive, willing himself to push the ball farther than his father’s last effort. He swung his club back and at the top of his motion, his father’s deep voice made him hitch, and he pulled down his club.

  “I had lunch with Lester Cornell yesterday.”

  “Oh,” Jonah said, re-establishing his stance. He managed a smooth backswing this time and came down with crushing smack on the ball. He got good distance, but it fell short of his dad’s longest drive.

  “You’re seeing that girl.”

  “Shannon.”

  “Am I to bother learning her name?”

  “Yes. I’m bringing her to the Magnolia ball, so you’ll be having dinner with her. If you don’t want to look like a complete ass, you’ll learn her name.”

  Jonah glared at his father through his Oakley sport sunglasses.

  “Sometimes I wonder how I got a son like you.”

  “By being a father like you.”

  “Are we going to argue about this? Surely, you know how this will end.”

  “Pretend I don’t.”

  “She’s not the girl for you, Jonah,” Tom sighed with exasperated insistence.

  “You haven’t even met her.” Meeting Shannon wouldn’t change things, and Jonah knew it, but the unfairness of his father’s judgment still galled him.

  “I don’t know why I should. From how you and Vivienne described her, I’m sure she has her charms. Women often do, but typically, you indulge yourself in private.”

  “What did Lester tell you? That we were having sex at the bar?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. I know you do because you’re playing obtuse.” Tom shook his head and re-gripped his club. A whizz of air and a thwack of the ball followed. “Not every woman who puts a tent in your pants is marriage material. That’s Life 101.”

  Jonah swung his club upside down and let the shaft fall through his fingers until the head met his hand. He snatched the sunglasses from his face.

  “She is a good person. A perfect person? No. But she tries. You wouldn’t know the first thing about overcoming what she’s been through. Yet, you stand here judging her as unworthy of what? Of who? Us?” Jonah smirked and rolled his eyes, thinking of the time he spent in the past year cleaning up after his father’s messes. “Honestly, Dad.”

  “I have some experience with this, as you know. A new kind of woman is exciting. She has no breeding. No experience. She gets excited about little things like a nice restaurant or a trip to Europe. Everything is new and shiny in her eyes. You feel like Superman. We like to pretend that it’s romantic—this Eliza Doolittle routine—but in the end, water finds its level, Jonah. Even George Bernard Shaw saw that.”

  His father’s words wriggled their way to his psyche, but Jonah instinctively rejected them. He wasn’t improving Shannon. Shannon could improve herself—with or without him. Jonah admired her for it. Tom Moran didn’t admire many women, and he was a thorough snob. Thus, Jonah found the older man’s opinion of Shannon inevitable and not worth noting.

  “Is that how you saw Arianna Stiges?”

  “What? Why are you covering that old ground?”

  “Old ground? She’s a person, Dad. A person that you shuttled aside, not caring what happened to her and to her family. You—”

  “Don’t talk to me about Arianna. She would have ruined our lives, and for God’s sake, don’t compare your girl to her. Whatever problems she had—and they were plenty—she was an educated, sophisticated woman. Hell, one of the worst parts of letting Ari go was losing her talent. She had a hell of a knack for negotiation.”

  Ari? His father had never used that diminutive in speaking of his most notable mistress. Hearing Tom speak with such familiarity made Jonah cringe.

>   “I suppose she did. She was able to squeeze what she could out of you after you had her blackballed all over town.”

  Tom glared at his son. “I know how easy it is to pretend that I’m the villain in every scenario, but you can’t fault me for being a pragmatic man who has my priorities clearly defined. Instead, you might learn from it. My imperfections don’t mean that I’m always wrong. This woman will bring you nothing but heartache and then saunter out of your life with a chunk of your inheritance. That is what these kinds of women do.”

  Jonah clutched his club and stepped toward his father. “You don’t have to like her, but you do have to be nice to her because I am bringing her to the charity event. And I am going to keep dating her. So, sit back and get used to it.”

  “Fine,” his father told him. “But be careful. Dollar signs in a woman’s eyes are alluringly shiny at first.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Jonah took one more emphatic swing at the golf ball before cursing at its hooking trajectory and calling it a day.

  * * *

  With her second ex-husband still God knew where, Shannon continued to compromise with Jeff on her visitation with Olivia. The situation piqued her, but she once again agreed to exercise her rights at Jeff and Taryn’s sprawling house.

  She arrived on Saturday, taking Olivia bowling at an entertainment complex in Jeff’s neighborhood. Then, she brought Olivia back for the most awkward slumber party ever.

  The four of them ordered pizza, watched movies, and then Shannon and Olivia camped out on the floor of the little girl’s bedroom.

  On Sunday morning, Olivia awakened her with news of waffles and bacon. Shannon threw on her robe and shuffled downstairs to the expansive, eat-in chef’s kitchen.

  In the center of the room, Jeff stood behind a huge island flanked by counter-height bar chairs. Taryn sat on one end, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Jeff smiled and gestured for them to have a seat at the island.