The Downfall of a Good Girl (12 page)

Those blue eyes were wide and luminous. “So we let it play out?”

“Yeah. Can you do that? Just wait and see what happens?”

There was that silence again that had him holding his breath. He felt a bit foolish.

Finally Vivi nodded. “I think so. I’ll try, at least.” “That’s all I ask, Vivi.” In reality, he knew he was asking a lot from her, and he was beyond relieved to see her nod. He leaned down to give her a kiss, only to have her jump back when someone knocked on the door.

Vivi’s smile twisted. “They’re looking for us.”

“Of course they are. Come on.” He tucked her hand in his and opened the door.

Vivi wasn’t the only one in uncharted waters. This was completely new for him, too. Usually, though, he liked uncharted waters. They were exciting. They kept life interesting.

He’d just never gone off without a map in his personal life before.

He reminded himself that he hadn’t made it this far without taking chances. Vivi seemed to be a chance he was willing to take. One that might be worth taking.

And that was a new feeling.

Although few would believe it, Connor hadn’t been home for a single parade in years. There just hadn’t been time. Even fewer would believe that after such a hiatus Connor Mansfield wouldn’t be part of the throngs of people on the streets partying—after all, that was part of the brand he’d built.

No one would believe, though, that he’d spend Saturday—the first major day of revelry—at a family friend’s house on St. Charles Street, eating burgers off the grill and watching the parades from a balcony set back from the road and separated from the people by a large fence. It wasn’t quiet by any stretch of the imagination—not between the crowds and the thirty or so people gathered in the Devereauxes’ home—but the fence separated the public bacchanal from the family party nicely.

Angie, fresh off an afternoon on Bourbon Street, looked a little worse for wear when she returned around sunset. Angie was in her forties, her dark blond hair showing small streaks of gray like highlights. Seeing his all-business, L.A.-glam agent in jeans, with her usually perfectly coiffed hair askew and piles of colorful beads ringing her neck, was almost amusing.

“Wow! I kinda love this town,” she said.

“It does have its charms.”

“But to leave the French Quarter—which was almost scary at times—to come here…” She looked pointedly at
the group of kids playing in the yard and the tables full of food. “It’s a bit of a disconnect.”

“This is how I remember most Mardi Gras growing up. I did the crazier stuff in high school, but as a kid…Well, all kids love a parade, right?”

“Not quite Norman Rockwell, but still very family-friendly. I wouldn’t have believed it.”

He smiled as he offered her another beer. “You might as well get comfortable and grab something to eat. We have a little time before the parade arrives.”

“And you’ll be on one of those floats on Tuesday, right?”

“Yep. The Sinner and the Saint and the whole court. Bon Argent doesn’t run its own parade, but since it’s a charity krewe, another krewe is more than willing to let us parade with them every year.”

Surprise crossed Angie’s face. “
Us?
You’ve joined up or something?”

“Of course. Membership for the Saint and Sinner is honorary, if they’re not already members, but they’ve asked me to serve on the board next year.”

“And you’re going to do it?”

Why was Angie looking at him like that? “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“As your agent, I should probably know about these things before they’re a done deal.”

“It’s a volunteer position. I don’t get paid for it, so it doesn’t really require your input.”

“It’s not the money, Connor. Your plate is quite full at the moment—”

“And you would know, since you’re the one filling it,” he interrupted.

She smiled like that was a compliment. “You seem to be trying to rearrange everything to center around New Orleans.”

“Everyone needs a home base. I’ve decided to make my home my home base.”

Angie sighed and shook her head. “This is Vivi’s influence on you, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“I feel like I’m staging an intervention.” Setting down her beer, Angie clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “I like Vivi. She’s a nice girl, and a role model for many, but she’s not
your
role model.” She looked over to where Vivi, Lorelei and Jennie Devereaux were loading yet more food—and a King Cake—onto an already groaning table. “I know you’re enjoying this, but don’t screw up everything we’ve worked so hard for over the years.”

We’ve. Like it had been a real joint effort
. “I’m not screwing anything up. I’m just enjoying the benefits.”

“Good.” Angie nodded like a bobble-head doll. “Do that. Everyone should. Vivi certainly is, but you have a lot more to lose.”

He was not in the mood for this. “Angie, if there’s something you want to say, just say it. Quit beating around the bu sh.”

“All right, then. I find it very interesting that out of nowhere you hook up with some local girl—”

“It’s not out of nowhere,” he corrected. “I’ve known Vivi my whole life.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Oh, it sounds all romantic, but when did you start believing your own lyrics? Step back for a minute. You yourself told me how this girl has hated you most of your life, yet she suddenly gets over it now that you’re famous? That sounds a bit opportunistic to me.”

“You’re cynical, Ange.”

