The Downfall of a Good Girl Read online

  “But I’m taking it as such, and I won’t let you take it back, either.”

  “Only you.”

  “Only me, what?”

  Connor merely shrugged.

  His attitude damped her happy glow and nearly snapped her temper. “You know, just because you don’t like me, you shouldn’t be so shocked that others do.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You certainly seem shocked that folks might like me even though you don’t.”

  “No, I know exactly why people like you. You’re charming and glib and talented. You’re also quite handsome.”

  “Why, thank you, Vivi.”

  He said it so grudgingly she wanted to smack him. “Like I said, there are plenty of reasons for people to like you. I’m just not that shallow. And I know you better than that.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Uh-huh. You’re charming because it gets you what you want from people, and you’re glib because you don’t really care all that much. You’re crazy talented—I won’t deny that. And I know you’ve worked hard, so I give you proper credit there, too. I also know you can be very petty, extremely superficial and completely self-centered. Oh, and your ego is suffocatingly immense.” Wow, saying that felt good.

  “While, you, Miss Vivi, are sanctimonious and supercilious. You are dismissive to anyone or anything that doesn’t meet your standards. And I don’t know what’s more insufferable—your pride or your superiority complex.”

  They were trading insults, but it still hurt. “You’re the insufferable one. Plus, you’re…mean.”

  “Mean?” He snorted. “Great, now we’re ten years old again.”

  “No, when we were ten we were still sort of friends. It wasn’t until puberty that you became a jerk.”

  “All teenage boys are jerks. It’s called testosterone.”

  She nearly choked on her temper. “That’s your excuse? Testosterone?”

  “It’s an explanation, not an excuse.”

  “You’re such a jerk, you can’t even apologize.”

  “Hi, Pot. I’m Kettle. I think we’re on equal ground, sweetheart.”

  The condescending “sweetheart” broke her hold on the last strings of her temper. “Two words—Marie Lester.”

  “Who?”

  “Wow, you don’t even remember. That’s pitiful.” She didn’t care if she sounded sanctimonious. She had reason to be. “Marie Lester—the girl from Alabama who moved here junior year.”

  “Oh, yeah. What about her?”

  “You used me to get to her for no reason other than to stroke your ego. You made me your accomplice. And you played—” She stopped before she let the rest of that out. “That’s a character flaw that can’t be chalked up to testosterone.”

  “That’s why you slapped me at coronation?”

  “Uh-huh. You deserved it.”

  “And you’re still stewing over that? That’s some grudge you’ve got going on there.”

  “Marie was my friend, and she never forgave me.”

  “She moved away the next year.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is your point, Vivi?”

  “I have yet to see any real reason to believe that’s not still part of your personality. You came to me looking for a cease-fire then, too. You took me to the movies, walked me home from school…” She choked on the words. “Then I found out I was nothing more than a means to an end. And neither then nor now do you see the problem with that.”

  He leveled a stare at her until the silence became tense. “You’re right. That was a jerk move. I will offer a blanket apology for everything that happened from the time we were twelve until we were twenty-five. Teenagers—specifically teenage boys—are a different breed. I probably was a jerk. But now that my frontal lobe is fully developed I would really like to quit being condemned based on something that happened years ago.”

  That was an eye-opening concession on Connor’s part. Vivi was about to accept and offer an apology of her own when he opened his mouth again.

  “What’s your excuse, Vivi?”

  He just couldn’t quit while he was ahead. That was good. It worked wonders at negating all those earlier conflicting feelings and disturbing thoughts.

  “I’ve had just about enough of this fun for tonight.” Vivi pushed to her feet and banged on the door, calling for help until her hands throbbed and her throat felt scratchy. No one came. She leaned against it in defeat and let her head fall back. “This is a nightmare.”

  Connor stacked his hands behind his head and grinned at her. “Some women would consider being locked in with me a dream come true.” Mercy, he really did look just like Satan, dangling temptation.

