The Scandal and Carter O'Neill (9 page)

“You don’t have to be so tough.”

“Yes,” she said, patting his cheek. “I do.”

The front door opened and much to her shock, Carter walked in.

Carter, with his tie tugged loose and his shirtsleeves rolled up, revealing the tanned strength of his forearms.

Just like at Mama’s, just like every time she saw him, her body rebelled against her. Her skin went hot, her heart cold. Her hands curled into fists and the knot—the knot deep in her belly that had been turning tighter and tighter in the nights and lonely days—loosened in a great rush that made her dizzy with sudden want.

Phillip stepped toward Carter, his face intent, and Zoe knew her friend was about to give Carter a piece of his mind, so she put up her hand. She could fight her own battles.

“It’s not his fault,” she said.

“You gotta end this thing with him,” Phillip said. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“I agree,” she said. She’d decided this morning that whatever debt she owed Carter was repaid. Her life didn’t need this drama. Though her head was making the decisions, her heart was getting kicked around, and it was time to get out of the line of fire. “Now, go drag those kids away from the snacks and teach them some dance.”

“Okay,” he said giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Shout if you need me.”

She caught Carter’s eye and his long legs ate the distance between them. Something was different about him today. An inner fire had been lit.

And it was exciting.

She tamped down her reaction to that excitement, ignored the leap in her blood.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when he was within talking distance.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.

“You should check the papers,” she said, making a stab at a joke.

“Zoe,” he sighed, and his voice carried a heavy apology.

She shook her head. “Forget it,” she said. “I’m fine. It’s just a picture.”

“Zoe, I—” Suddenly the look on his face was raw and she saw that he wasn’t just here for her. Out of pity. There was a storm in his eyes, pain on his face. “God, Zoe, I’m so sorry about how this has turned out.”

“Blackwell is really after you,” she said, though she didn’t tell Carter about Blackwell’s visit to her loft on Sunday night.

“I know. I’m going to take care of it,” he promised her.

“Can we…can we just be done?” she asked, her stomach hurting. It was hard to look in his eyes. This wasn’t a breakup; there was nothing to break up. It was the end of an agreement.

It shouldn’t feel so bad.

“I mean, I know I made things hard for you when I stood up on that chair, and if you need me, I can still go on dates…or whatever. But if there’s a chance you don’t need me, and your political career is no longer in trouble, can we…stop?”

Silently, he stepped closer, and she felt him, his presence like a touch on her skin even though inches still separated them.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, and the heat from his body made her melt.

What I want? she thought. Oddly enough, what she wanted was to curl up against that man and sleep for about ten days. And then she wanted to have sex with him for another ten.

But life without Carter would be simpler.

And right now, she needed simple.

“That’s what I want,” she said. The second the words were out, she wanted to gobble them back up.

He nodded once, his blue eyes piercing her, holding her still for his scrutiny, and it was unbearable. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, whether he had any reaction at all to her ending the arrangement.

There was some commotion at the snack table, and both Zoe and Carter turned to watch Phillip try to wrestle the bag of chips away from the giant while Grandma’s little prisoner was texting on her phone and enthusiastic girl was channeling Beyoncé.

His chuckle ran over her skin, giving her goose bumps. “What exactly are you doing here?” he asked.

She felt the blush climb up her neck across her face. Following your lead, she thought, putting your words to action.

“It’s…ah…a free dance class for kids in East Brookstown.”

East Brookstown being one of the roughest neighborhoods in Baton Rouge.

She felt Carter’s eyes on her and she tried not to turn and face him, but in the end she couldn’t help it. It was as if he tipped the room, the whole world, and everything in her wanted to run downhill to be close to him.

His gaze was warm, assessing, and it made her open her mouth and just babble.

