Choosing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 2)

by Kris Jayne

  Plus, Jeff had to admit that, at times, Shannon didn’t seem to appreciate the life he’d built for Olivia. He’d had help, but still, he was a single dad, doing a hell of a job. Whatever she thought of him and how “uptight” he was, his way of doing things had created a safe, secure environment for their daughter. He’d raised Olivia into a polite, well-spoken child who did well in school. Olivia grew up with everything Shannon would have wanted when she was a child. Instead of complaining, she should be happy. Some gratitude wouldn’t kill her.

  Leaning back in his office chair, Jeff shook his head to push the all-consuming thoughts about his home life to the back of his mind. He spun around and looked through the floor to ceiling window behind his desk.

  The tops of the trees spread out beyond the parking lot of the squat, rather anonymous suburban office building that provided him and his partners with cheaper rent than they’d get in the city. Even having an office was a relatively new development.

  A year ago, they’d rotated working out of each other’s houses. Only once they had needed extra programmers did they find office space. The question hounding every decision they’d made was, “Do we have to spend the money?”

  They ran the company on a shoestring until they could get to profitability. It had taken nearly two years. He thought back to the times in the early going where he and Paul went without pay themselves so they could make payroll for the staff. Then, they had to hunt more customers—good, paying ones—and build enough consistent business so every quarter wasn’t a struggle.

  They brought on Brad to take over a lot of the day-to-day technological management as CTO. Paul and Jeff debated that move for months. Jeff hadn’t wanted to let go of being in complete control of the technology. But growing the business, meeting with clients, and taking on the larger operational issues meant delegating.

  In the end, Jeff had to admit Paul was right. He needed to look at the big picture. That couldn’t be delegated. The move paid off, and Jeff and Paul navigated the company to more growth than they could have imagined when they conceived their latest software idea over beers nearly three years ago.

  Now, after continued negotiations throughout the week, Jeff, Paul, and Brad were signing a letter of intent on the biggest deal of their lives. In a few hours, Moveo would deposit forty-two million dollars in an escrow account, that barring any problems, might as well have their names on it. Forty-two million. Despite the nervous flutter in his gut, he smiled. Paul was right as usual. Jeff could get used to the problem of managing that much money.

  In about sixty days, the money would be theirs. Jeff would get fifteen million. He turned his wrist over in response to the chiming of his smart watch. Thirty minutes until the meeting. It was time to go. Jeff swung his chair back around. He grabbed his wallet and keys from the desk and his coat off the rack by the office door. Paul and Brad waited for him by the elevator.

  “You ready?” Paul asked Jeff.

  “Absolutely. How about you two?”

  “I’ll be perfect in about three or four hours.”

  “Same here,” Brad said as the three men boarded the elevator.

  “Paul, you’re driving, right?”

  “Yeah, we should have time to come back here and talk to the team before meeting at the restaurant.”

  Jeff didn’t know what their significant others had planned, but he knew that Taryn and Paul’s wife, Vicky, had made dinner reservations at the Mansion on Turtle Creek.

  “We’re not celebrating too soon, are we?” Brad asked.

  Jeff shook his head, assured. “We’ve examined this deal from every angle, and we’ve done a lot of digging into Moveo already.”

  “We know there’s no problem from our side. So this letter of intent is all but sealing the deal,” Paul added.

  “But I wouldn’t go buying that Maserati just yet.” Jeff and the guys exited the elevator and located Paul’s sedan.

  “I probably would if I didn’t have a wife to yell at me,” Paul griped.

  Jeff laughed. “That’s why it’s good to have a wife to yell at you.”

  “You say that now. We’ll see what you’re saying in ten years, my man.”

  They got in the car, and Brad opened the door to get in the back and snickered.

  “Looks like ten years gets you a car seat, bags of toys, and Cheerios everywhere. This shit won’t fit in a Maserati, you know.”

  “It’s a good thing I’ll have enough money for two cars then, isn’t it?” Paul smiled into the rearview mirror and started the car.

