The Scandal and Carter O'Neill (6 page)

“Oh, boy.”

“That blond woman?” she said, “who paid me all that money?” She pushed past the tension in his face, the chill in his eyes. “Who is she?”

“She’s no one,” he said. “Absolutely no one.”

“Porterhouses?” Their waiter arrived from nowhere and started to unload a giant tray of food.

“Holy…is this all ours?” Carter asked as the baked and scalloped potatoes hit the table.

“Welcome to my world,” she said.

And dug in.

CARTER WALKED ZOE UP to her door, his hand cupping her elbow like he was holding a little fire in his palm.

“You know if teaching dance stops working for you, I think you could go cross-country and enter eating contests. You like pie, right? Hot dogs?”

She tried to look offended but he just laughed.

“I have never in my life seen someone eat like you just did.”

“I am going to choose to take that as a compliment,” she said, sticking her little nose in the air. It was cute. She was cute.

She was funny and opinionated and elegant and goofy.

A combination he hadn’t seen in a woman in years. This fake date, this task he’d had to take on, had begun to feel good. And his irritation with the elf had turned into something else entirely.

Maybe it was watching her put away all that steak.

He liked her. Was intrigued by her.

“Where are all the reporters?” she asked as they climbed the steps to her apartment building unbothered. “Maybe we’re already old news.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Carter said. “They might be lurking in the bushes.”

“I doubt it,” she said, pausing in front of the glass security door. “I think in terms of scandals we’re pretty tame these days.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, turning to face her.

The moonlight slashed through the courtyard, cutting ribbons of white out of the darkness and her eyes glimmered in the half-light.

She licked her lips, leaving them damp, and the moment melted into steam and heat.

“I didn’t tell you how beautiful you look,” he whispered.

“No,” she said. “You didn’t.”

“I should have.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. The sounds of crickets deafening in the sudden silence. Her hands smoothed over her belly. God, his need to touch her. To grab her even—it was nuts. He’d never in his life felt this way. Compelled.

Like he wanted to open his mouth and inhale her.

And before he knew it, before he could stop it, he was leaning down to kiss her. His fingers slid from her elbow to the fine skin of her neck.

Velvet. Every inch of her was velvet.

“Carter,” she whispered, her lips inches from his.

“Yes.”

“I don’t usually do this.”

“Me neither.”

“It’s the hormones,” she said. “The pregnancy. They’re making me crazy.”

He laughed and, oddly, it didn’t ruin the mood. “Okay.”

“And your suit. I love a man in a suit.”

“I have lots.”

“And the steak—”

“Zoe?”

“Yes?”

“Can I please kiss you?”

Her smile illuminated the darkness, a neon sign in the midnight sky. “Yes,” she sighed.

He’d never kissed a woman while smiling and it was a hot sweetness. Honey on his lips, fire on his tongue.

And then the night exploded in flashbulbs. The whirr and click of cameras. Zoe jerked away, stumbling slightly and he grabbed her to hold her steady, his palms melting into her skin.

“Give us a kiss, Zoe!” yelled the scum-sucking paparazzo standing in the shadows beside the bushes.

Zoe flinched, and even in the moonlight he could tell all the color had leeched from her skin.

Her eyes, vulnerable and angry, crushed him.

“I didn’t know that guy was there,” he said, but she pulled her elbows into herself, becoming tiny against the night as she slipped away from him.

“Come on, sweetie, don’t be mad!” the photographer yelled, and Zoe ducked her head, fumbled in her pea-green bag for her keys. Her fingers shook and tears poised themselves on the edge of her eyelashes.

“Zoe—”

The door cracked open and she was gone. A flash of pink, a long leg and he was alone in the night, his blood hammering hard through his body.

“Not your night, huh?” Jim Blackwell emerged from behind the bushes like the devil stepping into the light.

Don’t hit him. You can’t hit him.

Hitting him would only make things worse.

But the urge was a wild dog at his heels.

“No comment?” Jim asked.

“Go to hell, Jim,” Carter said and walked away, his night in ruins around him.

“DEPUTY DEADBEAT DADDY Denied?” Amanda asked as she walked into the office on Monday morning. She tossed the paper onto Carter’s desk so he could see, once again, the photo on the front page.

There he was, in bright crisp and clear color, leaning in, eyes closed, lips pursed—puckered up, really, like a child. But that wasn’t even the best part of the photo—no, the look on Zoe’s face as she leaned away from him, as if Carter were made of stinky cheese—that was the best part of the photo.

“It gets worse,” Amanda said.

“USA Today?”

“No, YouTube. The photographer got video. Deputy Deadbeat Daddy Denied is worldwide right now.”

“Great,” he muttered, spinning in his chair to face the window. Outside it was a gorgeous day, blue skies, fluffy white clouds—everything mocked him.

Why did I try to kiss her? he wondered, feeling thick and heavy. This wasn’t supposed to be real.

She wasn’t supposed to be so damn real.

One of the most real things he’d experienced in a long time.