“As you can see we’re just starting. I didn’t have a chance to truly spread the word and the parks and rec department said that next session they’d be able to put some push behind it, but for now it’s just flyers and word of mouth. But—”

“It’s amazing,” he said, which was a stretch. Across the room, Phillip had barely managed to arrange the three kids in a line in front of the mirror. “The Zoe Madison Dance Academy.”

It was ridiculous. She knew that but, somehow, at this moment, Carter seemed so lonely. Or alone. Watching this clumsy dance program inspired by him, but seeming removed from it. From everything. But eager for it. Hungry for it.

It was as if he were locked deep under his skin, trying hard to reach out.

“You inspired me,” she blurted. “That night at Bola. What you said about plugging kids into things that interested them.”

“I’m glad. A dance class is an excellent idea,” he murmured, then he shook his head, as if forcing himself to be honest. “I’m moved, actually. It’s not often I get to see the immediate result of something I care about. I swear, most days I sit on the phone trying to change the city and the real work, the real change, is happening right here.”

She stared at him, trying to think of rocks and dams, fortresses and castles, things that stood firm. Unmoved.

“I guess, maybe I’m jealous,” he said, and she felt all the firm ground beneath her resolve turn to quicksand.

“Well,” she joked, “if you know how to break dance…”

He laughed, breaking the unbearable tension between them, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “If it was skateboarding, I might be able to help you.”

“What?” she cried.

“I was a skateboarder—”

“Shut up.”

“It’s that hard to believe?”

“Yes!” she cried. “It is!”

“Well.” He looked chagrined and totally adorable. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and smooth back his mussed hair. “I wasn’t very good, really. My brother, though—” his smile was distant and fond, and she held her breath, waiting for him to reveal something else, some small glimpse into his life “—he had the talent.”

“What’s his name?” she asked, and wanted to hit herself. Don’t care! You’re not supposed to care!

“Tyler. Ty. He was one of those guys who was good at everything he did.”

“And you’re so different?”

He stared at her for a long time and she realized, her heart breaking, that he truly didn’t see himself the way she did. The way the world did.

“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “What you’re doing here is great. If you need help with anything. Funding or…” He paused, and his eyes began to glow with a bright speculative light that made her nervous but giddy at the same time, as if he was looking at her as a teammate. A friend. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

“Nothing that would get my picture in the paper,” she said.

“I don’t blame you,” he said. “But I got the funding for the Glenview Community Center—”

“Congratulations!” she cheered. “That’s great, Carter. You must feel so good.”

He opened and shut his mouth like a beached fish, as if unsure how to respond, and then he laughed a little. Poor guy, she thought, you’re so uncomfortable with praise.

“It does,” he said. “It feels really good. But the money comes from a local company—Lafayette Corp.”

“I’ve seen their signs,” she said, trying to remember where.

“Construction,” he said. “They’ve been a big part of cleaning up and rebuilding the state in the past few years.”

“Right business at the right time,” she said, unable to hide the darkness from her voice. It felt like the whole state was falling prey to modern-day carpetbaggers.

“It’s not like that, honestly. I’ve checked these guys out. They’re working as green as possible, they’ve funded half the Habitat for Humanity programs in the parish. Believe it or not, they’re the good guys. They’re throwing this fundraiser on Saturday—”

“What does that have to do with me?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Zoe—they’re giving away money to community-based organizations. What do you think it has to do with you?”

Her academy. Explosions went off in her head. Her dream for the academy could actually get off the ground. Now. Not ten years from now, not in that hazy future she always talked about, but right now. As soon as Saturday.

“You don’t have to go as my date,” he said, his voice cool, his face distant. “I’ll get you on the guest list. You can just show up. Ignore me if you want. It’s at the Hilton at 8 p.m. It’s a Casino night, so sort of formal. I hear there’s going to be a chocolate cake made in the shape of a house—”

“You had me at chocolate.”

“You’ll come?” he asked, his eyes sparkling, that cool facade cracking.

He baffled her, tied her in knots. The way he ran hot and cold might have been exciting to her once upon a time, but now it just made her feel foolish and weary.

