Matter of Choice (3 page)

Back at the office, when Triston had typed in a hotel search for the Valley, a last ditch effort to salvage the relationship with Jen, the Grande Marquis came up with Shannon’s thumbnail next to a quote of service, he thought she was
his
Shannon from way back when. She’d looked the part. The booking became a foregone conclusion, mostly on the thought of seeing her again, a hope, nothing he’d take to the bank. It wasn’t like she was his anymore anyway. He’d blown that. Maybe just seeing Shannon this last time, talking to her, getting the chance to apologize for how badly he had treated her when they were high school sweethearts would make up for everything. Allow him to forget her, finally. Or at the very least, leave it in the past where it belonged.

Until now, it had been like a rabid dog chasing Triston down dark alleys of guilt, wishing he’d done everything differently.

The elevator dinged, and he led Jennifer into the shaft, glancing down at the key card to check the floor. Maybe facing the past, putting it behind him, and sharing a romantic, and expensive, week with Jennifer would cure him. She wasn’t such a bad woman. Maybe they could share a future if he could let go of the past.

It was something to hope for anyway. Besides, other women grated on his nerves too. Not on a casual basis, but he severely lacked in the relationship department. The way they walked, or talked, sang, danced, he always found some little fault with them all. The truth of the matter, Triston knew, was it was mostly him, measuring everyone against impossible standards. Confronting his mistakes could change that.

Jennifer leaned over and kissed his cheek, pressing her lithe figure against him. “Could try out the room before we go anywhere.”

Triston attempted a weak smile, sure he should be enticed by the gesture. Any good boyfriend would be. She was affectionate, sexy, could be fun when she wasn’t complaining, all the reasons he’d started dating Jenn in the first place.

For a lot of men, that would be enough.

*

Back in her office, Shannon collapsed into the chair, tears streaming down her face. Her past met her present, and neither man had any idea who she was. Seeing Triston again was no consolation. It brought nothing more than the sense of being utterly forgettable. But what was she expecting? Some kind of validation?

Nothing made up for Greg, or all they had lost in thei
r marriage.

Shannon’s brows furrowed as the scene played over in her mind.
Humility, humility and more ….

She stopped.

Greg called Stevens by name. Could it be he remembered him? No, that would be impossible. Her head security guard started at the Grande about a year ago, and the two men met a few times, during other disturbances Greg caused. Anyone else would remember, but doctors assured Shannon Greg’s short term memory was just as flawed as his long term memory. Retrograde and anterograde, the clinical terms she’d come so familiar with. Yet …

No need to get your tightie whities in a bunch, Stevens.

The familiarity in the words. Greg remembered something. He … the thought drifted into oblivion as realization washed down over her. She’d called Stevens’ name during the altercation. Greg was simply parroting her. Shannon sighed. Nothing like grasping at straws.

Shannon pressed hard into her cheeks as she brushed the tears away. She was stronger than this. She didn’t need a man to make her complete. She cringed. That’d be true if she wasn’t married, trying to patch up the relationship with glue as he stood in the corner shredding yet another piece of the relationship.

Chapter Three

Performance appraisals were Shannon’s least favorite part of the job. The positive remarks were easy, the negative not as simple. Tapping a handful of fingers against the desk, she struggled with the name on the screen. Rick Stockard, one of the maintenance men. A boy, really, fresh out of high school. Good kid, nice, polite, but not committed. He was still young, and despite the maintenance manager’s urging to let him go, Shannon wasn’t convinced. He needed a chance to learn and grow. She smoothed her hair with an open palm. No, she wasn’t going to fire him. Shannon scribbled some notes on the form. A meeting and a lengthy probation. Hopefully it would be enough to turn the kid around.

Shannon jumped at the sound of the ringing phone. She shook her head and giggled, then pushed the speaker button on the black phone base. A new item on the long list of to do’s - finding a way to stop being so high-strung.

“Yes, Naomi?”

“Call on line four, says he’s one of your guests.”

Shannon sighed and considered voicemail. “Did he leave a name?”

“Mr. Keyes, I believe.”

A lump formed in her throat.
Triston
. “Please place him on hold for a moment. I’ll be right with him.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shannon pressed the button again and leaned back, fingers curled against parted lips, unsure she wanted to speak to him. Possibilities spiraled through in her mind, unable to settle on a purpose. Triston didn’t realize who she was. Maybe the call had something to do with the room. Of course it did. There was no other reason for him to call her.

Except for the scene with her husband.

