Читать книгу Risky Business of Love - Yahrah John St. - Страница 7

She was stunning. Jonathan would never forget how that honey-blond hair had luxuriously lain across his pillow. From where he was standing, she was as delicious a sexpot in the morning light as she’d been in the moonlight. A hint of cleavage peaked out of her buttercup suit jacket, making any man curious to find out what other pleasures she hid underneath.

“I’m here in an unofficial capacity. I’m here as a son, supporting his father,” Jonathan replied, smiling down at Ciara. She returned it with a knowing smile of her own. So, she recognized him from last night? Let the games begin, he thought.

“Well, that doesn’t exactly answer my question, now does it, Mr. Butler?” Ciara replied silkily, looking up at him beneath heavy eyelashes.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her unwillingness to take no for an answer. And was she giving him that same come-hither look? Because if so, he would and could most certainly oblige.

“Do you intend to run at some point in the future, Mr. Butler?” Ciara flashed Jonathan a sexy grin, eager to be the first to get the scoop.

Lance looked down at Ciara. He couldn’t believe Ciara’s boldness. Here she was flirting with Jonathan on-screen. He hoped Shannon didn’t see this.

“I may run for public office at some point in the future,” Jonathan answered evasively.

More like the immediate future, Ciara thought but she let it rest. She’d hit her mark! Jonathan Butler was flustered.

“One final question for Congressman Butler. What’s next on the agenda for you?” Ciara asked, batting her eyelashes at the senior Butler.

“Mostly a whole lot of golf,” Charles Butler replied.

“And with that last statement, the press conference is concluded,” Reid said, coming forward to the microphone. “We thank all the members of the press for their attendance.” Then he turned and glowered at Jonathan. He couldn’t believe that young snot was flirting with a reporter in the middle of a conference. Didn’t he know how unprofessional his behavior was? Jonathan Butler had no place in the public arena and Reid was determined to ensure he did not succeed in his election quest.

“Son, I think you…” Charles Butler began, but Jonathan shooed him away.

“Not now, Dad,” he said, his eyes never leaving Ciara’s. He longed to have her tiger eyes gaze at him again, and no one was getting in his way.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He patted his father on the shoulder and stepped down from the podium.

When he reached his destination, he found her speaking with her cameraman. Jonathan tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, do you mind if I interrupt?” he asked Lance, eager to talk to the woman who’d garnered his attention the moment he’d laid eyes on her at the bar.

His eyes traveled slowly down her curvy frame, taking in her buttercup pantsuit and low-cut jacket with one of those lacy things underneath. He loved the vibrant, sun-kissed hair, pert breasts and long, shapely legs that the formfitting fabric clung to. Her beautifully clear café au lait skin was perfect with the exception of a sexy mole near her mouth.

He seized her beautifully manicured hand and lightly brushed his lips across it. A tingle of excitement rushed through Ciara at the feel of Jonathan’s lips on her skin. She remembered what it felt like to have his lips on other parts of her body, which caused her skin to color a bright red.

Another reporter bumped into Ciara. Jonathan’s reflexes were impeccable and he placed his hand on the side of her back to steady her, sending an electric current right through Ciara’s spine.

“My, my, my, Mr. Butler, you certainly are gallant.” Ciara fanned herself.

“My pleasure,” Jonathan said, honoring her with a breathtaking smile, all the while inching closer. Ciara stepped backward to escape the heat being generated by his nearness.

“You know that’s quite a bold move you made earlier, calling me out on my announcement.”

“Really?” Ciara touched her chest, drawing Jonathan’s attention to her sumptuous endowments. “C’mon, you’re the news story here. Not your father. Everyone wanted to know if you were running for office. All I did was let the cat out of the bag.”

“So your cornering me on live television was strictly for the public?” Jonathan asked, captivated by the honey-coated tone of her voice.

“No, not completely.” Ciara smiled. “It was personal as well as professional.”

“So you were trying to be provocative?” Jonathan queried.

“The public loves it and my news director will eat it up.”

“Well, your plan worked. You most certainly know how to titillate and not just the public,” Jonathan replied, remembering how he’d felt planted inside the tight warmth of her cocoon.

Ciara flushed. “Now, now, Mr. Butler, remember we are in public.”

“I know exactly where we are,” Jonathan replied smoothly. “And since I have you cornered,” he whispered in her ear, “perhaps you can tell me why you snuck out of my bed last night.”

