The Taming of a Wild Child (11 page)

To his relief, his phone rang forty-five minutes later.

“How on earth did you manage to get flowers delivered at this time of night?”

At least she wasn’t mad enough to ignore the delivery. “I know people.”

“I know people, too, you know.”

“Yes, but
I
know the kind of people who own flower shops and owe me favors.”

He heard her snort. “Seems like a waste of a perfectly good favor.”

“Not really. I’m pretty sure flowers are the standard opening salvo for making amends.”

“Well, they’re lovely. But you’re still in trouble.”

He reminded himself that Lorelei wasn’t one to hold a grudge. He just needed to get her past
this
. The fact she was talking to him, even giving him flak over the flowers, was actually a pretty good sign.

“So I’ll apologize again. You were right. I was being very rude. I assure you I was raised better than that.” When Lorelei stayed silent on her end, he added, “I’m not used to being accountable for my whereabouts to anyone else. At least not since I moved out of my parents’ house.”

“Well, that’s quite a proper apology.”

He could hear her giving in. “Nothing’s more irritating than a non-apology apology, and I’ve ripped enough of those apart to make me a hypocrite if I tried it.”

“You’re assuming I’d fall for a lame non-apology apology?”

“Not at all. I respect you too much for that.”

“Really?” She sounded skeptical.

“Of course. We couldn’t be friends otherwise.”

There was a pause. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but it had a nice ring to it. “I’d like to think so.”

“I’m good with that, actually. Your apology is accepted.”

He couldn’t quite name the feeling that settled in his chest. There was relief, but there was something else, too. “So, are you ready for dinner now?”

“Yeah.”

He was already reaching for his shoes. “I’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Before he could question that his doorbell rang. “Hang on for a second.”

Opening the door, he found Lorelei on his stoop.

She smiled and put her phone back in her purse. “Hey.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “So all of that was just to string me along?”

“No. I was willing to accept your apology even before the flowers arrived. I figured I’d save some time.”

“So we’re good now?”

“Yeah, I think we are.”

He stepped back to let her in, and she smiled as she passed. She dropped her bag as he closed the door. “Are you really hungry? Like starving?”

“I can probably hang on for a little while longer.”

“Good.” Lorelei put her hands on his waist and rose up to her tiptoes until her mouth was just inches from his. “I think we need to kiss and make up first.”

“What is up with the male fascination with gadgetry?” Lorelei scowled at his remote control. “This thing has more buttons than the cockpit of the space shuttle.”

Donovan was replying to an email from his editor as Lorelei cursed at the remote. He looked up long enough to see her make a face at it and said, “The five buttons at the top are pretty much all you need.”

“Then why does it have five-hundred buttons?”

He hit Send and laid the phone on the table. “I said those five at the top were the only ones
you’d
need.
I
know what the other four hundred and ninety-five do.”

“Never mind. I’ve now forgotten what I wanted to watch.” She tossed the remote to the other end of the couch. Remnants of Thai delivery food covered the coffee table, and Lorelei was nursing a glass of wine.

All in all it was a very casual, very comfortable, very laid-back evening—not something he was normally accustomed to. That should make the situation
un
comfortable, but for some reason it didn’t. Over the last couple of days they’d settled into … well, not a routine, but a zone. An easy, comfortable zone. They spent their days doing their own thing, and their evenings doing something else. But it wasn’t just All Sex, All The Time; they’d spent most of tonight on separate laptops, him working on an op-ed piece and her sending emails or something.

“I thought you had a big meeting to prepare for?”

“I do. But it’s not like I have to cram for it.”

“Why?”

“I’m starting to get the hang of this—finally. Fifty percent of it is just showing up, smiling and listening. That doesn’t require much prep on my part. I’m very good at showing up and smiling.”

He patted her leg. “It’s good that you’ve found your true talent.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “You know, I’ve found that no one really likes it when someone just shows up and just starts bloviating endlessly, subjecting everyone to their opinion whether they want to hear it or not.”