She gritted her teeth as heat rolled up the back of her neck. Greg had a way of pissing people off, especially men. Strangers didn’t appreciate the amnesia as a valid excuse for outrageous behavior. The scenes made in front of the Grande’s guests weren’t easy to explain away. Fortunately, Greg didn’t come to the hotel often.

Shannon would’ve preferred he hadn’t been there that day, or had started a scene with just a
bout anyone other than Triston.

She eased forward, hand hovering over the receiver. It was a
good
thing Triston didn’t remember her, she realized. If he had, it would have been the ultimate humiliation to have her husband hit on his girlfriend.

The phone rang its single tone reminder and Shannon gathered a breath as she lifted the receiver to an ear. “Shannon Winters speaking. How may I help you?”

Triston cleared his throat on the other end of the line, and flashbacks of late night flirting through a pink bedroom telephone at her ear teased her memory. The same golden voice dripping with honey.

It wasn’t going to melt her n
ow. She’d make sure of it.

“Hi, Ms. Winters. I’m in the lobby and had a question. Would it be possible to speak with you in person?”

The nerves, which badgered her earlier, fluttered, but didn’t find passage to her voice. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there momentarily.”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

Shannon stood, rubbed both hands against the navy pencil skirt, then smoothed the executive bun perched atop her head. Turning, she caught a broken reflection in the surface of the wall clock, confirming the long hair hadn’t escaped into untamed wisps. With a clenched jaw, she shook her head, certain her cheeks were two shades deeper than the blush allowed.

“You’re acting ridiculous, Shannon.” Her heart pattered a little bit harder beneath her breasts in confirmation. She breathed in and out a couple of times, fidgeted once more with her
clothing, and left the office.

*

Triston hung up the phone, picked up the glass ordered from the bar a few minutes earlier, and turned to the lobby. He wasn’t going to wait for her there. Let Shannon search a bit. Not a game, but if he could see her face before talking to her, maybe he’d get an idea if his suspicions were on track-if she remembered him-because knowing the options were good. If she didn’t, maybe he’d be able to cut the guilt loose without making a scene. It was obvious she didn’t care for those. But if she did, well, that was different. Then Shannon deserved every bit of graveling he could muster. She didn’t deserve his teenage hormones losing control like they had back then. If someone else’s legs and other attributes hadn’t caught his eye, at least he and Shannon could have broke up like most high schoolers did.

Triston took a sip and swallowed hard. Man, did she look good now. Pretty then, time had been more than kind. She matured in all kinds of breathtaking ways. Not something he’d expected, or at the least, he hadn’t given muc
h thought to the possibilities.

The fireplace, with its nautical trinkets lining the mantle, looked like an inconspicuous place to wait. He tucked moistening palms in his pockets with gritted teeth. Allowing her to see his nerves wouldn’t work. He wanted to apologize and let go, not look like a complete moron.

A couple passed by, their little girl in tow. The child with ringlets trapped in two ponytails, looked at him with a beaming smile, the parents not realizing she’d fallen behind.

“Keep up with your mommy and daddy, sweetie,” Triston said with a grin.

The sentiment was enough to catch her mother’s attention as she turned around and called the child by name with orders to keep up. Triston nodded once, and the mother thanked him as she gripped the girl’s small fingers. They turned the corner and disappeared. Nice to see things like that. He’d been wanting to settle down, have a family, but the right one hadn’t come along. He took a drink of pop and calmed his mind. Futures had a way of working themselves out. Once he dealt with this little issue from the past.

*

Voices from the lounge caught Shannon’s attention, but only for a moment as she passed through the lobby towards the house phones along the back wall and froze. Triston wasn’t where he should be. She scratched an itch on the back of the neck that wasn’t there, then craned her neck. No, no one was standing near the two house phones. Shannon peered over a shoulder, and caught sight of him standing near the fireplace against the far wall. Even in the crowd of people, it was easy to pick Triston out. He wasn’t tall compared to other men, and in new jeans, button down shirt and a blazer, he definitely was not the best dressed in the lobby. It was the glint of mischief in his eye, the way he stood, glass in one hand, other hand propped casually on his waist. Of all the millionaires, Wall Street execs and Hollywood royalty passing through the Grande, not one exuded the same suave magnetism.

Shannon tilted her head, a soft curve turning her lips upwards as Triston’s eyes caught hers. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. He could keep all the natural charisma in check
. It meant nothing to her.

Shannon strode over to him and held a hand out as professionally as she could muster. “Mr. Keyes.”