Ciara boldly looked up at him. “I didn’t sneak out of your bed. I walked. And furthermore, our evening together was over.”

“And I take it that’s how you would like to keep it?” Jonathan inquired.

“Wouldn’t you?” Ciara asked. “I doubt your father would approve of your one-night stand with a member of the press.”

“I do not need my father’s approval. I see whom I choose.”

“Very well stated but hardly true, Mr. Butler. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re smack-dab in the public eye,” she said, whirling around so Jonathan could view several curious sets of eyes watching their every move.

“I think it would be prudent to leave our one night together as just that, one night. No matter how enjoyable.” She smiled seductively at him, revealing a set of pearl-white teeth. “It would not be wise for us to continue our association.”

Jonathan leaned down so that only she could hear him. “Don’t tell me, you’re afraid of a little challenge?”

Ciara breathed in his musky masculine scent. It was very intoxicating and she instantly stepped back. “No, not at all,” she replied.

“Then join me for dinner tonight.”

As much as she might want to join Jonathan Butler for dinner, her mind cautioned her against it. He oozed charm and was dangerous to her peace of mind. Last night had been about more than just buck-wild sex; he’d gotten to her and that would never do.

At this point in her career, she couldn’t afford to get tied up in all that messy love stuff. She needed to focus her energies on becoming an anchor. Of course, a high-profile relationship with a would-be congressman just might do that. Perhaps she should reconsider. She could enjoy him as well as boost her career.

“Are you asking me out on a proper date this time?”

Jonathan grinned. “As I recall, that wasn’t what you were looking for last night.”

“Touché.”

“How about dinner?”

“Perhaps,” Ciara answered. “Only if it includes dessert.” She winked at him.

Jonathan couldn’t resist smiling at her audacity and rose to the occasion. “That could be arranged.” He grinned. “How about seven-thirty?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at the studio.”

Ciara thought about that and shook her head. She in no way wanted their relationship to leak out to the rest of the press.

“No can do. Why don’t I meet you?”

“Capital Grille on Chestnut Street at seventy-thirty.”

“I look forward to it,” Ciara tossed over her shoulder and started toward the door, but Jonathan halted her.

“Wait, I still don’t know your name,” Jonathan commented.

“It’s Ciara. Ciara Miller,” she replied, sauntering over to Lance.

Ah, now there was an unusual name, Jonathan thought as he rejoined his father’s contingent, but one that fit her extremely well.

Lance joined up with Ciara at the door and asked, “So, what happened?”

Ciara turned around and noticed Jonathan watching her backside from across the room, but he quickly looked away when she caught him.

“I have a date with Jonathan Butler tonight,” Ciara said once they were outside.

Lance opened the van door and began hauling his equipment into the back of the truck before joining her inside. “I’m not surprised you snagged a date, especially after the way you out-and-out flirted with him at the press conference.”

“Who me?” Ciara asked, feigning ignorance.

“Yeah, you,” Lance said, nudging her in the middle. “You better hope Shannon doesn’t pick up on the vibe.”

“Oh please,” Ciara said. “Shannon wouldn’t know flirtation if it hit her with a ten-foot stick.”

“Son, what are you thinking?” Charles berated his overly eager son after the reporter had left. “Fraternizing with a member of the press. Do you even realize how every aspect of your life is scrutinized?”

“The press is just waiting for you to screw up. So they can be there like a pack of wild dogs to pick up the scraps,” his mother added.

Jonathan patted his father on the back. “Trust me, Dad. I know what I’m doing. It’s just dinner after all.”

Reid laughed inwardly at Jonathan’s public display. Here he was on the eve of an election that was practically guaranteed and he was hooking up with a pretty television reporter, of all people. Reid couldn’t ask for better luck for Jonathan to get his comeuppance.

“Do you even realize how lucky you are, Jonathan? To be in the position you are?” his father queried. “People are waiting for you to fail.”

“Of course I do, Dad.” Jonathan’s voice rose slightly and several reporters looked over at them. “Because you never let me forget it,” he snapped underneath his breath. All he’d heard all his life was that he was next in line. He had to do everything perfectly or be prepared for the consequences, and when his father was Congressman Butler, those were always stiff.

When he’d been in boarding school, he and a couple of other ninth graders had played a prank on the dean by toilet papering his house. Jonathan had hoped he’d be kicked out and allowed to be normal like other kids instead of going to social functions playing the dutiful son, but it was not meant to be. He’d thought he could get away without his father ever finding out, but not so. Charles Butler had shown up to the Phelps School in all his glory and had caused quite a commotion. Pretty soon, Jonathan had been back in school and under strict supervision in detention.