  She closed her eyes against the sight. “They’re deluded. And stupid.”

  “This isn’t exactly my idea of a fun time either.”

  Vivi scrubbed her hands over her face. “God, this is going to be even worse than Mike Delacroix’s party.”

  “This was an accident.”

  “So we say. We’re hiding in a closet in the middle of a party. How we got locked in that closet doesn’t matter beyond the humor factor. No one’s going to believe that this was totally innocent, and I’m a laughingstock either way.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “Oh, really?” His condescending nod had her fingernails digging into her palms as she kept her fists at her sides. “No one’s going to believe that you dragged me in here, so I will be the assumed dragger instead of the dragee. If nothing happened after I dragged you into a closet, it’s obvious that you’re immune to my advances. Cue the laughter at my expense. If something did happen, then I’m just another one of Connor Mansfield’s many groupies. Either way you win, I lose. It’s tenth grade all over again. At least I don’t have a boyfriend to dump me this time.” She banged her head against the door gently.

  “You’re right, Vivi.”

  “Pardon me if that admission doesn’t exactly fill me with the glee and satisfaction it normally would.”

  “We’ll just tell everyone that I dragged you in here to seduce you, but you declined the offer.”

  “Like anyone would believe that.”

  “You can punch me in the face. The bruise should be enough proof.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  He stood and lifted his chin, daring her. “Go ahead. Take a shot. You can’t tell me you’re not dying to anyway. I’ll look like a horn dog and your virtue will be redeemed.”

  There had to be a trap here someplace. “But why would you do that?”

  “Because in the grand scheme of things one musician trying to seduce one beautiful girl really isn’t news.”

  “Why would you decide to seduce me? And why now after all these years?”

  There was that little smirk again. “Maybe the groupies aren’t as plentiful as you seem to believe.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Why is it so hard to believe that I’m not that indiscriminate about my sexual partners?”

  “Because that’s not what I heard.”

  His jaw tightened. She’d hit a nerve. “Yeah, well a lot of people have heard that. That doesn’t make it true. And the woman has been proved a liar.”

  “Only in that you didn’t father her baby.”

  “I can’t say for certain that I never met the woman, because I meet a lot of people, but I think I’d remember sleeping with her. Especially considering her description of the event.”

  “You’re telling me it’s inaccurate?”

  “I’m not sure half of what she claimed happened is even possible. And if it is possible, it probably shouldn’t be legal.”

  He certainly seemed sincere. “So why take the paternity test?”

  “Denials weren’t making it—or her—go away. Do you know how damn hard it is to prove you didn’t do something?”

  It would be. People liked to believe the worst. Plus, Connor had no reason to lie to her, of all people. It wasn’t as if he real
ly worried about what she thought of him. Strangely, though, it made a difference to her to know he wasn’t some kind of player, regardless of the rumors. She didn’t like the fact that it did make a difference, though.

  “Want to know why famous people usually date other famous people?” Connor asked.

  “So you can be fabulous together?”

  “No. It’s self-protection in the form of mutual annihilation. When you have nothing to gain and a lot to lose, you’re more likely to keep your mouth shut.”

  Vivi had nothing to say to that. It was a sad state of affairs, and she felt a stab of pity. It must have shown on her face because Connor scowled at her.

  “It still doesn’t mean anyone would believe you’d try to seduce me. I’m not famous, and everyone knows you don’t even like me,” she said.

  “But who would blame me for trying? Vivi LaBlanc is the city’s sweetheart. Smart, beautiful…saintly. Sexy. People would question my masculinity if I didn’t at least try, right?”

  There was a bit of snark behind the words, but not enough to completely counter the funny effect they had on her insides. She tried to ignore them. “You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?”

  His voice dropped a notch. “You’re assuming none of it is true. And I can be very convincing when I need to be. You’ll be the envy of half the women in the city, yet retain the respect of all.”