  Vicky Frye and her husband Paul matched like salt and pepper shakers. They stood the same five feet, five inches. Both had caramel-colored hair, dark brown eyes, and a plumpness that made them regularly threaten to get to the gym more and drop ten pounds. More importantly, both had a naturally gregarious nature that filled every room they entered.

  Taryn and Vicky decided to meet at the bar of the Mansion early for a pre-celebratory cocktail. When Taryn arrived, Vicky sat perched on the edge of her bar stool, chatting up the bartender and a dapper older gentleman. Her melodic laughter alerted Taryn to her presence even before Taryn saw her.

  “You hush. It’s not that bad,” Taryn heard Vicky say as she walked up. The other patron at the bar motioned to the bartender and then turned toward Taryn.

  “What’s your lovely friend drinking, darlin’?”

  “She loves champagne, don’t you, Taryn?”

  “I do, but I thought we’d wait to toast until the guys get here. So maybe a cosmo to start.”

  “You heard, the lady,” the man barked amiably to the bartender before returning his attention to Taryn. “I’m Harrick Donovan. And you are?”

  She shook his hand. “Taryn Lieber. You don’t have to buy our drinks.”

  “Nonsense. A lady never pours her own drink or pays,” Harrick declared.

  “I’ve done so much of both. You’re making me start to wonder.”

  Harrick found this funny and let out an immense guffaw.

  “Sometimes being ladylike is overrated, I think,” Vicky sassed.

  “Lady or no, I’m buying. Vicky here said y’all are celebrating a big business deal that your husbands just signed. So I thought I’d join my celebration with yours.”

  Taryn didn’t feel compelled to correct his reference to Jeff as her husband. Best to keep him understanding that she was spoken for.

  “And what are you celebrating?” Taryn asked.

  “Thursday,” he roared.

  A moment later, the bartender came over with a cocktail shaker in one hand. He strained the pale red drink into a tall, elegant martini glass and set the drink in front of Taryn.

  “To Thursday.” Vicky raised her glass. The three of them clinked cocktails and chatted until the maître d’ alerted Mr. Donovan that his other party was here, and his table was ready. Taryn watched as the man—who had to be at least sixty and probably closer to seventy—sauntered to the front of the restaurant and swooped a tall, thin, beautiful redhead up into his arms.

  “Daughter? Niece? Cousin?” Taryn proffered, sipping her drink.

  “Yeah, sure.” Vicky chuckled.

  “Is that what money does to men? We better watch out.”

  “Don’t worry. We have years before they’ll leave us for younger women. And the first wife gets the best deal,” Vicky joked, blushing. “Or the second. Sorry. I forgot about Shannon.”

  “I wish I could forget about her.”

  “Is she causing trouble as usual?”

  Taryn didn’t know how to answer the question. Shannon had lied but, as yet, hadn’t caused any trouble.

  “I think it’s too soon to tell. Jeff is determined to give her the benefit of the doubt, so I’m just following his lead as best as I can.” While she and Vicky were friends, Taryn didn’t feel comfortable telling the wife of Jeff’s business partner that she had gone behind Jeff’s back to hire a PI.

  “Between you and me, I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.
Did I ever tell you how she almost ruined my wedding reception?”

  “No, but I heard the story from Jeff. That’s what happens with an addict, I guess. She’s supposedly clean and sober now. And honestly, I hope that’s true for Olivia’s sake.”

  “How is Olivia doing?”

  “She’s been quieter than usual, but she’s adjusting and spending time with Shannon. She’s always looking around trying to make sure everyone is okay, you know? She doesn’t want anyone to be mad at her for being nice to one or another of us. The whole thing has to be confusing.”

  “I wonder how long Shannon will stick around. It would be terrible for her to disappear again.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I tell myself every time I start to wish Shannon would go away.”

  “Well, here’s to Olivia and everything working out for the best with her mom,” Vicky toasted.

  “I can toast to that.” Taryn lifted her glass to Vicky’s once again. “They should be here any minute. Do you know if Brad’s bringing his girlfriend, Jacquie?”