Reid jumped in. “Can we have this conversation in the car, please?” he implored as he directed the Butlers toward the exit.

Jonathan looked down at Reid’s hand on his arm and glowered at him. Reid quickly removed it.

Jonathan sucked in a deep breath once they were outside. He allowed his parents and Reid to precede him before entering the limousine Reid had waiting. He was so tired of his father ruling his life. He was a grown man capable of making his own decisions.

After several long moments, he got inside the vehicle. Jonathan seethed while en route back to his father’s office because his father kept hounding him.

“Who is this woman, really?” his father asked aloud. “You know absolutely nothing about her.”

“Your father’s right,” Reid agreed. “All of a sudden she shows up just when you’re about to announce your candidacy. It could be a setup. What’s her name?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Jonathan said, ignoring Reid’s question. He had no intention of giving him her name so he could treat her like a common criminal. “You guys are making too much of one date.” All of this cloak-and-dagger stuff truly wasn’t necessary. Why? Because his father may know about politics, but Jonathan knew women. He would know if he was being played.

“And you are taking this too lightly,” Reid countered.

“Maybe, Reid, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to date,” Jonathan said, taking a dig at his father’s right-hand man. “But for the rest of us, when you meet someone you like and they like you, you go out on what’s called a date. It’s as simple as that.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see if she has an ulterior motive,” Reid replied, putting on his sunglasses and looking out the window. He couldn’t believe how arrogant Jonathan Butler was.

“Yes, we shall,” Jonathan said.

When she returned to the studio to prepare for the twelve o’clock newscast, Ciara ran right into her coworker, Chelsea Allen.

It didn’t bother her one bit that one of her closest friends at the station was Caucasian, though it may have bothered some. Ciara was color-blind. Furthermore, there was none of the backstabbing that came with competing for the same positions. Chelsea was the antithesis of Ciara. A brunette with pale skin, Chelsea wore baggy clothes to hide her size-fourteen figure. But she sure was the best makeup artist Ciara had ever come across.

“Ciara, where have you been? Shannon’s been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh, Lord.” Ciara rolled her eyes. “Is she breathing fire?”

Chelsea appeared stumped. “Isn’t she always?”

Ciara laughed. “I suppose you’re right. So what does the dragon lady want now?”

“Something about a story she wants you to cover.”

“Am I the only reporter around?” Ciara wailed, grabbing Chelsea by the arm and pushing her into the ladies’ room nearby.

“Is it me?” Ciara pulled a brush out of her purse and proceeded to smooth her golden locks until they shone. “But doesn’t it seem like she enjoys giving me a hard time?” Ciara asked, surveying herself in the mirror. All in all, she was pleased with her appearance and turned to face Chelsea.

“You’re her whipping boy—I mean, girl—right now,” Chelsea said, touching up her lipstick with a fresh coat.

“I wish she’d find someone new to pick on. I mean, it’s not like I’m not a seasoned reporter. I’ve been at the station for five years.” Ciara folded her arms and pouted.

“Cheer up.” Chelsea patted her shoulder. “Pretty soon, Shannon will find something or someone new to focus her energies on.”

“Maybe she should get herself a man, release some of that pent-up energy, then she wouldn’t be so focused on the rest of us.”

“It sure couldn’t hurt,” Chelsea chuckled. “Wait a sec.” She stared into Ciara’s eyes. “Does this mean that you’ve found yourself such a man to relieve stress?” she teased.

“Who me?” Ciara played coy but couldn’t resist grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah you,” Chelsea replied. “Don’t you hold out on me. You know I’m living through you vicariously.”

“Well.” Ciara paused for effect. “If you must know. I’ve met a truly amazing man. He’s absolutely gorgeous, tall and has the most well-defined body I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Chelsea’s eyes grew wide at every adjective Ciara used to describe her fine mystery man. “And? Who is he?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Ciara said, glancing around the restroom to make sure they were the only two people there. She bent down and peeked under the stalls, but didn’t see anyone.

“Well? Spill the beans,” Chelsea said, frustrated.

“It’s Jonathan Butler,” Ciara said. “We met last night at a bar and the sparks flew.”

“You mean that gorgeous fox that’s supposed to run for his father’s congressional seat?”