But she’d be a fool not to go to the fundraiser. These kinds of chances didn’t come around every day, and if she was serious about her future and the future of her academy, these were the chances she needed.

“I’ll be there,” she said.

“Great!” he said, and he squeezed her hand before leaving.

She watched his wide, strong back detour around Barricade Grandma, and she shook out her hand, trying to clear the goose bumps his touch had left behind.

For all her conviction that going to the fundraiser was the right thing, it felt scary. Out of her depth.

And it wasn’t just that she had nothing to wear, or that she was asking for money for a fledgling idea. It was because Carter, without the cool distance of the business agreement between them, was dangerous.

SATURDAY NIGHT, CARTER was running late and the party was already in full swing. Walking in through the front doors, he was hit by a wall of sound and heat, a hot wave of perfume mixed with champagne. The two blackjack tables, a poker table and the roulette were moving at full speed with people lined up around them three deep.

A success, he thought, pride and excitement surging through him.

The Glenview albatross was off from around his neck.

He tugged at the white sleeve of his shirt, pulling it past the black edge of his tux. The cuff links, simple silver disks his grandmother had given him on his graduation from law school, were slick under his fingers.

They were usually a pleasant reminder of his childhood, of poker games in Margot’s bedroom, arguing with his brother and making his sister giggle, eating cold slices of sugar pie and learning how to count cards and stack the deck.

But here, on the precipice of a chance for a new life, they reminded him of everything he was and tried to forget.

He caged the nostalgia and regret, locked it up and shoved it a million miles beneath his tux, beneath his desires for this city, beneath his craving to see Zoe here tonight.

It had been hard to accept her terminating their arrangement, a shock after deciding he was going to fight for her. But he couldn’t ignore her wishes, and one look in her eyes told him that the photographer and Jim Blackwell were simply too much to ask her to take on.

But she was coming tonight and once he dealt with Blackwell, maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to try again with him. For real this time.

Carter caught sight of Amanda, elegant in a black gown, working Eric Lafayette, and he imagined Eric was working her right back. There had been more than a little sizzle when they’d met yesterday.

“Hello, Carter.”

Carter turned to find Jim Blackwell waiting at the door like a black cloud.

“You couldn’t rent a tux?” Carter asked, taking in the reporter’s cheap suit jacket and blue jeans with distaste.

“No one here I need to impress,” he said, those deceiving chubby cheeks stretching wide into a grin. He wondered if Jim had anyone fooled by that Jimmy Olsen mask, because all Carter saw were the beady eyes of a snake. “Thank you for the invite to this little soiree.”

“No problem.”

Jim looked around as if the glitter and flash of the grand ballroom was a back alley. “Hell of a way to make money for a community center. Gambling? Cash bars?”

“What the hell is your problem, Blackwell?”

Jim arched his eyebrows. “You,” he said. “I thought I made that clear.”

“You have questions?” Carter asked, stepping close to the man so his words didn’t have to carry any further than the two of them. “Ask them. Here. Now. Stop badgering Zoe Madison.”

“What are you hiding?” Jim asked. “You aren’t fooling me, you know. I accuse your family of stealing gems seconds before this pregnant girl stands on a chair as a joke, and you run with the pregnant girl? It’s smoke and mirrors, Carter, and I’m not buying it. I think you know where the ruby is.”

“I have no idea where it is,” Carter said with conviction, for the first time since the questions started to roll around. If nothing else, he could thank his mother for that.

The truth, he thought, was a revelation, so thin and slick on his tongue, unlike the years of fat, heavy lies. “And furthermore, I don’t give a shit. That garbage has nothing to do with me and what I want to do for this city.”

“Did your parents steal the gems in the first place?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he said. “I wasn’t lying when I said I have no contact with them. Now call the hounds off Zoe. She has nothing to do with my family.”