  “She’s out of town, so it’s just the seven of us with Nick and Micky coming.”

  “Yeah, they’re going to be late. I ducked out of work early, but I kind of left some stuff for her to finish. He’s picking her up.”

  The pair of women finished their drinks, and something over Taryn’s shoulder caught Vicky’s eye and made her smile.

  “Here they are.” She slid off her barstool.

  Taryn turned and saw Jeff, Paul, and Brad walking over. The three of them had the swagger of conquering heroes. They were an odd sight. Jeff and Brad topped six foot four, nearly a foot taller than Paul. Jeff’s wide grin beamed, and Taryn felt her pride in him swell.

  “Hello, hello, Mr. McConnell. What’s new?” Taryn asked her fiancé. He turned her barstool toward him and stole a soft, quick kiss before answering.

  “The ink is drying,” he pronounced, then kissed her again. This time, he lingered. The plush feel of his lips on hers sent heat radiating down her body, melting away any other thought. The sudden rush of excitement reminded her of when they first met.

  “Hey, you two can’t get us kicked out of here before I’ve had my filet mignon,” Paul warned. He was one to talk. His arm wrapped around Vicky’s waist, and his hand splayed out across her bottom. Taryn felt sorry for Brad. His girlfriend was away just when the scent of success turned up everyone’s libido.

  “They said our table is ready, so we can close out your tab,” Jeff told Taryn.

  “Already taken care of,” the bartender said.

  Taryn rolled her eyes, squeezing Jeff’s arm. “Yeah, we had a very generous visitor a few minutes ago.”

  “A man, I presume.”

  “Of course.” Vicky turned to her husband. “The competition is heating up.”

  “Taryn, tell me, do I need to be worried?” Paul questioned.

  “Umm, no. He was fun, but a little long in the tooth.”

  “Plus, who could compete with a twenty-year-old model girlfriend?”

  “That too,” Taryn replied. She stood up and let Jeff take her hand, leading her to the table behind Paul, Vicky, and Brad. Once seated, Paul gave the women a rundown of the afternoon meeting.

  “Things should be wrapped up in sixty days. We’ve already been pretty upfront with Moveo—at least as much as we could before signing—and Nick handed over another set of documentation today. He said there shouldn’t be any surprises.”

  “Yeah, once we did the nondisclosure agreement, they already started asking tons of questions,” Jeff explained.

  “About the company? Like financials and stuff?” Taryn asked.

  “Yeah, and personal stuff. I had to prepare a disclosure document on my divorce. They asked if you and I were going to have a prenup.”

  “Really? Why would they ask about you and me?”

  “We’re getting married during the time when I’ll still be an executive with the company. They want to make sure that if we get divorced, you won’t sue for part of the business.”

  “Divorced? You’re only staying on for six months and by the time we’re married, you’ll only have about three months left. Married and divorced in less than ninety days. That’s Kardashian territory.”

  She and Jeff had already discussed the prenup and agreed they would have one. It protected Jeff, but it also protected Olivia and secured assets for her in case something happened. Taryn didn’t have a problem signing one, but she felt uneasy that strangers bandied about their personal details.

  Paul delved deeper into their thinking. “They have to make sure we have no competing legal liabilities, but the guy coming in can explain that better than I can.”

  Nick and Micky approached the table and found their seats. Nick held the chair out for his girlfriend. “Sorry we’re late.”

  “It’s my fault. I couldn’t get out of there in time today.”

  “Which is my fault, in part. I left you to go through those invoices without me,” Taryn confessed.

  “Well, the next time one of our boyfriends is signing a multimillion dollar business deal, I get to leave early.”

  “Deal. Here’s to next time.” Taryn raised her drink. “Y’all will have to toast with water for now.”

  Paul crinkled his brow. “Let’s get you guys cocktails.” The waiter materialized by the table and took drink orders from the newcomers.

  “This is why you come to shee-shee poopoo place for dinner. The service. That guy appeared out of nowhere and then poof.” Vicky giggled.