“Nothing’s official yet,” Ciara said.

“Yeah, but we all know it’s going to happen,” Chelsea responded. “So when are you going to see him again?”

“I’m not going to say anything more. You know the walls around here have ears.” Ciara glanced around the restroom. “And I don’t want this to leak until I’m ready to use it to my advantage.” She had probably said too much, but she was so giddy with excitement, she couldn’t contain herself.

“Okay,” Chelsea replied. “We’ll talk more over lunch.”

“As long as I’m not stationed in Timbuktu, I’m all yours,” Ciara said, shutting the door behind her. Neither of them heard the toilet flush several moments later or saw Shannon exit from the restroom with a broad smile on her face. The station manager wanted ratings; well, Shannon had just hit the jackpot.

Lunch with Chelsea was all girl talk as always. Ciara enjoyed filling her best pal in on all the details of her date with Jonathan and watching her eyes bulge out with envy, but unfortunately she had an unenjoyable task ahead of her and her name started with a D.

Her mother, Diamond Miller, telephoned her three times at work, asking Ciara when she would come by with the money. Why couldn’t she get the money from her boyfriend? thought Ciara as she drove up South Street. Although known for its ten blocks of party bars, some areas were somewhat sleazy with homeless people, hookers and drug dealers. It was the slums and, although it may have been her roots, she hated being reminded of her humble beginnings. But every time she visited Diamond, it was unavoidable. She’d tried to get Diamond to travel to her side of town, but Diamond refused.

Afraid to park her car in the rear, Ciara parked in front of the bar instead. Situated on the corner, the exterior of the Oasis was in desperate need of a coat of paint and some serious siding. As she pulled open the door, Ciara took a deep breath and steeled herself to prepare for another of one Diamond’s dramas. She found the bar relatively empty except for a few lone patrons.

“Vince.” She nodded at the barkeep, who just so happened to be dating her mother. Balding, middle-aged and overweight, Vince was loud and crude with a thick New York accent and he should have been every woman’s nightmare; instead, he’d found solace in the arms of her ditzy mother. “Is my mom upstairs?” Ciara asked.

“Yeah, she’s up there doing her nails or something. You be sure to tell her that she’d better call Suzy and make sure she’s covering for Candy. Otherwise we’ll be one short for tonight’s show.”

“I’ll be sure and do that, Vince,” Ciara said sarcastically, sauntering past him toward the dressing rooms. Who did he think she was—his secretary? Ciara climbed up the back staircase to the small apartment Diamond and Vince shared and knocked on the door.

“Coming,” a voice rang out from inside. Diamond opened the door seconds later and Ciara was rewarded with a loud screech.

“Ciara! Oh, baby girl, it’s so good to see you.” Diamond kissed either cheek and squeezed Ciara’s shoulders. A hug that Ciara did not return. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you since yesterday.”

Ciara looked her mother up and down and was embarrassed. Her mother was overly made-up, wearing a tight bustier that revealed her ample bosom. She’d paired the bustier with some tight leather capris. How did Diamond always manage to find clothes that made her look trashy? She was forty-five years old for heaven’s sake. Why didn’t she dress like it?

“I do have a life, Diamond,” Ciara replied, walking inside. She looked around the modest apartment for a place to sit, but the tiny living room was cluttered with clothes and paper. Diamond didn’t work and could easily clean up the place. What did she do all day? Ciara wondered as she stepped over clothes and brushed some newspaper onto the floor and off the couch to make room for a place to sit.

“Don’t be a grouch.” Diamond closed the door behind her daughter and plopped down in her recliner to watch Judge Mathis. Picking up her bottle of ruby-red nail polish on the coffee table, she returned to polishing her toenails.

“I’m not a grouch,” Ciara said, throwing her purse on the side table.

“If you say so,” Diamond huffed. She knew her daughter didn’t approve of her, but she didn’t care. As long as she was happy with herself that was all that mattered.

“Well?” Ciara raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, Diamond? Because I’m on my lunch hour and have to get back to work.”

“It’s like I said when I called,” Diamond replied. “I need to borrow a little cash.”

“Why? Isn’t Vince bankrolling you?”

“The bar isn’t doing so good,” Diamond replied, “as you can probably see from the lack of customers downstairs, and I need a few things. And Vince is being a real tightwad with his cash these days. He says I’m spending too much.”

“Is that true?” Ciara asked. She was sure it was. Diamond went through cash like water.