He took of sip of soft drink-Pepsi, it looked like-and smiled. “Come on, Shannon. Don’t Mr. Keyes me.” Triston winked. “Did you really think I didn’t know who you were? Didn’t recognize you?”

Her mouth went dry, palms moist, but her mind reprimanded the reactions. There was no allowance for expired affects to her heart. Or how foolish she felt. Her lips curled. “I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. That was a hundred lifetimes ago, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged, a strange glint in his eye. “I guess. But it doesn’t seem like it, standing next to you now.”

She laughed. “Oh no you don’t, Triston. Don’t play Mr. Smooth with me. I know you, and the games you play. I’m married now, see?” She held up the meaningless wedding band. It was a good thing he didn’t realize its insignificance. “And I know how you operate. No sweeping me off my feet this time.”

His lips tightened into a pucker before spreading into the half grin which showed off dimples so nicely. “I was pretty good at doing that, once upon a time.”

“Yes, like I said, a hundred lifetimes ago. I’ve learned a thing or two since then, and things change.”

He shrugged, head dropping to the side. “I guess. But not everything. Some things remain the same, don’t they?”

“I suppose.” She studied him for a second, searching for the angle he was playing. It was hidden well, or absent. Seeing through Triston had never been one of Shannon’s strong suits. If it had, she would have figured out the truth before it had broken her heart. She dropped her head momentarily, then met his eyes with a hardened gaze. “But not that. I learned that lesson a long time ago. The hard way, if I remember correctly.”

Triston’s face fell. “I am really, truly sorry about that. You can’t know …”

Shannon held a hand up. “Really Triston. It was a long time ago. There’s no need. Besides, I think we’ve both moved past that, haven’t we?”

He smiled a sad sort of smile. “I guess we have.” Triston paused for a moment, scanned around the lobby, gesturing to the wide expanse. “You’ve done really well for yourself. This hotel is amazing. The room upstairs is really… amazing.”

She nodded and smiled. Compliments on the Grande always made her smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I love it here, love my work.” At least that was something she could be proud of, something she’d done right.

He nodded. “And you’re married now.”

Shannon’s smile vanished. “Yes, I am,” her voice fell flat to her ears. She meant to give it a little more spark, and silently reprimanded herself. Lying to him had never been as easy as he found deceiving her to be.

“Not happily? I’m surprised. I hear he’s a Wall Street broker or something. Successful.”

“Money and success isn’t everything. We’ve got our trials. But every couple does right?” Shannon flinched. She wasn’t doing a good job of masking her discomfort. Time to change the subject. “How about you and … Jennifer, isn’t it?”

Triston shrugged. “We’ve been together for a while. She’s a nice lady, but nothing is written in stone for either of us yet.’

Bitterness scratched at the back of her throat as her jaw dropped and then closed. She was right. Nothing had changed. Not one little bit. “Nice, Triston. So you just like to throw money away on places like the Grande for a relationship that’s disposable?”

“Everyone needs a vacation, don’t they?”

Shannon shook her head, dumbfounded. “You said on the phone you had a question for me?”

A disarming wink curled her toes and pulled loose strings long bound together. Disgust waged a battle within against more generous sentiments, and her lips pressed together. He wasn’t going to win this time.

“I told a little fib. Just wanted to talk to you for a minute. You know, catch up.” Triston took another drink of the soda. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

How unbelievable. He was still lying, still making lines up to meet his needs. “I have to get back to work Triston. It was nice talking with you again. Enjoy your stay here at the Grande.”

*

Watching Shannon walk away sent chills up Triston’s spine. There. He’d done it. It didn’t go the way he planned, exactly, but the apology was out of the way, and even if Shannon did seem a touch bitter, she had the right. He’d done what he’d come to do, now he could go upstairs, find Jennifer and take that ride down river, check out some of the old mansions people made such a big deal out of. Vanderbilt and, whatever. He took another sip of pop and rested it on a nearby coffee table. A lot of money had been spent to take this vacation, and it didn’t come as easily to him as Triston imagined it did for others here at the Grande. He was not going to waste another penny sitting around, wondering how Shannon was doing. She said it was a long time ago, and she was right. He could leave it at that.

He sauntered towards the elevator, eyes trained on the hallway ahead. Good thing it was settled, he didn’t have to feel guilty anymore. Twenty years of burying a pesky ache didn’t make sense. “Grow some,” Triston muttered, and puffed his chest out. It was in the past, he’d never have to think
of Shannon again. A good thing.

But as he pressed the call button, eyes straying further down the corridor, he wondered if it was so much in the past, why did he hope to see her there?