He had no idea what she was thinking about right now, and he hated that he wondered. That he cared.

Stupid was the word. He felt stupid.

“I’ll deal with it,” he said.

“How?”

I’m not sure yet, he admitted to himself.

“I have a meeting with Eric Lafayette in an hour about the Glenview—”

“You can’t just brush this off,” Amanda snapped. “Eleven months until elections, Carter. You want a life in public service, you need to handle this crap. Pretending it’s not happening isn’t going to make it go away.”

“I’m not. I said I’d deal with it, and I will.”

“Carter, I’m on your side. I can help.”

“You want to call Zoe and explain that the kiss wasn’t a promotional stunt?” he snapped.

“Er…no?”

“Then we’re done here.”

After a long moment Amanda got the point and left.

Zoe’s stink face stared up from the paper and he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled out his cell phone and faced the music.

ZOE’S CELL PHONE RATTLED against her kitchen counter, and her heart did a similar dance against her rib cage.

She didn’t know why she was so nervous, or frankly, how she knew it was Carter calling.

But she was nervous and it was him.

“You want me to talk to him?” Penny asked, ready to rush to Zoe’s defense, as though they were on the playground and Carter pushed her off the slide.

“I can handle this, Mom,” she said, though she was slightly afraid she couldn’t. She’d woken up this morning to Penny and the front page of the paper.

A combination that had her running for the ginger cookies and salsa and she didn’t care who saw.

It was bad, being kissed for a publicity stunt, but it was far worse to have that kiss all over the front page of the paper. And she wasn’t even the one that looked bad.

Poor Carter.

His pride must be sore this morning.

She scooped up the phone and answered it as she walked into her bedroom and some privacy.

“Hello,” she said, cool as a cucumber.

“Zoe, it’s Carter.”

“Good morning,” she said, channeling every aloof and distant receptionist she’d ever come across.

“Zoe.” He sighed, and she heard the frustration in his voice, a certain weariness that pulled at her.

Do not fall for that again, she told herself. This is a man you are fake dating. That’s it.

“You’ve seen the paper?” he asked.

She nodded then realized how stupid that was. “Yes,” she said. “I have.”

“I didn’t know that photographer was there,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, not at all cucumber-like. “He just happened to burst out from behind the bushes the moment we…kiss?” she whispered the last word, sure her mother was eavesdropping. Not that Penny didn’t know about the kiss; Zoe just didn’t want to talk about it with her mom listening.

“I had no idea,” Carter said. “I promise.”

Promise? she thought. Something about Carter making a promise to her seemed authentic. It wasn’t something he would do lightly.

If it wasn’t a stunt, that meant the kiss was real. Genuine.

And somehow that was worse. She didn’t know what to do with those feelings. There was no slot in her life for wanting to kiss Carter.

“And if I really wanted to catch you in some kind of compromising position, it backfired—”

“Terribly,” she agreed. Then, because the photo was so awful, and the situation so ridiculous, she started to laugh.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said, and laughed some more. Some of that strange magic from last night lingered on her skin, the tips of her hair. She felt young and giddy.

“It is a bad photo,” he admitted, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. “The worst!”

She turned and sat on the edge of her bed and saw her mother standing in the doorway, her face cut into stern, unforgiving lines.

Zoe’s laughter died in her throat.

The magic vanished, and she felt like a teenager caught doing something wrong.

She plucked at the knee of her yoga pants.

“So?” she asked, terribly aware of her mother’s eyes, her judgment. Even more aware that her mother, standing there with all the experience of a single parent, was probably right.

Zoe had no business worrying about Carter O’Neill’s promises. Or teasing him. She was going to have a baby in a few months; she needed to focus on that.

“Are we done?” Zoe asked. “No more dates?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I have to do a little more damage control after Deadbeat Daddy Denied.”

She ignored the little zing of excitement, smothered it with all kinds of worry and anxiety. More fake dates. More photos. More hand-holding.

“What…ah…what’s next?” She had no idea where mayor pro temps went on a second fake date.

“The National Ballet is in town.”

Oh, he was hitting her where it hurt. She would give her teeth to go see the ballet.

“How about Wednesday evening,” he said. “We’ll get some dinner—”

“No dinner,” she said. She had made Carter a promise, but her mother was right; dating right now, fake or not, was a distraction she didn’t need. If this was business, she would keep it business.

“I’ll meet you there,” she said. Her mother made a disgusted noise and vanished from the doorway, leaving her alone in the sunny silence of her room.

She cleared her throat, lowered her voice. “And no…no more kissing.”

Carter was silent a long time and Zoe’s heart pounded in her ears. “I wanted to kiss you, Zoe,” he said, his voice gruff. “I didn’t fake it and I certainly never expected it.”

“I know,” she said. Being noble sucked. “I didn’t, either, but…this relationship isn’t real and never could be, or would be if I hadn’t created such a bizarre situation.”

“I agree.”

“Great,” she said, bright as day. “Then let’s keep it businesslike.”