Diamond smiled guiltily. “I suppose I may have overspent a little, but I just had to have a pair of these tall four-inch boots that were on sale at Macy’s. Wait here and I’ll show you.”

Diamond rushed off toward the bedroom and minutes later returned carrying a pair of tiger-print leather boots with a four-inch heel. “So, what do you think?”

Ciara shook her head in amazement. Her mother would never change. She had no idea about the value of money because she’d never stayed in one place long enough. She’d always gone from one man to the next; moving her and a young Ciara from place to place after each one of her relationships had successively failed.

Ciara had hated each and every one of them. Every guy was usually only after one thing and poor Diamond never figured it out until it was too late and he was moving on to the next person. Until Paul Williams had come along. Nearly forty years her senior, he’d married Diamond and had later left her his fortune, which she’d had the bad sense to waste. “Diamond, how much did those boots set you back?” Ciara asked.

Diamond looked down sheepishly and didn’t answer.

“Diamond, how much?” Ciara’s voice rose an octave.

“Oh, two hundred dollars,” Diamond whispered.

“Two hundred dollars! Are you insane?”

“I know, but I just had to have them,” Diamond explained. “They fit my new knit jersey dress to perfection.”

Ciara was so frustrated at her mother’s lack of discipline. Every time she was low on cash, she came knocking on her door.

“And you want me to bail you out, I presume. Why do you always do this, Diamond? Do I look like your personal ATM?”

“Of course not,” Diamond replied and on cue tears began to form in her dark brown eyes. “It’s just, you know I haven’t had an easy life. I grew up on the streets and had to raise you all on my own.”

Ciara sighed. She’d heard this song and dance a million times. Diamond had run away from home at sixteen and had met up with some Las Vegas showgirls who’d taken her under their wing and taught her how to get by. Ciara understood all that because she’d lived through it with her, so she would not be made to feel guilty because Diamond was a spendthrift.

“It’s not my fault you ran off with another man and didn’t tell Daddy. He would have helped, you know. Taken care of the both of us.” From what she’d heard, her father had adored Diamond and when she’d become pregnant, they’d quickly gotten married. Diamond hadn’t been content as a married housewife and mother, but she’d been young and gullible and had run off with the first smooth talker she’d met, leaving Ciara’s poor accountant father with a broken heart. And when that relationship had failed, Diamond had returned to the only thing she knew how to be: a Las Vegas showgirl.

“So, you blame me for your horrible life?” Diamond questioned her.

“Who else should I blame? You are the parent. Aren’t you?” Of course, Ciara wondered about that sometimes. Many a time, she’d had to help a tipsy Diamond up the stairs after one too many or had been forced to listen to her get it on with some stranger.

Diamond shrugged her shoulders. “What’s done is done, Ciara. I can’t make up for it, baby girl. But you are in a position to help your mama. You’re a big-time reporter now.”

Little did she know, thought Ciara. Her reporter’s salary barely fed her. Ciara stood up abruptly. “I have to go or I’ll be late.”

“And the money?” Diamond turned on the puppy-dog eyes. Ciara shook her head. She should let Vince kick Diamond out, maybe then she would learn her lesson. Of course, then she would have no place to go and where would she end up? At Ciara’s doorstep. No, no, it was better she give her the money and hope for the best.

“I don’t have two hundred.”

Diamond smiled and lightly touched her cheek. “Whatever you could give me would be great.”

Ciara leaned over, grabbed her purse and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet. “How about one hundred?” Ciara held up the money.

Diamond quickly snatched it and stuffed it down her bustier.

“Thanks, kid, you’re a real lifesaver.”

Ciara glanced down and her watch read a quarter to two. “I’ve got to go, Diamond.”

“Listen, Ci-Ci, I really appreciate your coming by. You always help your mama out when I need it.” It meant the world to Diamond that even though her daughter had moved up in the world, she hadn’t given up on her.

“Please don’t get all mushy and sentimental, Diamond. It doesn’t suit you,” Ciara retorted, walking to the door. She may have agreed to help her, but Ciara didn’t get the warm fuzzies from her mother.

“Okay, okay.” Diamond knew a good thing when she had it and wouldn’t push. “I’ll see you later,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Ciara breathed a sigh of relief and took the stairs two at a time to get out of the dingy bar. Thank God that was over, she thought rushing back to her car. Now she could look forward to her evening with Jonathan and all that implied.