“No, I’m realistic. Three weeks ago she was an aging beauty queen-slash-socialite with a small gallery in New
Orleans. This week she’s on the cover of
People
. You know exactly the type of woman I’m talking about.”

“I do. But you don’t know Vivi. That’s not her style at all.”

“Really? And you know this
how?
Connor, her face is everywhere right now. She’s had to hire a manager, companies are pitching reality TV shows to her, and she’s suddenly a commodity on the speaker circuit…She went from nobody to somebody in record time, and all she had to do was sleep with you.”

An unusual feeling, someplace between dread and anger, settled on his chest. Who or what it was directed at was a mystery. “There’s a causal relationship, sure. But that doesn’t imply forethought.”

“But it should give
you
second thoughts, at least. Especially now that you’re toying with ideas that could put your career back
years
.”

It shouldn’t give him second thoughts, but Angie’s earnestness forced him to consider it. He pushed it away as quickly as he could. “You’re making all kinds of connections where there aren’t any, and assigning motives where none exist. That smacks of paranoia.”

“You’re not my first or only client. After some of the crap I’ve seen, I sound like Pollyanna right now. I only want what’s best for you, Connor.”

Others might think Angie was mothering him with her concern, but Connor knew Angie didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She didn’t even like live houseplants. They weren’t friends. This was business.

“Or do you want what makes you the most money?”

“Honey, that’s one and the same. Your success is my paycheck, but it’s still your success and your paycheck. Let’s not make any rash decisions you’ll regret.”

Right now his only regret was allowing his agent to attend a social event. Angie had soured his good mood. Her
assertions were far-fetched at best, but he was too much of a cynic—or maybe he had had a little too much of spotlight-seeking women recently—to dismiss them completely out of hand.

But this was
Vivi
Angie was talking about…

The crowd on the street roared to life, and Vivi appeared a second later to put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the parade. You two coming?”

Connor had learned early on that no one in this business really cared about him—beyond what he could do for them, at least. Angie was just protecting her turf and the biggest cash cow in the herd. She had no life outside business and didn’t understand anyone who did.

He stood and let Vivi catch his hand.
No
. This thing with Vivi was the realest thing that had happened to him in a long time.

Glancing over at Angie, he smiled. “I don’t believe in regrets.”

R
AIN
came in Monday night, making Vivi worry, but Tuesday morning dawned clear. Vivi watched the morning weather report, cup of coffee in hand, and smiled when the meteorologist promised a sunny and mild afternoon. She’d both sweated and shivered through Mardi Gras in the past, but today might not be a bad day to spend in satin and angel wings.

“You’re up early,” Connor mumbled as he passed her on his way to the kitchen for coffee, pausing only to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

“It’s a big day.”

It certainly felt momentous already. Although it had been hard at times, Vivi had never spent the whole night with Connor, choosing instead to make her way home in the wee hours of the night. There’d been a couple of mornings where she’d barely made it home before dawn—which might be splitting hairs—but yesterday afternoon she’d purposefully packed a bag with the intent of staying all night. Waking up to sunshine peeking around the curtains and Connor snuggled firmly behind her had certainly felt momentous.

Connor came back with a steaming mug and read the weather ticker off the bottom of the screen. He looked sleep-rumpled and freshly rolled-out-of-bed-sexy, whereas she’d taken a couple of minutes to wash her face and brush her
hair. He looked delicious, no matter what, but she didn’t have quite the same confidence.

“You okay?” he asked.

She didn’t have to ask about what. Connor’s call had come from Max about nine o’clock last night, congratulating him on his win. Although she’d been next to Connor on the couch, and heard Connor’s side of the entire conversation, she’d waited for Max to call her a few minutes later to break the news to her. They’d been a little preoccupied with other activities, though, and hadn’t had much of a chance to discuss it.

“Of course. I’m disappointed, but I reconciled myself to this weeks ago. All things considered, I think I put in a good showing, and we raised a ton of money.”

“That’s Pageant Vivi talking.”

“I’ve had practice at being a gracious loser.”

“You can still ride up top with me, you know.”

“I will not flout tradition like that.
You
will be on top, where you belong.”

“But I like it when you’re on top.”

That statement had Vivi trying to calculate how much time they had this morning before they had to leave for the parade. Traffic would be terrible, but…

They were half an hour late. But everyone and everything seemed to be running late as well, so they spent another twenty minutes hanging around. Well,
she
hung around; Connor signed autographs and smiled for cameras with fans from their host krewe and riders on the floats. She rather wished she’d brought a book.

“Congratulations, Vivi.”

Angie stood behind her, slightly overdressed for the event, with big black sunglasses covering her eyes. Vivi knew that Angie was very good at her job, but Vivi didn’t like her all that much. There was something about her that was just off-putting.

She was just too brusque and focused on the bottom line for Vivi’s taste.

