Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3) (8 page)

“
I
need
to ask off for—not this Saturday—next Saturday,” Shannon told Penny as soon as she got to work the next day.

“Oh. Doing something special with Olivia?” Penny asked.

Shannon tugged on her apron, her eyes darting to the door. “Not this time. I’m…You know that guy? The one in the suits who comes in? He asked me to an event that night.”

“Okay. Sure. I’m surprised you’re willing to miss out on the tips of a weekend shift. He must be pretty special,” Penny commented with a wink.

“I don’t know. He…I…We’re just getting to know each other,” Shannon stammered.

“I’m happy for you. Glad that last guy is history. Glad you’re getting back out there.” Penny paused and bit her lip. “Be careful though. Not that it’s any of my business. I shouldn’t say anything since I’m your boss.”

Shannon smiled. “It’s fine. I hope at this point you’re more than just my boss. I count you as a friend.”

“Good.” Penny sighed. “These kinds of guys. You know, rich guys. They can have attitudes about women who aren’t from their same…who aren’t—in their minds—high-class. Not that you aren’t. It’s just they don’t see people like us the same way. Working people. You know?”

Everything Penny said were thoughts that swam in Shannon’s mind, but she ignored the sinking feeling in her gut and focused on Penny’s good intentions. Her boss didn’t know Jonah or how he wanted to help her, and Shannon leapt to defend him.

“Yes. He’s rich, but that’s not all there is to him. He’s funny and kind. He spends his extra time building houses for the poor.”

Penny held up her hands. “I’m not trying to be critical. I’m sure he’s great. He must be if you like him like you do. Just be careful.”

“About what? I’ve dated poor guys, guys with a little money, and now a guy with a lot of money. You know what? They’re all the same. Some nice. Some pigs. It seems stupid to disqualify him for being successful.”

“Is he successful? Or are his parents? My ex came from money, and when you grow up with everything, you can take things for granted. You can think you’re owed things. It seems you’ve had enough men in your life who act like you owe them because they show up with a smile and a—”

Penny stopped and threw her pen on her desk.

“A smile and a what?”

“Nothing. I shouldn’t say anything like that.” She took a deep breath. “I’m still your boss. If you need off next Saturday, I can arrange that. I hope everything turns out for you, Shannon. I do.”

Tension still feathered Penny’s eyes as she smiled.

“I appreciate that. And the advice. I know you mean well, but Jonah isn’t your ex or my ex. I want to give him a chance to be his own person—without throwing my baggage at him.”

“You’re right. That’s good. I guess I’m just too jaded.”

“That happens. The bad ones do a number on you.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Shannon shook off her conversation with Penny and walked back out to the floor to check in at the hostess stand. Jonah liked her. She knew it. His money had nothing to do with her or their relationship.

W
hen Shannon slipped
into Jonah’s car on Friday night, all she could think about was the price tag. She had gone home and searched “S-Class Mercedes” on the Internet.

They did indeed start at a hundred thousand bucks. Jonah’s car, with its buttery leather, sleek style, and growling engine, cost as much as some people’s houses.

Her first ex-husband, Jeff, lived a high-toned life now, but that’s not how he grew up. Still, even as a teenager, Shannon thought Jeff and his middle-class upbringing had been out of her league. Jonah and his family lived a world above anything she ever experienced.

Shannon stretched her legs to unwind the tension seeping into her body.

“You can put the seat back if you need more room. The controls are on the right-hand side,” Jonah offered.

“Oh, thanks. I’m fine,” Shannon replied and surveyed the view through the window as they flew down the highway into downtown.

The radio played softly, but underneath the hum of the engine, Shannon still heard the melody.

“Oh, turn this up. I love this song.”

Jonah pressed a button on the steering column. Tim McGraw’s twang filled the car with the lyrics of “One of Those Nights.” Shannon leaned back, not able to stop herself from singing a few notes. The song ended, and she sighed.

“Where are we going for dinner? You didn’t say anything except to wear my best dress.”