Carter’s laugh made her smile and her heart twist. “Something tells me, Zoe, that you wouldn’t know businesslike if it came up and bit you on the nose.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “But you do, so I’ll follow your lead.”

“What if businesslike isn’t all I want?” he asked and she nearly melted in response.

“Then you are fake-dating the wrong woman,” she said. “Because that’s all I’ve got right now.”

Please, she added silently, don’t push. Don’t make this harder than it is.

“Okay. I’ll see you Wednesday. I’ll call you with details.”

Zoe disconnected and stared at her phone in her palm, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. One thing was for sure, she had to tell her mother the truth about this fake-dating situation—there was no other way to avoid the lecture of a lifetime.

She pulled together her courage and went out into the kitchen where her mother was using a wicked sharp blade to pulverize a bunch of apples.

“What are you doing?” Zoe asked carefully.

“Making applesauce,” she answered, then slammed down the blade, and Zoe jumped. “The question is, what are you doing?”

“It’s nothing, Mom.” When Penny opened her mouth to respond Zoe held up her hand and told her everything. About the newspaper. The arrangement. Carter’s career. All of it.

“See, Mom,” she said, looking forward to getting her mother off her back. “It’s one hundred percent nothing.”

“Look at you,” Mom said. “You’re lying to yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” Zoe sighed. Apparently she hadn’t avoided the lecture. Lucky her. “It’s not nothing I see on your face,” Mom snapped, her face red and blotchy with ire. “It’s not nothing I hear in your voice.”

“What is it, then? Since you’re the expert on me?”

“You like him.”

“I don’t.”

“You kissed! It was all over the paper.”

Instantly she remembered the lush weight of his lips, the way her whole body had contracted with a desire so delicious, so consuming it had seemed painful.

An ache beneath her skin.

It had been unlike any other kiss in her life. Like her first taste of good wine, sweet and rich. Dangerous.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Zoe. That’s so dangerous. If you like him, admit it, but pretending you don’t is just asking for heartache.”

“Okay, fine, let’s say I like him. What’s wrong with that?”

“Zoe, can’t you see what you’re doing? This is your pattern. One mistake after another, thinking the second one will fix the first. You rush into situations without thinking.”

Zoe felt a cold chill at the top of her spine and sat down on the stool by the counter.

Penny was right.

She did know a thing or two about mistakes.

“I’ve picked you up after every heartbreak, every disappointment, every situation you thought was going to be so amazing, only to have it fall apart around you.”

“I know,” she said, numbed by the truth.

“You need to use your head now, not your heart. Your life is about to be harder, in ways you don’t even understand, and that man will be gone.”

“Not every man is like Dad.”

“And you can tell me for sure that Carter O’Neill isn’t? That he’d stick around for the birth of a baby that isn’t his?”

There was no chance of that, Zoe thought. None at all.

And, despite the magic and the teasing and the zing under her skin when she saw him, she didn’t want him around for the birth of her baby, so this whole argument was moot.

“It’s just some fun, Mom. That’s it.”

“It’s never just fun,” Penny said, shaking her head. “Someone always gets hurt. Always. And I don’t want that person to be you, because you’ve got enough on your plate.”

See, Zoe thought, her impulsive nature once again stymied by Mom’s rationality. There was nothing her mother said that she could argue with.

Liking him, really liking Carter, was asking for trouble.

“You’re so busy with work and getting things ready for the baby, you don’t have time to be distracted.”

That, too, was true.

“There will be men, in the future, if you want them, but there is only one time in your life like this. One time to devote to your child.”

And another one for Mom.

“You know I’m right,” Penny said, her case made, Zoe sitting slightly sad over a mess of apples.

“You are,” Zoe admitted, taking a piece of apple off the cutting board.

A couple more dates, a few more photographs, and she and Carter were over. They had to be.

MONDAY, CARTER SAID good-night to Larry at the security desk then stepped out into the black-edged purple night. It fit his mood, dark and darker.

This impending moment had been riding him all day. The cherry on top of what had already been a weird day.

His meeting with Lafayette had been successful, but even that victory couldn’t chase Zoe out of his thoughts.

Why had he told Zoe his feelings for her weren’t businesslike? What idiotic devil had possessed him to say something so stupid? These dates were fake. Arranged.

Zoe had it right—this was business. Nothing else.

And somehow Zoe shook that. Made him wish things were different.

He turned left outside the glass doors and searched the quiet dusk for evil blondes of his bloodline. The night-blooming jasmine battled with the smells of the city street, and he could hear the highway humming in the distance. But right now, right here, all was quiet in his city.

Across the street, in the deepest shadows in the alleyway between a McDonald’s and a barbershop, he saw a flash of white, the glowing tip of a cigarette.

And then it was gone.

He paused for a moment, making sure no photographer was following him, then he cut across the street, eager to have this over with. A taxi honked, breezing past, and he ignored it, focused instead on finding his mother and getting rid of her once and for all.