The Scandal and Carter O'Neill (14 page)

“So?” Savannah asked, picking at a piece of turkey. “How did you two meet?”

Carter opened his mouth, a vague lie at his lips.

“Your mother, actually,” Zoe said, digging into a pile of mashed potatoes.

Savannah’s gaze was a knifepoint against his throat.

“Do tell,” she said through her teeth.

“VANESSA HAS A job?” Savannah asked after Carter had filled his sister in on their mother’s latest foray into their lives. Katie had been sent into the living room to watch TV and the plates of Thanksgiving Day food were growing cold in front of them. Even Zoe wasn’t eating. “She’s what, living here? In Baton Rouge?”

Savannah looked dejected, her shoulders slightly slumped, the light in her eyes diminished. As if just hearing about Vanessa hurt her, took away the armor of her age and her distance and turned her back into a little girl left on a doorstep.

And this is why I did my best to keep her out of our lives, he thought, his purpose reignited.

“I think so,” he said. “For the time being. But the good news is she doesn’t have the jewels and she’s given up on Margot having the jewels. So, hopefully this is the end.”

“The end except that she’s bribing pregnant women to get you out in alleyways and showing up at your charity fundraisers.” Savannah shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”

Carter hesitated a moment before putting his hand over hers. “She seems…different, somehow. Defeated a little.”

“Good,” Savannah snapped and Carter flinched.

Savannah’s eyes widened. “You’re buying her act, Carter. She’s suckering you in—”

He shook his head, denying it even as he knew that, in a way, it was true. This was his mother and stupidly, he wanted to believe her. “I don’t think it’s an act.”

“That’s how you know it’s an act!” she cried. “Mom’s a con! How can you forget that?”

“I’m not forgetting anything, trust me. I’m just saying she seems changed. She’s broke. She owes people money. She’s alone. I don’t think she’s a threat.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Savannah whispered, her voice charging the silence that followed. Carter didn’t have anything else to say, no words to justify the fact that he thought Vanessa was telling him the truth when she said she was out of angles.

Right now, he felt how much he wanted to believe Vanessa. Wanted to have a mother that wasn’t going to use him for something. It made him nervous, since his entire life had revolved around keeping her away.

“What is this hold she has on you?” Savannah asked. “Ten years ago when you were her alibi in that breaking and entering case—?”

“What about it?” he asked, the sensation of sinking making him sick to his stomach.

“I just can’t believe it—”

“Are you accusing me of lying?” he snapped, sounding guilty to his own ears. He glanced sideways at Zoe, who watched it all with her heart in her eyes.

“No, Carter,” Savannah sighed. “I just don’t understand and I want to. I really want to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand. She was at my apartment the night of the break-in. Why she was there, I have no clue, she just was.” His lies sounded cheap, and the silence his words fell into was so deep, so profound he thought they all might be drowning in it.

“I’m so sorry,” Zoe breathed, sitting beside him looking slightly shell-shocked. Which, he supposed, was the right reaction when getting the greatest hits version of the Notorious O’Neills’ exploits. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Well, at least she got that right.

“No,” Savannah said, sparking to life, “you did the right thing, because Carter never would have told me. Would you?”

He sat back, tired of dealing with this anger. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t.”

“Because you’re still being the protective older brother—”

“No! Because what’s the point?” He stood. “Look at you, Savvy. You’ve moved on. You’re making a family. A new life. You don’t need this crap.”

“And you do?”

He was silent. The sounds of Katie’s TV show in the living room tinkled through the kitchen door—where she was probably standing and eavesdropping, despite being told not to.

“She’s why you weren’t going to come back for Christmas, isn’t it?”

“I’m busy,” he said, through tight lips.

“You’re an ass.”

“It’s really easy for you to judge me, Savvy, but everything I’ve done I have done to keep you guys safe. To keep her away from you.”

