The One That Got Away (17 page)

Would he have agreed to do this if he'd known up front that
Vivi would be a part of it? Or would he have just sent another check and let it
go?

No, he'd been thinking about home for a while now; this was
just the nudge he'd needed to get him here. It gave him an excuse to do some
damage control, make some new headlines that didn't involve paternity suits or
sexual activities. He could take a step back and maybe take a deep breath for
the first time in years.

He hadn't realized how truly tired he was. Getting everything
he'd ever wanted in life was great in theory, but he hadn't known he'd be left
feeling like a well-dressed hobo. He had accepted that at first: he couldn't
have gotten this far if he'd been tied down to any one place or thing. There was
a great freedom to it. But it came at a cost, nonetheless.

Being home—really home, not just the place he slept between
shows—made him feel like the earth was solid under his feet again. The ideas
that had been swimming unformed in the back of his mind seemed to be taking
shape now that he was here. New Orleans was good for his mind and soul, and he
could use the next few weeks to really refocus and figure out what was next. Or
what he wanted to be next.

He heard Vivi's deep sigh of irritation and it brought him back
to the present. Right now he had a contest to win. It felt good to come home;
even better to come home to a warm welcome
and
the
opportunity to do something good for his hometown.

Annoying Vivi while he did it was just a bonus.

* * *

Vivi
chewed each bite a dozen times and then immediately put another bite in
her mouth to keep it full. She couldn't control her thoughts, but this was one
way to guarantee she would not take Connor's bait and end up saying something
she'd regret later.

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 other-worldly 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 colead 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.

ISBN: 9781460303740

Copyright © 2013 by Kelly Hunter

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