“I’m paid to bloviate, thank you very much.”

She snorted. “Doesn’t mean it will win you friends and help you influence people.”

“I’ve got all the friends I need,” he countered.

“God, you’re cocky.”

He just shrugged as Lorelei settled herself into the corner of the couch with her glass of wine and draped her legs over his. She had on jeans and another tank top, and her bare feet rested on his thigh. Her toenails were painted an electric shade of blue.

“Blue?” he asked.

She wiggled her toes in response. “I like it.”

“It’s just a little unexpected.”

She shot him a grin. “I’m a rebel, don’t you know?”

“With those toes? Of course you are. Everyone better watch out.”

“Hey, I quietly rebel in my own way.” The grin turned conspiratorial. “It’s easier to look like I’m playing by the rules when I know that secretly I’m really not. It keeps me sane.”

The differences between the new-and-improved public Lorelei LaBlanc and the private woman on his couch were getting starker each day. “I knew you hadn’t turned over a completely new leaf.”

“I’m just picking my battles more carefully these days.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Everyone has to grow up sometime.”

“I’m not seeing the connection.”

She thought for a moment and sighed. “Have you never gotten tired of fighting something and decided it was easier to give in?”

It seemed he’d spent years not giving in. Not personally, not professionally. He wouldn’t be here now if he had. Fighting the odds and succeeding was his heritage; his family tree consisted of sharecroppers and madams in Storyville, and now they were one of the wealthiest families in New Orleans. Backing down wasn’t an option. “Not if the battle is worth it.”

“And that’s why I’m choosier with my battles these days. Some things will never change, so if I can’t beat them I might as well join them.”

“Such a cynical attitude from one so young.”

Lorelei lifted her chin. “It’s working, though. After my speech at that Women’s Leadership luncheon, one of the Mayor’s aides asked me to serve on a new task force.”

“What kind of task force?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Something with schools, maybe?”

“And you agreed without knowing for sure?”

She nodded. “I was just so pleased she’d asked, yeah.”

“My sister told me you gave a great speech. Obviously she wasn’t the only one who thought that.”

Lorelei pulled her legs in towards her chest and leaned forward. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Caroline. And two brothers. David and Matt.”

“Why didn’t I know that?” Her eyebrows pulled together as if she was confused. “Did they go to St. Katharine’s?”

“No. I’m the youngest by several years, so even if they had you probably wouldn’t have known them.” He was going to leave it there, but something had him saying, “Back then my parents couldn’t afford the tuition for fancy prep schools. I was only at St. Katharine’s because of a partial scholarship.”

Understanding crossed her face. “Things changed quickly for you, though?”

“That they did.” That was when he’d learned that being poor was far more acceptable than suddenly coming into money. The poor were treated with pity, but the nouveau riche were treated with suspicion and scorn. It had been a rude awakening.

Lorelei nodded. “I remember.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Everyone was talking about it.”

He’d known, of course, that people had talked—not to him, of course, because that wasn’t the way it was done—but he didn’t like being reminded of it.

“Didn’t your father endow something shortly after that?”

He nodded. “A scholarship fund for other students.” It had been too late for Donovan’s siblings to benefit scholastically from their new wealth, and his folks had always regretted that fact. “Actually, we have scholarship funds in place at all the area private schools.”

“Need or merit?”

“Both.”

She smiled approvingly. “That’s really great.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Not surprised,” she corrected. “Pleased. People often forget to give back.”

“Listen to you. Two weeks as the mini-Vivi and you know all the right things to say.”

A frown crossed her face.

“What?”

“I’m not a mini-Vivi, and I don’t want to be.”

He hadn’t meant it as an insult, but he’d hit a nerve nonetheless. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No. I’m just taking advantage of Vivi being out of the country. I score higher when she’s not around for comparison.”

“You sound bitter.”

