The Downfall of a Good Girl Page 2

  This just sucked. She’d headed enough fundraisers to know that Connor was a gift from the fundraising gods. The money would pour in and the publicity would be unreal. The rational, reasonable part of her mind applauded Max Hale’s choice and envied his ability to get Connor to agree to participate.

  But Connor Mansfield? Argh. If she had to be paired with a musical superstar, why couldn’t they have picked any one of the other dozens of musical legends who called New Orleans home? But, no, they had to get maximum mileage by bringing Connor in, especially since he was very much the biggest Sinner in the media right now.

  From the top table she had an excellent view of the entire ballroom. The guest list was a Who’s Who of New Orleans’ rich and powerful, and she knew every face in the crowd. And everyone in the room knew damn well that they hated each other.

  Hated was the wrong word. People liked to toss it around, but she didn’t hate Connor. She disliked him a hell of a lot, but hate implied more energy than she was willing to commit. She and Connor were just not meant to occupy the same time-space continuum. Connor was the one person who could make her blood boil just by breathing. Any conversation was just asking for an anger-induced stroke.

  She felt a headache forming behind her left eye.

  From the looks being tossed their way, every person in that room knew exactly how much she hated being up here with Connor and found it endlessly amusing. There were probably bets being taken right this second that they’d witness a repeat of that ball ten years ago when the Queen had slapped the King ten minutes after their coronation.

  Connor had completely deserved it, but it had taken her forever to live that down nonetheless. It had even come up a few months later, in her interview during the Mississippi River Princess pageant, with the implication that she had a penchant for making unseemly scenes that would be detrimental to the title. She’d learned quite a bit about handling herself and her image after that, so in an odd way Connor had helped fuel her pageant success. Still, that night had pretty much been the final straw, and she and Connor had kept a healthy distance from then on unless forced otherwise by circumstance.

  But then Connor’s music had started to take off, and he’d spent more time out of town than in it. Within a few years he’d become a rising superstar and their paths had ceased to cross entirely. Bliss.

  She would console herself with the knowledge that Ash Wednesday was only four weeks away, and Connor would go back to Los Angeles or New York or wherever his home base was now, and her life would go back to normal. It was a small consolation, but consolation nonetheless.

  Could she put up with him for that long? Without blowing her top? They were adults now: older, wiser, more mature. Maybe things could be different. She risked a sideways glance.

  Probably not.

  Everything about Connor projected smug arrogance. He was overly sure of himself, always seeming to have that mocking smile on his face as if he was laughing at her. Even sitting there, dressed like Lucifer on his way to a Pride parade, he still managed to look confident and cocksure.

  Ms. Rene had put him in black leather—not only the pants she’d mocked him about earlier, but also a black sleeveless vest and motorcycle boots. Strips of studded black leather circled his biceps, drawing attention to the powerful bulges no one would expect a piano-playing singer to have.

  It was a nice contrast to her all-white satin and feather combo. But where her costume veered to the demure and saintly, Connor’s screamed sex: the leather fit him like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. While Ms. Rene had covered every exposed inch of her skin with body glitter, Connor’s skin had been oiled to give him an otherworldly sheen.

  He was tall, dark and dangerous personified—from the dark hair that hung a little too long to the goatee that framed his mouth…She swallowed hard. Her love of art gave her an appreciation for beauty, but this was not just male beauty. There was virility, strength, passion. It was hard not to appreciate Connor on that level. Connor looked up, caught her glance, and grinned a lady-killer smile that crinkled the corners of his rich brown eyes.

  It was enough to melt any woman—at least until he opened his mouth.

  “Problem, Vivi?”

  “Just surprised by your goatee. Lose your razor while you were on tour?”

  He rubbed a hand over it. “I thought it went with the costume. Maybe made me look a little devilish, you know.”

  “It’s as ridiculous as the pants,” she lied, and went back to her dinner. Connor looked devilish, dangerous, sexy and ready to steal a dozen female souls.

  And the women probably wouldn’t even put up much of a fight. Women loved Connor.

  Who was she kidding? Everyone loved Connor, praised his talents, celebrated his success. That was one of the reasons why everyone made such a big deal out of the fact that she didn’t.

  She wasn’t a hundred percent sure why or how it all started, but in the twenty-five years she’d known Connor she couldn’t remember a single time when he had not irritated her to the point of justifiable homicide.

  And it wasn’t like she was evil. She liked people. Connor was the only person on the planet who affected her in that way, and she dealt with all kinds of irritating people all the time. She was known for her people skills. Those skills just didn’t extend to cover annoying man-child rock stars.

  As he’d said, he was, literally, the boy next door. Their mothers were on twelve charitable committees together and did lunch twice a week. Their fathers played golf and did business together. She’d spent her whole life hearing about how great Connor was. Sometimes it was like their entire social circle existed merely to live in the shadow of his greatness. They were the same age, went to the same prep school, had many of the same friends, and folks had been pushing them at each other since puberty.

  It didn’t seem to matter to anyone that they didn’t like each other, and that Connor went out of his way to annoy her whenever possible.

  People were shallow. They let good looks and talent outweigh deep personality flaws.