“And I am telling you we are no longer kids. Tyler and I can take care of ourselves.” Savannah stood and put her hands on his shoulders, her damp blue eyes a weight on his heart. “I would rather have you in my life,” she said, “in Katie’s life and the baby’s life, even if it meant I had to deal with Mom.”

“Last time you dealt with her she broke into your house, remember? Terrified you and Katie. Broke your heart all over again. That’s what you want?”

“If it means I’d get my big brother back, then yes.”

Carter didn’t have anything else to say, no words to make the years somehow right. He rested his head against hers.

“He’ll be there at Christmas,” Zoe said, and Carter spun to face her as she clapped her hands over her mouth.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking pained and uncomfortable. “But look at you guys. You need to be home for Christmas.”

“This is my life, Zoe,” he said, stunned at her audacity. “You can’t speak for me.”

“I know,” she said and stood. “I know. You’re right. And I’ve done enough. I’ve—” Her eyes, those big green eyes, met his and he saw too much. He saw her longing and her respect. Her sadness and her thousand-pound, happily-ever-after wishes. For all of them. “I’ve made a mess of things.” Her laugh was sharp and awkward and Savannah flinched against him. “I told you that’s the sort of thing I do. I’ll—” she gestured toward the door “—leave. Thank you for the food and…” Her swallow was audible, her blush florescent. “Last night.”

Her eyes clung to his again. “Thanks,” she whispered and then she was gone. Out of the kitchen and through the living room.

Don’t go after her, he told himself, willing his feet to be rooted to the kitchen floor. You’ve done that already. It’s her turn.

His mind was a mess, everything in disarray. He needed some time to get things back in line and Zoe was counterproductive to all of that—it was better to give it some time, let both of them cool off. Let him get his life under control.

“Wait,” he called and followed her, catching her at the front door, Katie’s big blue eyes watching every move.

“You don’t need to chase me down,” Zoe said, turning away from the door. “You’re off Prince Charming duty.”

“It’s not a duty, Zoe,” he said, wondering if anything he’d said—anything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours—had mattered to her. He felt like the stuffing was being pulled out of his life. Chaos reigned and he was letting it happen because that was Zoe’s natural habitat and he wanted her around.

But if she didn’t want to be in his life, he wasn’t about to beg.

“I’m going to let you call me,” he said, and her eyes went wide.

“What?” she breathed.

“Normally after a night like last night, one person has to call the other, and I think I’m going to let it be you.”

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“You know how I feel,” he said with a shrug, as if it was casual when it felt anything but. When it felt like there was more on the line than there had ever been. He felt desperate and reckless, so out of control he couldn’t even recognize himself.

There was a long pause and his heart, on ice for the last few years, wanted desperately to crawl back to the freezer.

He knew it. This tough, woman-in-control-of-her-life persona was just an act. In the end, she was too scared to try. Too unwilling—

“I’ll call you,” she said, and while he stood there, dumbstruck, she leaned in, kissed his lips and was out the door with a quick wave to Katie.

Sunlight poked holes through the dark corners of his life, and he turned to find his sister and niece staring at him with giant smiles across their faces. They shared a quick, laughing glance, and he didn’t even care that they were laughing at him.

“We like her, Uncle Carter,” Katie said, bouncing on his leather sofa.

“So do I,” he agreed, rubbing the place on his chest where his heart beat so damn hard. “So do I.”

MONDAY MORNING, Jim Blackwell opened his e-mail and felt a crack in the world open up around him. Angels sang. Heavenly light spilled across his desk and computer. Even Noelle Gilbert in the cubicle beside him looked less dour.

Carter O’Neill was holding a press conference on Wednesday night. There was not a question in Jim’s mind that Carter was going to announce his candidacy for mayor in the 2011 primary.

A half hour later, when he got an e-mail notification that the mayor would be holding a press conference next week as well, Jim nearly did a jig.

Mayor-President Higgins was going to endorse the Golden Boy.

After the weekend Jim’d had, this was the kind of news to make a man want to sing. He’d applied some subtle pressure to the HR woman out at The Rouge about that blond dealer but he hadn’t gotten anywhere.