“But she has a lot to do with you, Carter, and that’s what I’m really interested in.”

“You are walking right into a harassment suit.”

Jim lifted his hand and laughed, the sound as empty and flat as a dead basketball. He stepped away, knowing he was crossing a few too many lines with a lawyer. “I’ll be around, Carter. I have a few more questions about this Lafayette deal.”

“Lafayette is good for the city, Blackwell. What’s wrong with that?”

“We’ll see,” Jim said, backing away, slapping his little notebook against his leg. “We’ll see.”

Jim walked away and Carter contemplated the advantages of the Wild West, and of being able to call an ass like Blackwell out just for being as ass.

A few people on the outskirts of the closest blackjack table glanced back at him. Or past him, actually, smiling and poking each other in the ribs. The men, particularly, seemed interested.

Carter turned and backed up, away from the gorgeous woman standing behind him on the stairs.

She wore red, scarlet really, that clung and dipped over her belly and puddled at her feet. Her arms were bare, her long elegant neck revealed. She wore diamonds at her ears and in her short black hair.

Zoe.

It was Zoe.

SHE DIDN’T EXPECT CARTER to be at the door. She’d hoped she would have a chance to circulate, get her feet under her before running into him. And then she could be casual and composed, instead of feeling like a freshman crashing the senior prom.

But no such luck. Carter was right there, stunning and big, those handsome shoulders tucked into a perfect tux.

He looked even better than she’d imagined, because he was here, in the flesh. She could reach out and touch him, feel the heat of his skin.

“Hi,” she said, lifting her chin.

Head up, shoulders back, the echo of every teacher she’d ever had rang through her brain. Feel the ceiling with the top of your head. Fill the room with your power.

It had been awhile, but she felt the old training kick back in. Being five foot three but dancing like she was seven feet tall took a special kind of person.

She’d forgotten for a while, but she was that kind of person.

She was also apparently the kind of person who showed up at fancy fundraisers in one of Ben’s drag queen dresses.

“Zoe,” he breathed, clearly speechless. His eyes roved over her, warm and appreciative, leaving a giddy, sparkling heat behind.

The amazed look on his face was the best compliment she’d ever heard.

“Christ, Zoe, you’re—”

A gay man’s version of Marilyn Monroe, she thought.

“I’m here for me,” she said instead, clumsy and loud. “For my academy.”

His smile was so beautiful it nearly melted her shoulders, the steel in her spine. It wasn’t just that he seemed proud, because frankly, she didn’t need anyone for that. She was proud of herself. It was something far more personal. That he approved—this man, who was so hard on himself and so single-minded—mattered to her. Was important to her.

“Of course,” he said with a short, sharp nod. “Would you like me to introduce you?”

“I would,” she said, as regally as she could.

“Perhaps a quick stop by the buffet?”

She couldn’t help it; she smiled, tucking her hand into his offered elbow and trying to ignore the hundred little lightning strikes between her skin and his.

“Thank you,” she said as they stepped into the room, embraced by the din of a hundred people having a good time.

But she was only truly aware of him, the smooth fabric of his tux, the heat of the muscle beneath it.

“Do you…ah…play cards?” she asked as they circumvented the large puddles of people surrounding the tables.

“No,” he said, all that warmth and charm suddenly gone, as if she’d imagined it all.

He took another step, but realized she wasn’t moving and turned back.

“Where do you go when you do that?” she asked, ignoring the instincts that screamed at her not to care.

“Do what?” he asked, waving away a waiter with a tray of champagne.

“Get so cold like that? It’s like you’re here and then you’re not.”

He looked down at her from a great distance, despite the outrageously high—and outrageously big—heels she was wearing.

“It’s an old habit,” he said, his honesty surprising her. “I don’t do it intentionally. I apologize.”

When he looked her right in the eyes that way, revealing these strange pieces of himself, it made her nervous, as if she were naked. Or in danger.