  “I don’t know. I could’ve eaten an Angry Dog burger with chili and had a Shiner,” Jeff replied.

  Paul laughed. “Another thing to add next time. I was explaining all the disclosures we’ve done and the due diligence process.”

  Taryn’s ill ease over the invasion into her personal life returned. “I didn’t know they’d ask questions about our marriage.”

  Nick explained what Paul had started to earlier.

  “Absolutely. Anything that might be a legal obligation that impacts the business. Divorces, marriages, other lawsuits. All of that we have to disclose. They don’t want to sign the deal and then have an ex-wife step in and claim she owns part of the business or should be compensated as if she did.”

  “My divorce from Shannon clearly states that she has no claim on my assets outside of what I gave her when we split.”

  “What was that?” Taryn asked.

  “I gave her all of our checking and savings and the car she took off in.”

  “Which you paid off for her with money from your parents,” Paul interjected.

  “That’s more generous than I might have been,” Vicky snarked.

  “It wasn’t that much. There would have been no way for her to pay for it. And anyway, I knew I could make more money. She couldn’t.”

  “She pretty much walked away scot free,” Vicky replied. Paul shot her a warning look.

  “It was easier than fighting, and it wasn’t like I was sitting on a pile of cash back then. We were lucky to have five hundred dollars in our accounts most months.”

  “In the end, it paid to be generous. You are more than free and clear of any liability to her,” Nick said.

  Taryn watched Jeff pop a buttered piece of bread in his mouth. He was so casually kind. Whenever he had the choice between generosity and taking what he might even be owed, he chose to give. His sweetness and peaceful nature were what she admired most about him.

  Guilt radiated through her. Here she was still trying to nail Shannon to the wall while Jeff did everything he could to help her.

  Jeff squeezed her knee, and she turned to look into his sweet brown eyes. At that moment, she resolved to call off the dogs and come clean. He would be angry, but she’d let him know that Shannon’s ex was still in the picture. He needed to know that, but digging around in Shannon’s mess of a life would only get Taryn mired in the muck along with her. Jeff didn’t deserve that. And Taryn wanted to deserve him.

  Chapter T
hirty-Three

  Taryn was a Band-Aid ripper. Once resolved to do something, regardless of how difficult, she bit down hard and did it.

  However, ruining the celebration with more discussion of Shannon didn’t seem right either. So the next morning, she told Jeff that she had something important to discuss with him that evening.

  He leaned over in the steamy master bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips, depositing a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. Standing up, he stared hard at her reflection behind him in the mirror. Taryn swallowed and gripped her robe.

  “That doesn’t sound like good news. You don’t want to just tell me now?”

  Taryn hesitated. She was meeting the PI at lunch to get the final report and pay him his fee. Then, it would be done. Then, she would tell him.

  She slipped behind Jeff at the sink and slid her hands across his chest and down to his belly. Taryn planted a kiss between his shoulder blades.

  “I can’t. Tonight.”

  “Bad news?”

  “Well, news. Not sure how bad yet. Maybe not so bad,” Taryn evaded and hugged Jeff tight.

  He’d understand, she told herself. He might be mad, but then he’d understand. Jeff turned around and returned her embrace. Taryn’s stomach fluttered. He smelled like vanilla and musk. The urge to unwrap his towel and be late for work nearly overwhelmed her.

  “So long as you’re around to make it all better,” he said. His breath fluttered on the top of her head as he kissed her hair and then pulled away just enough to be able to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and then her mouth. He moved his tongue slowly over her lips before separating them.

  Taryn pulled him deeper into her mouth, reveling in the heat emanating from his freshly showered body. A groan echoed off the polished marble tiles. She didn’t know from whom. An itch of guilt sparked within her, quelling her fervor. She pulled back.

  “I have to get to work,” Taryn mumbled into Jeff’s neck.

  “No, you don’t. You can call and quit and stay home with me all day.” Jeff’s hands had found their way inside her robe and cradled both of her breasts. Her nipples hardened against the roughness of his palms.