  Or else she was just the lucky recipient of whatever the reverse of charm was. Connor didn’t care about much beyond his own universe—which he was the center of, of course—so it irked her no end that he’d been chosen this year to co-lead the fundraising drive. This was supposed to be about other people, but now it would be all about him.

  Losing the Saints and Sinners competition would suck regardless, but losing to Connor would just be more than her pride could stand.

  And pride was all that was keeping her in her seat at the moment. She’d need to draw on that pride to save her in the coming weeks.

  Conscientious eating kept her from having to make any kind of conversation, and she used the time to mentally flip through her Rolodex and plan out new strategies. She needed to think big—beyond just New Orleans. That would be tough, though, for most of the world had forgotten about the city once the Katrina news left the spotlight.

  She could involve her sorority for sure. Maybe she could go to the national level. Hell, she needed to get the whole Greek Council involved. All of her pageant connections, up to and including that former Miss Indiana, every favor she was owed was going to have to be called in. She needed to get creative, since all Connor had to do was smile and the money and the votes would pile up.

  Ugh. She’d spent weeks looking forward to this, hugging the secret to herself and looking forward to everything Saints and Sinners entailed. But now…All the joy and excitement had been sucked out of it. Her heart sank as she accepted the reality that, despite her efforts, she was probably going to lose through no fault of her own. That brief moment onstage when she’d congratulated herself for the accomplishment felt foolish now. They’d probably just picked her to add contrast and interest to Connor’s selection. She hated Connor just a little more.

  No. She gave herself a strong mental shake. She would not let Connor take that from her. She’d earned this title.

  And, while she might
lose the competition, by God she was going to make it as close as possible. At least she’d keep her dignity and gain satisfaction for a job well done for a good cause.

  Dignity. Hmm…How was she going to keep her dignity through all of this?

  A wicked idea pinged and the more she thought about it, the better it sounded.

  She couldn’t control Connor or the contest, but she could control herself. She’d been chosen to be the Saint. She just needed to be saintly and gracious. In contrast, Connor would look like an arrogant schmuck and go slowly insane at the same time. It would be a small victory, but she’d take it nonetheless.

  She set her fork down carefully and reached for her wineglass. “Connor?”

  “Yes, Vivi?”

  She raised the glass in a toast, and Connor’s look turned wary. “To a good competitor and a good cause. I’m looking forward to the adventure, because the real winners are the people and the communities we’re going to help. I’m glad you came home to be a part of it.”

  Connor’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline in his shock, but he recovered quickly and picked up his glass. As he touched it to hers she heard a rumble skitter over the crowd, and there was a strobe of flashes. She put on her very best I’m-so-happy-to-be-first-runner-up smile.

  The look that crossed Connor’s face made it all worthwhile. This might be fun after all.

  It was certainly going to be satisfying.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT WAS well after midnight by the time Vivi made it home. The clubs on Frenchman Street were going strong, and though it was January, the nights were mild enough that a sweatshirt provided enough warmth. All the tables on the sidewalks were packed. In some places the crowds spilled out into the street, and she had to slow almost to a crawl to avoid pedestrians the last few blocks before turning into her driveway. She’d grown up on the tree-lined quiet streets of the Garden District, so adjusting to the much more active nightlife of the Marigny Triangle had been difficult at first, but now she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Coming home always made her smile.

  Sam, her neighbor, was on his porch, drinking a beer and listening to the buskers in Washington Square. He waved and called out, “Congrats, Saint Vivi.”

  Lorelei had probably spread the news. “Thanks, Sam.” She should stop and talk for a few minutes, but she was exhausted, her head was pounding, and her cheeks ached from all the smiling. Plus, the straps from the harness that had held her wings on had chafed against her skin, irritating her almost as much as Connor.

  All she wanted to do was wash off the glitter and go to bed. She needed to be up early in the morning to work the phone lines. Another glass of wine was tempting, but sleep would work just as well against the Connor-induced headache.

  But, unsurprisingly, Lorelei had waited up for her. They hadn’t had much time at the Saints and Sinners Ball to talk beyond quick congratulations.

  “There she is,” Lorelei sang to a familiar tune. “Saint Vi-vi-enne.”

  Vivi obligingly did her pageant wave and wiped away an imaginary tear before dropping her purse and bags and sinking onto the couch next to Lorelei with a sigh.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Vivi.”

  “It was top secret stuff. I found out just after Thanksgiving, so I’d have time to make the necessary arrangements to my schedule. It’s going to be really busy between now and Mardi Gras.”

  “We’re all so proud. Mama and Daddy were about to burst with it.”

  “I noticed. But I hope you’re rethinking your annual pledge of allegiance to the Sinners now. I’m counting on your support.”

  Lorelei crinkled her nose. “But the Sinners are much more fun.”

  “Don’t make me play the sister card.”

  “You sure you want me? Your halo might be tarnished by association.”

  “Repent, reform and sin no more, my child.”

  Lorelei snorted. “Don’t push your luck. One saint is plenty for the LaBlanc family, and it isn’t going to be me. That’s your job.”