It was beginning to feel as though this Carter O’Neill story was going nowhere, and his head hurt from beating it against a wall.

But now, with Carter all but cinching the Democratic ticket, now the rats would come out of the woodwork. They always did.

“Noelle,” he said, and she turned her mousy pointed nose toward him. “I’m in such a good mood, I think I’ll let you buy me a coffee today.”

“Go to hell, Blackwell,” she sneered.

Ah well, Noelle wasn’t feeling the love.

“Jim?” Tom said, wheeling his chair out around the edge of his cubicle. “You got a minute?”

Jim was even feeling okay about Tom. As okay about Tom as one could feel, so he said, “Absolutely,” without any sarcasm.

“In the meeting room.” Tom stood and walked over to the glass door of the big conference room.

“This about the press conference?” Jim asked, following Tom through the glass doors into the cool dark room. “Because I think—”

“I’m giving the press conference to Noelle.”

“You’re…what?”

“You’re unglued, Jim. A loose cannon. I can’t risk you in that press conference.”

“But Noelle doesn’t know the history. The angle.”

“There is no angle. The only history is the stuff you’ve made up. You’re off the story. We’re going to put you on state politics.”

“This is insane. I’m so close—”

“The head of HR out at The Rouge called this morning, Jim.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “So what?”

“She called William.”

Oh, he thought, something like worry creeping in. William was the editor in chief, and he had ties to The Rouge, protected that little cesspool like it was Baton Rouge’s second coming.

“When you called to interrogate her this weekend, she thought you were doing a story on lax hiring practices, so when you hung up, she fired the blond dealer and put the pit boss on probation. After that, she called William to insist that there was nothing underhanded going on.”

“The story isn’t about The Rouge.”

“I know that.” Tom stood and stepped closer to where Jim was sitting. “I know that you don’t think much of me, and I’ve let you get away with a lot because of the work you did last year—but enough is enough, Jim. You’re leaving Carter O’Neill alone.”

Jim sat back and stretched his arms up over his head, prepared to fight fire with fire. “And if I don’t?”

Tom smiled, wide and bright like a kid on Christmas Day. “Then you’re fired, Jim. I don’t care about the awards you’ve won. You don’t stop chasing windmills, and I will so happily—you have no idea how happily—shit-can you right back down to a weekly somewhere in Nebraska.”

Tom stalked out, leaving Jim’s good day and possibly his career decimated.

Jim’s eyes narrowed.

You don’t own me, he thought. And you don’t own this story.

ZOE STROKED HER THUMB over the send button on her cell phone. One little push. Just a little tiny—

She pressed the button, her heart hammering in her throat. It was too late. She couldn’t call him at eleven o’clock at night on a Monday. That was crazy. This whole thing was crazy.

She looked up at Carter’s house, the windows alight, and felt like a sick, perverted stalker. That she had ginger cookies and salsa with her made it all a little worse.

“Hello?” he said after the second ring, and the rough/smooth quality of his voice sent every internal muscle quivering.

I remember him! her body cried. I remember and I want him back!

“Anyone there?”

“Hi…ah…Carter,” she said and winced. “It’s Zoe.”

His laugh was dark and rich, and she wanted to flop back on the ground and roll around in the sound of it.

“Hello, Zoe.” His tone said he seemed to sense her discomfort and it made her smile. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she said. “Great actually. I met with Eric Lafayette.”

“And…”

“And, he’s going to help me with the academy. Money, help finding the building,” she paused, still feeling as if she were floating, and the meeting had been at noon. “Thank you, Carter.”

“It wasn’t me, Zoe. It was you. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. And how about you? How was your day?” This would be a very normal conversation if she weren’t outside his house, like a stalker. Maybe she should just leave. But she wanted so badly to see him.

Ever since leaving the Lafayette offices she’d been thinking of Carter and sharing this news with him. More than telling her mother or even Phillip, she had thought of Carter.