His instruction had thrown Shannon into a panic. He’d already seen her best dress. Luckily, Kim was about the same size and loaned her a simple black dress with a V-neck bodice and swinging skirt in silk crepe.

Shannon accessorized with some simple silver hoops studded with cubic zirconia, small black handbag, and a pair of sky-high black heels—another splurge at the discount store.

“Murray’s. It’s the best steakhouse in the city with the best bar in the city. They can make any cocktail imaginable, and on a Friday night, nothing beats their scene.”

“I don’t really drink,” Shannon informed him.

She dreaded telling people that she didn’t drink and answering the inevitable follow up questions.

“Oh. May I ask why?”

Shannon took a deep breath. “I had some drug problems. Some recovering addicts I know will drink alcohol occasionally, but I don’t.”

Jonah kept his eyes straight on the road in front of them.

“Oh. Does it bother you to be around drinking? We can go somewhere else,” he suggested.

“No,” Shannon exclaimed quickly. “I’m fine if others drink. And I suppose I could have a drink every once in a while, but I don’t want to risk falling into old habits, I guess.”

Jonah glanced at her. “That makes sense.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Shannon could tell he had a thousand questions.

“You can ask me anything you want,” she chuckled.

“Really?”

“Sure.”

Still, his next question deflated her confidence.

“I’ve been wondering why your daughter lives with your ex-husband. Is this why?”

“Yes.”

The news that she didn’t have custody of her daughter often raised eyebrows. People tend think that women always have custody unless they’re a total mess. Shannon supposed she had been exactly that.

“Do you think you’ll ever get custody back?”

“No. I’m not trying to. You see,” Shannon paused for another breath, “I left Jeff before Olivia was even two years old, and I didn’t see her again until earlier this year. Living with Jeff is all she knows. I wouldn’t take that away from her. I’m working to get more extended visitation than I have now, but that’s it.”

Shannon watched Jonah’s grip on the steering wheel tighten up, and her shoulders slumped. She could hold back and not tell him so much, but at this stage, Shannon wanted to see if he could take it. Better to find out now that he couldn’t before she got in any deeper.

“That must be difficult.”

“It gets easier as time goes by. Olivia and I are starting to bond. I never thought I’d have that chance.” The wistfulness in her voice sounded pathetic even to her own ears. The hot date she anticipated started to swirl down the toilet. “I’m sorry. This is pretty heavy for a first date.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think we should consider this a normal first date,” Jonah replied, reaching over to squeeze her knee.

Her nervousness abated slightly.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Jonah prompted.

Shannon couldn’t think of one that was appropriate to ask. She couldn’t say, “So you’re really rich, huh?”

She settled on, “Tell me about your family.”

“Well, you met my sister, Vivienne. I don’t have any other siblings. My parents live here in Dallas. I work with my dad. I think I mentioned that already. My mom is active in the social scene in town. She does a lot of charity work. Not much else to say.” Jonah shrugged.

Shannon doubted that. From what she read, his parents were a very big deal. Thomas Moran ran a billion-dollar company. Sheila Moran served as a queen of Dallas’ elite socialites. Shannon saw their pictures sprinkled through the society pages of Dallas’ local papers and magazines. One of those papers named the Moran mansion one of Dallas’ finest examples of architecture and design.

Shannon stared at Jonah’s profile. His smoothly shaved jawline extended at a perfect angle below his high cheekbones. The faintest dimple appeared when he smiled. For the first time, she noticed a small scar above his trimmed right eyebrow, the only disruption to the fineness of his face.

“The scar over your eye. How did that happen?”

Jonah reached up reflexively, stroking it. “Idiocy. I was running in the back yard when I was a kid and didn’t notice this massive root of the oak tree out back. I tripped over it and smashed my face on the trunk. My mother rushed me to the emergency room while calling my father’s plastic surgeon friend to meet us there. Probably the most expensive stitches in history. It was worth it. I barely have a scar.”