  “Yep.” They’d had similar conversations before, but for the first time she felt a small stab of envy for Lorelei’s freedom before she stomped it down. Adopting a bit of Lorelei’s attitude might make the next few weeks easier. She kicked off her shoes and leaned back. “Okay, just aim for temporary sainthood. A couple of weeks won’t kill you.”

  “But it will still be painful…” Lorelei wrinkled her nose again. She liked to play the bad girl too much for comfort, but somehow it worked for her. “You know, no one has ever considered me saint-like in any way. It will be a challenge.” Lorelei squared her shoulders. “And LaBlancs love a challenge.”

  “Amen.”

  “Speaking of challenges…” Lorelei started, and Vivi knew what was coming next “…you did quite well not ripping Connor’s head off at the ball.”

  Vivi felt herself snarl. “I totally understand the choice—it’s great PR, money will come rolling in, blah, blah, blah—but, yeesh. Is there wine?”

  “I’ll pour.” Lorelei disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two glasses. “I have to agree that it’s brilliant PR, but you need to be careful.”

  “I promise it will be justifiable homicide. I won’t ask you to bail me out of jail.”

  Lorelei leveled a look at her. “Do I really need to bring up your coronation ball?”

  “No. I’ve already had those flashbacks tonight.”

  “Good. Remember you don’t want to look bad, so you’re the one who’s going to have to be gracious.”

  Vivi raised her glass in a mock toast. “Luckily I came to that conclusion on my own earlier.”

  “That explains your good behavior.” Lorelei returned the toast. “Good for you, Vivi. You’re growing as a person.”

  Vivi snorted into her glass and earned a suspicious look from Lorelei. “Vivienne LaBlanc, what did you do?”

  The smile was hard to fight, but Vivi would stick to the truth regardless. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  The suspicious look sharpened. “What did you do?”

  “I was gracious, kind and friendly. Perfectly saint-like.”

  “Exactly the actions that will make Connor wonder if you poisoned his meal.”

  Vivi bit back the laugh and shrugged instead. “I can’t control Connor’s thoughts or behavior. If he wants to look foolish and juvenile, he’ll have to go there alone.”

  “You know that I find you two endlessly entertaining, but honestly, Vivi—”

  She held up a hand. “Lorelei, don’t start. Why do we have to go through this every single time Connor’s name is mentioned?”

  “Because it’s just ridiculous. I like Connor—”

  “I know. You started his fan club.”

  A pink flush climbed up her neck. “Someone had to.”

  “Three years before his first record came out?”

  Lorelei tried to brush it off. “He’s a nice guy, you know.”

  “You barely know him.”

  “I know enough. I know he’s had some bad PR recently—”

  Vivi nearly choked. “Bad PR? Good Lord, Lorelei, the man’s fresh off a scandal that covered the tabloids for weeks.”

  “The DNA tests cleared him of paternity.”

  “That only means he wasn’t the father and escaped child support. The rest…”

  “You’re taking the tabloids at face value? I can’t believe that. You’re always telling me not to jump to judgment of people based on rumors.”

  “No one is rushing to judgment. I’m just saying that you don’t really know him—at least not now that he’s an adult. And you know nothing of his sex life beyond chatter in the high school bathrooms. Who knows what he’s really into?”

  Lorelei shook her head. “I don’t believe Connor could change that much.”

  “He lives a life we can’t even begin to imagine.”

  “Still, I stand by my earlier assertion that he’s a good guy.”

  Vivi shook her head. “I h
ad no idea you could be swayed by good looks alone.”

  That earned her a cheeky smile. “At least you admit he’s good-looking.”

  “I’m not blind. I just know that a pretty face can hide an evil heart.”

  “Another scar from your pageant battles, Vivi?”

  One of many. “Oh, hush. I’m not saying Connor’s a serial killer in his spare time. I just don’t like him.”

  “Then tell me why.” Expectation written all over her face, Lorelei leaned back into the corner of the couch and stared at her. “And I mean it. No wiggling out.”

  Vivi struggled for words. She was really too fried to handle deep conversations tonight. Charm and personality were like superpowers, and both Lorelei and Connor had them in spades. Connor, though, had turned supervillain with his, and used those powers for evil instead of good. Lorelei had never used her superpowers against Vivi or anyone else to get something she wanted. Lorelei didn’t use people the way Connor did. So it probably made it hard for her to see how someone else could.

  Vivi sighed because it was just too hard to put into words. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never met a single person that you didn’t like? Who just rubbed you the wrong way?”

  “Of course I have, but I’m not you. You like everyone. Everyone likes you. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever seen remotely close to an actual saint, so this irrational and extremely juvenile head-butting with Connor just isn’t you. It doesn’t make sense.” Her blue eyes narrowed and sisterly concern crept into her voice. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Did Connor…?”

  I do not need that kind of rumor floating around. “No. There’s nothing dark or evil lurking.”

  “There were all those rumors around the time you were Mississippi River Princess…”

  “And they nearly cost me the crown. But none of them were remotely true.”

  She saw Lorelei wasn’t totally convinced. Funny that she’d never mentioned those rumors bothered her before now.