“Apology accepted,” she said, not knowing what else to say and wanting to get them back to stable, easy ground. “I, however am a great card player.”

“Really?” he asked, clearly skeptical.

“Do you have to say it that way?”

“Zoe Madison, you wear every brain wave on your face, to say nothing of your emotions. You are what is called an easy mark.”

“That’s not true!” she gasped, and he turned to her, his eyes so hot they burned. She stepped back, surprised, but his hand at her elbow stopped her.

He half turned and she found herself in a little alcove between a curtain and a giant potted orchid. It was quiet and warm and again, the whole world shrank, everyone disappeared, leaving them alone in a giant ballroom.

“You want to be here for you,” he whispered, his warm breath smelling like champagne and mint and making all the fine hair on her body rise up as if trying to pull her closer to him. “You want to believe that what you feel for me is nothing, or will go away. But underneath all your efforts to keep yourself collected and in control, what you feel for me scares you.”

He was right, more than right. He’d looked straight through her and read her like a newspaper.

“I…” she stammered, her hand at her neck. Her blood pounded in her cheeks and she wished she could deny it, wished she could say anything, but she was stupid with her own horror.

“That’s what I see on your face, Zoe.” He leaned away from her, utterly composed. Utterly closed off, as if saying these things, seeing this warring desire inside of her were no big deal. Not to him. The unreachable Carter O’Neill.

She yanked her arm free of his fingers, ignoring the way her skin tingled.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is that you see me so clearly and I don’t know a single thing about you? I can’t tell if this is a game to you, or are laughing at me. I can’t—”

“Look at me,” he whispered.

“No!” she cried, slamming her eyes shut like a child.

“Zoe,” he breathed. “Just look at me. Please.”

She sighed and opened her eyes.

Magically, he’d changed. It was as if his skin had fallen off and she saw the beating heart in his chest.

He wanted her. In the same punched-in-the-stomach way she wanted him. And he was as surprised and baffled as she was by their attraction.

“We’re in this together, Zoe. Whatever—” his finger touched her chest and then his, drawing a line in the air, connecting them “—this is. Despite the way it started, despite the photographers…I’m with you.”

It was by far the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. And at this point in her life, the most unrealistic.

With me? She thought. Was that a joke? He was Carter O’Neill; he could have any nonpregnant woman in this city.

It hurt, all of it hurt. Being near this man hurt.

“Zoe?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

“Why?” she asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “I can’t be your usual…date. I’m five months pregnant.”

“I know,” he said. His eyes, in the shadows, were serious and warm. Hot, actually. “Trust me,” he said, laughing a little, “I know. And you’re beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

He lifted his hands as if asking permission to touch her, and she didn’t stop him. She should have, but her skin was dying for his touch, a desert without rain. His hands slid over her belly, pushing the dress over her skin, so warm and firm. “This part of you is amazing to me. You’re amazing. And you’re right. You’re not at all like the women I usually date. But I’m so glad about that, because those women didn’t have a tenth of your warmth. Or humor. Right now, I couldn’t be happier, Zoe.”

The baby kicked him, right in the palm, as if summoned. As if saying “nice to meet you.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “I can totally feel the baby.”

She gasped at the pleasure of it all, his hands, her baby. It was gorgeous. The most pleasure-saturated moments of her life.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, put her fingers in his hair and just lay one on him, right here, in front of a hundred people, as if she didn’t have any control.

But she did. A little. Enough to step back and let cool air swirl between them, sweeping out the heat and smoke.

“I want to play cards,” she said, her voice too loud, her whole body vibrating at the edges.

“Of course,” he said indulgently.

Normally, that would make her nuts—a pampering man sounding as if he were doing a favor. But the way he said “of course,” as if the only desire he had in the world was to watch her play blackjack, made her feel tingly and warm.

A woman. With a man.

They emerged from the alcove and no one stared at them, though she was sure her blush was practically neon.