“I will say thanks, because it’s over and we did a great job, but they haven’t officially announced anything. All congratulations are technically premature.”

“I’d say you did pretty well, regardless.”

“Thank you. I was afraid Connor would simply stomp me, but I think I held my own.”

“I didn’t mean in the competition—but kudos to you, of course, for that.”

She couldn’t see Angie’s eyes for the sunglasses, but the slightly mocking smile put her on alert. “Then I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“It doesn’t really matter if you win or lose this competition. I’d think you’d be proud of yourself either way.”

What was Angie getting at? “I am. Like I said, Saints and Sinners has been a great success.”

“You’re certainly reaping the benefits.”

Okay, there was definitely a snort in there
. Vivi lost patience. “Angie, if there’s something you want to say, please just say it. I’m really not in the mood for games.”

“You’ve managed to ride this little event straight into the spotlight…on Connor,” she finished crudely.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you’re quite clever, and I repeat my kudos. You certainly know how to take advantage of a situation. Nice write-up in the
Times
, by the way.”

The insult and implication were obvious. Vivi felt her jaw gape in shock. “I won’t deny that my relationship with Connor has opened up all kinds of new doors for me, but I’m not seeing Connor for that reason.”

“Oh, honey, I’m not judging you—”

It sure sounds like it
.

“I know all about how this game is played.”

“This isn’t a game. If you’re worried about Connor—”

“I never worry about Connor. He’s a pro. He knows how it works. This business creates strange bedfellows, but it’s all still business in the end. A little
quid pro quo
is just part of it.”

“Well, if there was supposed to be some
quid pro quo
Connor got the short end of that stick.” Vivi tried to laugh it off, because outrage and insult were growing. Soon she’d be saying something she’d really regret.

“I don’t worry about Connor. Saints and Sinners gave him a chance to do something to counterbalance the whole Katy Arras thing. I tried to tell him it would die down and pass in its own time, but he’s not the patient type. He likes to be proactive, you know. Change the PR conversation himself.”

Vivi felt a small rock settle in her stomach. So much for pure altruism. But what had she expected, really? Connor had had an opportunity to change the narrative surrounding him and he had. And he’d done a great job as the Sinner—raised the profile of the event…The fact that he’d benefitted personally and professionally didn’t negate the entire experience.

Even if it did cheapen it a bit.

Vivi pulled herself back. It was a multilayered situation. It couldn’t be pulled apart and overanalyzed. Even if she was tempted to do just that.

Angie shrugged and surveyed the crowds of people milling around. Vivi knew the body language and braced herself.

“Connor’s a very smart guy. Hooking up with you was a brilliant idea.”

That
definitely
wasn’t a compliment. Vivi gathered up as much dignity as she could while wearing five-foot wings. “I like to think that Connor has very good taste.”
Damn. That came out stiffer than she’d hoped
.

Angie looked her up and down. “Oh, certainly. He needed
to find himself a good girl to vindicate him. It would have been better if he’d been able to go the whole redemption route—much more press that way, and people just eat it up—but your approval was almost as good as papal forgiveness. And brilliantly played by both of you. It was like a fairy tale or something. By the time he gets back home—L.A. home, that is—everyone will be claiming they never believed that woman to begin with.”

“Connor has plans here, too.”

Angie’s eyebrows arched over her sunglasses again, and Vivi felt the look of amused pity even if she couldn’t fully see it.

“Connor’s full of ideas. Half of them never work out. That’s why he needs me. He always claims he’s moving home after a tour, but once he’s caught up on his sleep he forgets all about it.” Angie shook her head. “I know Connor. I’ve known him since he was opening for second-string acts at crappy clubs. Whatever those plans are, I promise you that he will lose all interest very soon. He’ll need to be back in the studio and back on the road.”

The rock in Vivi’s stomach grew and made her nauseous. She recognized the cattiness for what it was, but that didn’t help allay the sick feeling. If this had come from anyone other than Angie, Vivi would easily have dismissed it as jealousy. But this had been delivered with unemotional, professional distance. Angie had no personal reason to unsheath her claws.

It was ridiculous, but that very ridiculousness gave it weight. And that weight settled into Vivi’s stomach. Angie’s phone rang. She answered it without so much as an
excuse me
, but Vivi was happy for the reprieve.

But she couldn’t shake the sick feeling. It niggled at her, playing on insecurities she hadn’t known she still had. By
the time Max got everyone’s attention for the official announcement, she felt green around the gills.

Vivi made her way to the float, where Connor met her at the makeshift stairs. It was similar to their pageantry on the night of the ball. They climbed slowly to the top and took their places behind the velvet pillow holding the Saint’s halo and the Sinner’s horns.

Max started his speech—a rundown of how much they’d accomplished with their various community projects and the amount of money raised. Even through her unease, Vivi felt a moment of pride at the amount. A huge cheer went through the crowd and Vivi tried to enjoy it.

