Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jon settled in his seat and studied the woman sitting across from him.  Her legs were crossed at the ankle, one well-manicured hand rested on her lap, the other was entwined with Richie’s and rested on his knee.  He drew his eyes from her to his wife and the black cocktail dress she wore.  

His gaze drifted back to Stephanie, taking in the dusky gold dress. It was an interesting choice.  He didn’t know many women who would forego the traditional little black dress for a night out like this.  He liked it but he also had to wonder if it was an indication of her personality or if she was looking for her own fifteen minutes.  And while he didn’t particularly care for that thought, Richie’s judgment had been less than stellar when it came to the ladies lately, so he was going to tread on the side of caution for now.

Drawing his gaze higher, he paused unashamedly at the swell of her breasts.  He could usually tell just from a glance if they were real or fake.  He had no doubt she was as real as his wife.  Finally, his gaze slid to her face.  He could see the nervousness there as she looked everywhere but at him.  If he were a betting man, and he was, he’d put his entire portfolio on her being a fan.  But Richie had failed to mention that little fact.

Reaching out his hand, he decided he’d made her squirm long enough.  “Hi.  I’m Jon.  It’s nice to meet you.”

Dragging her gaze from somewhere over his right shoulder, Stephanie glanced over at Richie.  He was chatting with Dorothea.  Her fingers tightened imperceptibly in his and she struggled not to fidget under Jon’s intense scrutiny.  Never had she had someone so blatantly size her up before.

She didn’t particularly care for it, even if it was by Jon Bon Jovi.

Swallowing back her nerves, she took a deep breath and met Jon’s steely blue gaze with her own determined one.  He may be a rock God and one that she had admired for most of her life, but right now, she was feeling less than amicable toward the man.  “Hi.”  She shook his hand. It was warm, and softer than she expected.  “I’m Stephanie.”  Narrowing her eyes, she looked him up and down as blatantly as he had her.  “Did I pass inspection?”

He didn’t miss the subtle, stubborn lifting of her chin or the slight change from green to brown in her eyes.  From the little that Richie had told him about her, he hadn’t been exactly sure what to expect.  Someone soft and vulnerable maybe?  Instead, he saw a feistiness in her.  He liked that.  She would be no shrinking violet and that might just be what his friend needed to keep him on the new path he was on.  He didn’t need his right-hand man taking any more detours.  Jon put on his most charming, endearing smile, certain it would win her over.  “You are every bit as lovely as Rich said.”

Before she could say anything Jon uttered a soft “oof.”  Dorothea had elbowed him in the stomach.  “Leave her be.”  Dorothea smiled at her and held out her hand.  “I’m Dorothea.  Pay no attention to him.  He’s been cranky all afternoon.”

Stephanie smiled, genuinely, at Jon’s wife and shook her hand lightly.  “It’s nice to meet you.  And thanks for the advice.”

Jon just grunted at his wife and pulled out his phone, checking his messages as they made their way toward the Four Seasons on Doheny Drive.

~

The tension in the back of the limo eased and Stephanie’s nerves didn’t return until they pulled up in front of the hotel.  When it came time for them to exit the car her grip tightened on Richie’s.  She was scared to death to step out of the car.  

Richie let Jon and Dorothea go ahead of them.  He turned to Stephanie.  “Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

She nodded her head “yes” even as the word “no” fell from her lips.  “Way out of my comfort zone here Rich.”  She had never in her life experienced anything like this.  Having a family photo taken was nothing compared to what waited or her outside the car door.  

She leaned forward slightly and could see a forest of legs and the flashes that never stopped.  Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard and lightly licked her lips.  Maybe she should have said no to this particular date.

Richie stroked his thumb light along her jaw.  “Sweetheart.”  When she didn’t open her eyes or respond he tried again.  He cupped her face gently in his hand.  “Sweetheart, look at me.”

She slowly blinked her eyes open.  The green and brown were swirled with nerves, anticipation and a hint of fear of the unknown.  “You are beautiful and you look amazing tonight.  All you need to do is hold my hand, smile and keep walking.”  He searched her face for a moment.  “Okay?”  He knew this wouldn’t be easy, the first time never was, but if she was going to be a part of his life, she would have to at least try to get used to the least pleasant parts.

And just like every other time she had needed that little bit of reassurance, his touch and his words had her feeling like everything would be all right and she really could do this.  Pulling her wrap around her shoulders, she took his hand and nudged him toward the door.  “Let’s go.”

Before she could change her mind he stepped from the car and reached his hand down to help her out.  There was no going back now.  She put her hand in his and could hear the shouts of “Richie” before she had cleared the door.  Standing next to him she took a quick look around.  She had never felt so out of place.  

As if sensing her returning nerves, Richie turned his head and looked down at her, “ready?”  He smiled and his dimpled winked at her.

She smiled back and squeeze his hand lightly.  That damn dimple of his got her every freaking time.

They moved toward the door slowly, pausing every so often so the photographers could get their pictures.  She focused on the door, Jon and Dorothea had made it inside already and just as she could see the finish line in her sight she heard the almost-but-not-quite derogatory comments.  “Who’s the hot little number on your arm tonight, Richie?”  The photographer’s emphasis on the word “tonight” had her cringing and she saw Richie’s smile slip for the first time since he had shown up at her door.

Sensing his unease she turned into him slightly and raised her head so her mouth brushed by his ear.  “Don’t’” she whispered.  “It’s okay.”  She didn’t want him to do something he would regret in the papers and online tomorrow.

Her warm breath ghosted across his neck, soothing the beast that wanted to lash out at the rude, gossip mongering paparazzi.  Instead, he turned his head nuzzling his lips against her forehead amidst a flurry of camera flashes.  They moved on, not stopping again for anyone until they had made it inside.