“I’m not.”

Disbelief must have shown on his face, because Lorelei became emphatic.

“I’m
not
. Vivi is amazing, and I truly respect and admire her. It’s just that she’s set the bar so darn high it’s impossible for anyone to measure up when she’s around.”

So many things made sense now. “And that’s what you’re trying to do?”

“It’s what I
am
doing,” she said, sitting up straighter. A note of pride entered her voice. “And it’s working. I filled in for Vivi at the Women’s Leadership luncheon, but it was
my
speech.
I
got offered the place on the task force. I
don’t think they offered it only because Vivi wasn’t available. It’s just that everyone in this town is so accustomed to going straight to Vivi that they don’t think about asking someone else. Someone else who might be able to do just as good a job. Maybe even a
better
job because her time isn’t as parceled out already.”

She had a point, but … “That’s what you want? To end up like Vivi eventually?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she said with a laugh.

“It’s not the best.”

The laugh died and the smile disappeared. “Vivi is loved and respected by everybody.” Her hackles were up in defense of her sister.

“Nothing against your sister—you know I think she’s great—but this city is doing its very best to suck her dry. Everyone loves a workhorse because they don’t want to be the one doing the work, and everyone respects those who serve others. It’s like nuns.”

She’d been nodding in agreement until that last sentence. “Nuns?”

“You respect nuns, right?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“Care to join a convent?”

Lorelei choked on her wine and coughed hard.

“I’ll take that as a no. But if you’re after respectability you should probably consider it. It might be easier for you in the long run.”

She leaned back against the arm of the couch in a provocative pose. “Do you think I’m nun material?”

He let his eyes roam slowly over her. “No.”

Lorelei returned the appraisal. “Good.”

“But as far as I can tell there’s very little you can actually do to change people’s minds about you.”

The femme fatale disappeared as Lorelei huffed in exasperation. “I disagree. You only have to prove them wrong.”

“Oh, because that
always
works.”

“
Now
who sounds bitter?” she challenged.

“Resigned, not bitter. There’s a difference.”

“Not really. I will concede that it’s hard to do—”

“Exactly—”

“But,”
she continued, talking over him, “it’s not impossible. Case in point—I thought you were a conceited, blow-hard jerk.”

He liked sparring with her. “And you still do.”

“Because it’s mostly true,” she countered.

“I am not a blow-hard. I’m a respected pundit and journalist.”

“Whatever.” She waved a hand. “But since that’s what you show the world, what do you expect? I speak from personal experience here. Act like a flaky rebel—be treated like a flaky rebel. It’s hard to live down a reputation, but it’s not impossible.”

“Um … hate to break it to you, but your reputation is ‘spoiled brat with a wild streak,’ not ‘flaky rebel.’”

Her jaw dropped. “Not true.”

“True.”

A snort escaped before she caught herself and reschooled her face into a picture of dismay. “Then I’m screwed, because that’s actually the truth.”

“You don’t say?”

“I might actually have to join a convent if I want to counter
that
label.”

“That would be a shame. A waste of talent.”

Lorelei sat up, swung a leg over his, and then settled into his lap. “Jerk.”

“Brat.”

Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are.”

“Wow. I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies, then.”

“I call ’em as I see ’em.”

Lorelei grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. Then her hands moved to the clasp of her bra and she shrugged it off her shoulders.

His hands were already moving to her waist. “And that’s just beautiful.”

Lorelei purred as his fingers slid over her ribs to the soft curve of her breast. Then she was pushing the buttons of his shirt through their holes. “I may be a brat, but I do have good manners. Thank you for dinner. And thanks in advance for the hot sex.”

“The sex is my pleasure. The dinner was nothing.”

“I know.” A sexy smile tugged at her lips as she spread the two halves of his shirt open and slid her palms over his chest with a hum of appreciation. She leaned closer, her nipples barely brushing against his skin. “That’s why I appreciate it.”