“Team Sinner!”

There was another roar of approval, and Vivi shot an apologetic look at her team of Cherubim. Connor noticed and leaned down.

“Don’t worry about them. Both courts get excellent seats at my next concert, but the losing team gets backstage passes as well.”

The forethought and kindness of the gesture lightened the rock. Connor wasn’t in this for just selfish reasons.

Max signaled her, and Vivi picked up her halo and presented it to Connor, who hoisted it above the float like a pirate flag. He then placed his horns back on his head. Vivi curtseyed, and Connor climbed to the top tier of the float, his Imps right behind him, and took his place on the enormous throne with the Saints and Sinners crest above him. She and her Cherubim would man the lower tier.

The float began to inch forward. She looked up at Connor’s throne and found him staring at her. Once he’d caught her eye, he gave her a wink and a small wave. Then, a huge grin on his face, he leaned back, propped his feet on the railing, and stacked his hands behind his head. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying the moment.

Whatever Angie’s problem was, Vivi wasn’t going to convict Connor of anything on hearsay alone. And if Angie was wrong on one front, she was probably wrong on the other, too.

The drumline of the marching band began their beat, and they were officially under way. The sun came out from behind a cloud, and the excitement of the kids around her was palpable.

Today was a day to celebrate—even if she was celebrating a loss. And for now she had beads to throw.

Connor dropped his and Vivi’s wings by the door with a mental sigh of relief. Cool-looking or not, twelve hours in them was more than enough for any man. The chafing…

As if she’d read his mind, Vivi chuckled as she kicked off her shoes and dug a pair of sweatpants out of her overnight bag. “I told you to wear something underneath the harness. I learned my lesson after the last time.”

Connor carried the three-foot Saints and Sinners trophy they’d presented to him at the end of the parade to the coffee table and set it down. “Think it’s big enough?”

“No need to brag about it,” Vivi grumbled.

He shook his head at her. “You are a poor loser.”

“I am not. I just like trophies.”

He shot her a disbelieving look.

“It’s true. I do like trophies. Because you get them when you win.”

“And you like to win,” he added.

“I am a serious competitor,” she corrected.

“And a poor loser.”

Vivi shook her head at him. “Whatever. I will not lie and say I didn’t want that trophy. Unhook me, please?”

She turned her back to him as she asked and looked out the French doors at the street below. The crowds in the
French Quarter had reached their peak tonight, and even through the thick window glass he could hear the noise of the party a block over on Bourbon. Even Royal Street—with its lack of bars—was busy. If he could muster the energy, he
might
go out on the balcony and toss some beads to folks in the street, but right now even that seemed beyond his capability. In two hours, at midnight, the police would begin to clear the streets and Mardi Gras would be over.

The hooks of Vivi’s dress opened under his fingers, but unlike the last time he’d done this, he found the soft cotton of an undershirt instead of soft skin. She was probably still sore from the harness, and it would have solved the chafing problem nicely. “You’re lucky your dress covers you enough to wear something under the harness. How could I possibly wear a shirt under this getup?”

Vivi pulled her arms out of the dress and let it drop to the floor. Clad in only the undershirt and a tiny pair of lacy panties, she stretched and groaned in relief. It was a lovely, erotic view he was almost too tired to fully appreciate, but he was still disappointed when Vivi’s legs disappeared into the purple sweats. Then she dropped to the couch and let her head rest against the arm.

“I’ll call Ms. Rene in the morning and offer some advice for the next time she wants to put someone in wings. But not right now. I’m just too exhausted to move anymore. I just want a glass of wine, a seat that doesn’t move under me and a little quiet.”

Connor peeled the leather vest off and started unwinding the leather straps from around his arms. “Amen to that. I was almost afraid you’d want to head out for the last couple of hours.”

“No way. It was a fun day but, mercy, it’s been a long one.” She sighed. “I don’t want to see or talk to another human being for several days.”

“Including me?”

“You may stay—but only if you bring the wine over here,” she conceded. “I’m not moving from this spot until tomorrow. Call me a party pooper if you wish, but stick a fork in me ‘cause I’m done.”

He grabbed the wine and two glasses and set them on the table next to Vivi. The leather pants were off next, and he felt much better immediately. Tossing them into the pile with Vivi’s dress, he went to the bedroom and grabbed a pair of jeans.

As he returned, Vivi shot him a sly look. “However, please don’t let me stop you from enjoying yourself out there.”

“I may not leave this apartment for at least a week.” He joined her on the couch, lifting her feet out of the way to sit before placing them in his lap. “But if anyone asks, it was your idea to stay in for the rest of the night. Connor Mansfield should be out there partying hard, not safe on his couch and contemplating sleep at ten o’clock.”