  A shiver ran over her. “Except for the ones who’ll think I was stupid to pass up the chance.”

  “Well, we all must live with regrets.”

  Connor’s voice was hypnotic, and his eyes were hooded as they roamed over her. It would be too easy forget it was part of the overall act, the cover story to salvage her pride.

  “You are beautiful, Vivi. Your hair…Your eyes…Your skin.” His fingers followed his words. “Your mouth—including that sharp tongue—is enough to drive a man crazy.” Connor’s lips quirked up. “In more ways than one, that is.”

  Those talented fingers traced over her shoulder and down her arm. Tingles danced across her skin and her blood felt thick in her veins. It might not be real, but her body didn’t know the difference and her mind was happy to play along ignorantly. The air felt close and heavy, and she couldn’t hear the engines above the thudding of her own pulse. She watched the rise and fall of Connor’s chest as the weight of his stare and the silence built to a crushing level that made her knees weak.

  Connor leaned forward, his chest barely brushing hers each time they breathed, and his head dropped until his lips were level to her ear. The slight breeze of his breath over the lobe sent a shiver arcing all the way to her core as a hand snaked around her waist to her lower back, edging her closer. The hard lines of Connor’s body seared into hers. The air turned thick, each breath filling her lungs with his scent.

  “You could tempt a saint, Vivi, much less a simple sinner like me. Resistance is a battle. One I’m not sure I want to win.” He paused, letting the words hang, and her hand floated up of its own accord to land on his chest. The muscle leapt at her touch and she could feel the thump of his heart against her palm. An ache started to build in her core.

  “Ready to punch me now?”

  The words were a bucket of cold water that doused the rising heat and left shame in its place. She shoved him away.

  Connor stumbled and caught himself on the wall. Righting himself, he shook like a wet dog and focused on her face. “You were supposed to hit me. A shove won’t leave a bruise.”

  “Just shut up.” She swallowed hard. She’d never hit another human being before, didn’t think she’d be capable of it, but Connor might be the one to change all of that. Not because of what he’d done, but because of her reaction to it.

  She took a deep breath, but whether it was to calm herself or prepare herself to berate him she’d never know, because cold air rushed in as the door opened. The same crew member from earlier stood there with his mouth open. The shock seemed to ricochet off the metal walls.

  Connor recovered first. “We thought you’d never come back.”

  “I j-just needed to get some glasses…” He started to step back outside.

  Vivi scanned the deck behind him. Empty. Thankfully it was just the three of them. No one else was there to witness this. She cleared her throat and smiled at the gaping man. “Connor and I stepped in here to speak privately out of the wind, not realizing you’d be back to lock the door. We’ve been shouting, but no one could hear us.”

  His face reddened. “I’m so sorry, Miss LaBlanc, Mr. Mansfield.”

  “Not as sorry as we are.” Connor grinned at the young man. “But no harm, no foul. We won’t mention this if you won’t.”

  The threat was subtle, but the young man caught it and nodded. “Of course. I appreciate it. I don’t want to get into trouble with the captain.”

  Connor grabbed Vivi’s wings and held the door for her to step through. The man stood there, probably in shock, but possibly a little starstruck too, as they left. The wind had picked up while they were locked away, and it blew Vivi’s hair into her face. While that would normally be annoying, Vivi didn’t try to right it. It meant she didn’t have to look at Connor.

  “You go on inside,” he said as they walked. “I’ll follow in a minute or two. If anyone asks, don’t deny you were with me. Just don’t say where. If that guy decides to talk later, a denial you were ever with me will make you look guilty.” She nodded, and he handed her the wings. “Don’t worry. I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. And if it becomes one, we’ll just go back to the other plan.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Vivi, I never say anything I don’t mean. Now, go.”