“I’ve looked at you a thousand times, and I didn’t notice it before now. But I guess I haven’t seen you up close too much,” she reasoned.

“We’ll have to change that.” Jonah smiled.

Heat unfurled below her waist. A single line, and Jonah had her body humming.

As he turned the steering wheel left, Shannon spotted the stitched monogram on the sleeve of his dress shirt, which read, “JAM.” She reached out and tapped it with her index finger.

“What does the ‘A’ stand for?”

“Ambrose. It’s a family name.”

“That’s pretty old-fashioned.” Shannon tried not to laugh.

“I’m just glad my parents didn’t see fit to name me Ambrose outright. You can’t even shorten it to something cool.”

“I think it’s nice to have some history in your name. I haven’t talked to my biological family in almost twenty years. I know nothing about them.”

“You don’t want to reconnect?”

“No. I don’t see why I would at this point. Blood doesn’t mean much unless you’re really a family, you know?”

“I do. Sometimes I think about that with my own family.”

“But you see your parents all the time. Don’t you have family dinners?”

“We do. Attendance at those is almost mandatory. I guess you’re right. That’s something. I’ve always thought my family was missing that real connection though. Our dinners are so formal. Everything and everyone in their place. Just once, I’d like to see my mother do something unexpected. Like cook the meal herself,” Jonah chuckled. “She avoids the kitchen like the plague.”

“Like mother like son, I guess. Some days, I think you have all your meals at the bistro.”

“I know. Granted, part of that is so I can see you,” Jonah said with a wink.

“You’re always so charming.” Shannon smiled in spite of herself.

“I try. Otherwise, how will I lure beautiful women into my car?”

“My guess is the car is a lure in itself.”

“Maybe. I should rephrase. How will I lure quality beautiful women into my car?”

Shannon returned Jonah’s smile and tugged on the hem of her borrowed dress. A quality beautiful woman? Shannon balked. Could he ever see her that way? A woman with no family except a daughter she’d left and two ex-husbands?

However uptight his parents might be, at least he had them. Shannon wondered what they would think of her. She gave herself a mental kick. His sister liked her and had hired her. His parents couldn’t be as bad as he made them out to be.

Since she had no clever answer to Jonah’s question, she leaned back in her seat to enjoy the rest of the ride.

A
few minutes later
, the valet opened Shannon’s door and helped her step out into the porch of the posh steakhouse. Jonah walked around the front of the car and took her by the arm.

He hadn’t exaggerated. The bar was a scene to behold. The room had everything that people thought Dallas was—except the cattle, which was more Fort Worth anyway. Shannon spotted a Dallas Cowboy swigging a cocktail as tall as the hair on the large-breasted blonde he eyed in the corner. If she concentrated, she could hear a well-known country tune under the hot buzz of conversation blended with boisterous laughter.

Jonah led her to the bar, a long line of rich, dark wood with gleaming brass.

“Is this why they call it a bar I wonder?” Shannon pondered aloud, sliding her hand along the rail.

“Probably. I never thought about it.”

“Me neither. I don’t know why I just thought of that,” she replied.

“Let’s get you a non-cocktail. What would you like?”

“I’ll take a Coke with lime if they have it.”

“I’m sure I can rustle that up for you.”

Jonah caught the bartender and ordered Shannon’s soft drink and a club soda and lime for himself.

“You don’t have to drink that on my account. Have a glass of wine or something,” Shannon cajoled.

“I’ll have some wine with dinner.” Jonah lifted her hand to kiss it.

Warmth spread from his lips to her hand and her entire body. He stroked her palm with his thumb before letting her go. Shannon exhaled, longing for him to touch her again.

Dinner. That’s why she was here. Sex was on the back burner so she could get to know Jonah. If she ever wanted to be more to him than a sex buddy, she had to stop combusting every time he touched her, or he looked at her, or she thought of him. Her attraction for him was like dry kindling waiting for any hint of spark to ignite.

“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.

J
onah 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.

S
hannon 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.

Shannon 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.