“Well, I’ve scheduled a press conference to announce my intentions to be mayor-president next term.”

“Get out!” she gasped, and he laughed. “That’s fantastic, Carter. Congrats!”

There was a long pause and Zoe looked up at the bright window. “Carter? Are you okay?”

“I think it’s just my mom being back in town. And Blackwell is all over my ass in the papers. I can’t make a single right move. I feel…”

“Trapped.”

His laugh was a short little huff. “Exactly, Zoe. That’s exactly how I feel. Let’s meet for a coffee, or…” She heard him fumble with something. “I guess it might be too late?”

“No,” she squeaked. She took a few steps to his door and rang his doorbell. “Not too late.”

“Hold on a second. Someone’s at my door.” She heard him thumping toward the front door on the phone and wondered if she was going to die of embarrassment.

The door swung open and she held her breath, unprepared for the sight of him in sweatpants and a ratty Old Miss T-shirt. His feet were bare and they were probably the most handsome feet on the planet. Maybe the universe.

Yeah! her hormones cried. Yeah for us!

“Zoe!” he said, his smile bright and unguarded. He was truly happy to see her, and all her embarrassment fled the scene. Well, most of it—she still had a bagful of cookies and salsa to explain away.

He glanced down at his phone and shut it with a laugh. “This is great!”

“Are you sure? I was so excited about my day, and it was so busy that by the time I thought of coming over here and celebrating with you, I didn’t realize what time it was. And it’s late. I mean…for me. But maybe for you, too. So anyway, we could do this another time—”

He pulled her into his house, right into his arms.

His kiss was sweet with just a little spice, and she sighed and melted right into him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered against her lips, his fingers sliding under the thin hem of her shirt and finding the sensitive skin of her side, her back, the curve of her hips.

“Me, too,” she said, dropping her bag, cookies and all, so her hands could return the favor. Muscles jumped and twitched under her fingertips and the sweetness of the kisses was soon consumed by heat.

She kicked the door shut behind her and he laughed.

“How do you want to celebrate?” he asked, his hands sliding across her stomach up to her full, aching breasts.

“Take me into your bedroom and I’ll show you.”

AN HOUR LATER SHE GOT DOWN to revealing her dirty secret.

“You put the cookies in the salsa?” he asked. They sat at his kitchen table wearing nothing but moonlight and smiles.

“Dip them, actually.” She showed him then sighed with bliss. She didn’t think it was possible, but they were even better after sex.

“You know you smelled like ginger cookies the first time I met you?” he said.

“When I stood on that chair?” she asked. “Really?”

He nodded and dipped one tiny piece of cookie in the salsa.

“Coward,” she teased.

“Sweetheart, I mean you no offense, but there’s no way this tastes good. I’m only humoring you out of my sincere gratitude for the filthy things you just did to me.”

She blushed. They had been filthy. He bit into the cookie and grimaced. “Not good,” he said. “At all.” He took another bite, this time just of cookie. “But the cookies are great.”

They ate in a silence so companionable, so rich with mutual affection, that she did something foolish.

“Do you like kids?” she blurted, and he stared, slightly dumbfounded, at her. “I mean, I guess I should know that, right? Unless, maybe you aren’t thinking you’ll be around or…whatever.”

Yeah. That went well.

“I like kids a lot,” he said solemnly. “I practically raised my brother and sister and even my grandmother is kind of a kid. And as for being around, I don’t know, Zoe. Neither one of us does, but if something happens and we break up—it’s not going to be because you’re having a baby.” He looked down at the salsa and cookies. “It might be because of your strange food addictions, but not because of the baby.”

“Well, it won’t be because of your mother, or your past, either,” she said.

Carter was quiet for a second, taking a long time to chew, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong. “What about your mother?” he asked.

“Oh, well, trust me, if she had her way, we would never have started this. So, yes. In the end, she might be the straw that breaks your back.” She tried to laugh, but found she couldn’t. It was true. More true than she cared to admit.