  The noise of the party seemed ten times louder after being in that closet for so long. But no one gave her a second glance as she left her wings by the door and went to the bar for a glass of water. People spoke to her as she made her way through the crowd, but it was the same basic chatter. No one seemed to have noticed she and Connor had been rather conspicuously absent at the same time. Relief rushed through her as she pushed open the door to the ladies’ room and checked her reflection. Other than a slight pinkness to her cheeks and a rather chaotic hairstyle—both of which could be chalked up to the wind on deck—nothing looked amiss.

  I never say anything I don’t mean. She thought about everything Connor had said and the statement began to sound vaguely ominous—if only because of her reaction to his words. Just replaying those moments in her mind had her nipples tightening against the silk lining of her dress and her thighs clenching in anticipation.

  This is not good. Not good at all.

  She pressed a hand to her belly to calm the butterflies there. She might not have a public problem, but she sure as hell had a private one.

  They’d been locked in that closet for over an hour. It had felt like a lifetime, but with several hundred people on board—and the flow of cocktails probably helped—no one had found it noteworthy that neither he nor Vivi had been seen for a while. Everyone had just assumed the two of them were someplace else—not necessarily together, because…well, why would they be? Connor didn’t bother to correct any assumptions.

  When they finally docked, he and Vivi were forced back into the shared spotlight in a reverse receiving line. Though they were side by side, Vivi kept her attention on the guests, barely throwing a single glance his way.

  Then, with a simple “See ya,” Vivi followed the last guest down the gangplank.

  Normally Connor wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but Vivi had been in his thoughts a lot recently. And after tonight…Well, Vivi was pretty much all he could think about, and none of it made any sense at all.

  The chauffeur dropped him in front of Gabe’s building. There had been huge crowds of revelers on Bourbon, but the crowds were thinner here, and most of the people were either too intoxicated or too focused on their own good time to pay him any notice at all.

  Good, because I’m really not in the mood tonight.<
br />
  The kind of mood he was in was easy to pinpoint and name. His whole body thrummed with want, but it was a specific want. Vivi. And that didn’t make any sense at all.

  Why now? Why after all these years did he suddenly have the hots for Vivi LaBlanc? He’d crossed a line tonight, taken everything a step too far, and the next thing he knew he’d had Vivi in his arms, just seconds from kissing her.

  While he tried to remind himself that Vivi was his self-proclaimed mortal enemy, she’d certainly shown a new side of herself to him tonight—in between insults, at least. And when he tried to remind himself that he didn’t like Vivi—had never liked Vivi—his body was quick to argue that wasn’t entirely true. Her confession that had stopped just short of admitting that she might have had different feelings toward him once upon a time didn’t help either.

  The normal litany of reasons he could usually recite failed him. Insanity was the only explanation that made sense.

  He dropped his keys on the table and propped his wings against the wall. At least he wouldn’t have to wear this outfit again until Fat Tuesday. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he drank half of it in one long swallow as he went to the bathroom and pulled off the leather pants and vest. A long, slightly cooler than normal shower helped him clear his head and focus, but it did nothing to take the edge off.

  Sleep was out of the question, so he pulled on a pair of sweats and went to the kitchen for another beer. He could see himself needing several tonight. And if the mental replay couldn’t be stopped, he’d need another, much colder shower soon.

  The intercom buzzed loudly in the silence. It was most likely a lost tourist or random drunk, but he answered anyway.

  “It’s Vivi.”

  His hand slammed the release button before the words were even completely out of her mouth. He didn’t bother to question why she’d suddenly appeared, didn’t really care. The jolt to his system caused by her voice honed that earlier dull edge to painful sharpness. As he opened the door to the stairwell, he heard the outside door close and the sounds of feet on the stairs. It was the sound of a slow climb, but a purposeful one. When Vivi rounded the last landing she looked up and saw him. Her feet seemed to stall, and she climbed the last flight at a snail’s pace, not quite holding eye contact, but not staring at her feet either. She’d changed from the satin column of her Saint costume into jeans and a battered jacket zipped up to her neck.