The Downfall of a Good Girl

by Kimberly Lang

  She sat on the bench and ran her hands lightly over the keys without making a sound. She traced the shapes and the edges with her fingers, not really wanting to think about the repercussions of what she’d just done, but unable to escape it.

  Against all good judgment she’d let her libido bring her here tonight, and that had worked out pretty well, making her now question her judgment in general. Letting go of all that adolescent angst was an excellent idea—in theory, at least. It was a shame, though, that she hadn’t done that before she’d shown up at his door like she was desperate for his body.

  Did she feel better? Definitely. Lorelei might have had a point about the joys of being bad after all. All the tension seemed gone from her body, if not her mind. If this was what being bad was all about, she now understood the appeal. How something could feel right and wrong at the same time, though, was a conundrum her brain just couldn’t process. Had she used him? Had he used her? Was it really possible that years of angst and anger could disappear just like that? Was she being shallow, falling under the allure of Connor Mansfield? No, that much she was sure of. Whatever she’d done, whatever this was, it had nothing to do with who Connor was other than just himself.

  Like that hadn’t proved tempting enough.

  But why had it happened now instead of five or ten years ago?

  Maybe things just had their own timelines, and she shouldn’t question it. Tonight felt momentous—and not just because of the toe-curling experiences she’d discovered in Connor’s bed. No, she felt on the edge of something—like she’d left a part of herself behind and was moving into something new.

  But that something new wouldn’t—couldn’t—involve Connor. He wasn’t a permanent kind of guy.

  How many women had Connor made the papers with? It was a veritable Who’s Who of celebrity singles—all of them beautiful, powerful and talented—but none of them had lasted longer than a month or so. The idea of a fling had never appealed to her, though; it just wasn’t something she thought she’d do. Now she seemed to be in one, and while she didn’t quite understand it, she was okay with it. Connor might not be a permanent kind of guy, but he seemed to bring about excellent transitions.

  Vivi felt more than heard Connor behind her, and a second later she felt his hands stroking her hair. Leaning back, she let her weight rest against Connor’s thighs as he ran those long fingers through her hair, removing the tangles. She wanted to purr. Obviously her libido wasn’t done with her yet.

  “Do you play, Vivi?”

  She shook her head. “Just ‘Chopsticks.’ Badly, I might add.”

  Connor scooted her forward on the bench and moved in behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his naked thighs surrounding hers. The muscles in those thighs felt like iron and the crisp hairs tickled her skin. His hands slid under hers, lining them up from fingers to elbows as he began to play slowly.

  “I thought you were supposed to be resting your hands.”

  “Shh.” His breath moved the hair at her temple.

  It was a simple but beautiful string of notes, and as long as she remained still and relaxed, her hands moved with his.

  And now that she knew exactly how talented Connor’s hands were, watching him play seemed intensely erotic, and feeling him play under her hands made it all the more intimate.

  Too intimate. Too intense.

  She let her hands slide off his and into her lap.

  Connor’s fingers changed direction and tempo, and the string of notes turned into a melody. The muscles in his forearms flexed, and she could feel his chest and shoulders moving against her like a massage.

  And then he began to sing quietly, his voice just inches above her ear.

  Oh, it’s raining,

  Outside her window, inside her soul.

  His voice. Mercy. It was a shot of straight sex, but served with a side of emotion that reverberated through her. She let her hands slide over the thick muscle of his thighs and heard the quick catch of his breath.

  And her blue eyes,

  Just keep cryin’,

  While she remembers a love untold.

  The music died abruptly when Connor’s hands came to rest on hers again, twining their fingers together and tracing them along the seams where his thighs met hers.

  “I’m not familiar with that song.”

  Connor’s chin rested on her shoulder and his breath moved across her neck. “It’s just something I’ve been working on.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  She felt his shrug. “It’s different. We’ll see how it goes over.”

  “It’ll be a hit. Just like the others.”

  “That’s the hope.”

  “Hope? You’re Connor freakin’ Mansfield.”

  “The public is fickle. That’s why there are so many one-hit wonders.”

  He released her hands. One arm snaked around her waist, his thumb brushing lightly over the bottom of her ribs. The other went back to the keyboard where he started to play again, soft and slow. She recognized the top-line melody of one of his early songs.

  “You never know when they’ll turn on you.”

  Connor sounded…almost vulnerable. Worried. That was ridiculous. Why would he be? Or had the sordid and tawdry headlines affected him more than he allowed others to know? “Your fans love you.”

  “They love an idea. An image. That Connor has little to do with me personally.”

  “And who’s that Connor?” She was almost afraid to ask, but the quiet and the dark created an intimacy of the moment that lent itself to deep questions.

  She felt his smile against her cheek. “Interestingly enough, I’d say it was the same Connor you dislike so much.”

  That didn’t make sense. The arrogance, the swagger, the lady-killing charm. The confidence…She, too, had been reacting to that—negatively, of course—but now that they’d called their truce she was realizing and remembering everything else she knew about Connor. How kind he’d been to Lorelei when she was deep in her crush on him years ago. How serious he was about this competition—and not just to beat her. She thought shamefully about some of her own motivations. How hard he’d practiced, even amid the taunts of boys more interested in touchdowns than Tchaikovsky. How ready he’d been to put the past behind them.

  Had she been judging him unfairly? Using her own adolescent grudges and his recent notoriety to prevent her from seeing Connor as a person?

  Connor was far more complex than she’d realized or given him credit for. Consciously at least. The fact none of this surprised her meant she’d known it all along and just refused to recognize it. Wow, she was shallow.

  No. Everything had been such a roller coaster since that closet door slammed shut, and in retrospect she’d gotten glimpses into Connor that had led her here tonight. Great. That just made tonight even more complicated. Maybe her subconscious was smarter than she gave it credit and that was why it had let her libido push her here. To force her to think. Damn it, she didn’t want to think. Wasn’t not thinking the whole point of carpe diem?

  Vivi put her right hand on the keyboard and tried to remember the notes Connor had played earlier. As she stumbled around Connor began pointing to the correct keys. After a few tries she had sixteen counts’ worth.

  “Just repeat that phrase. Same tempo.”

  Connor’s left hand began a much more complicated set, playing perfectly off her few notes, yet it was completely different than the earlier tune. It was incredible not only to witness but to be a part of. She played the last note, and Connor ended with a flourish.

  She dropped her hands back into her lap and, surprisingly, Connor’s followed. He ran his fingers gently over her wrists and arms.

  “That’s amazing, Connor.” She felt him shrug in response. “I mean it. I felt like I was actually playing something.”

  “You were.”

  “With help, though.”

  “That doesn’t mean you weren’t part of it.”

  But Connor was a solo a
ct. Still, there was something wonderful about being inside his arms as he played. The sensation of feeling him create the music…It was silly, but she wanted him to play something else. She was about to ask when she remembered he was supposed to be resting his hands.

  There was a slight pang of disappointment, but it was quickly routed when Connor placed a feather-light kiss on her neck. His hands moved from her arms to the buttons of her borrowed shirt, opening them and sliding inside to caress her lower stomach and tease her breasts. His movements became more focused, his thumb rasping across her nipple, wringing a gasp from her and causing her to grip his thighs for purchase. Vivi could feel his erection hardening against her back, and her breath picked up as his did. She arched, pressing her breast into his hand when a finger slipped between her legs and slid inside.

  Just like that the switch was flipped, and Vivi’s focus narrowed sharply. She opened her legs wider, quietly demanding more, and Connor obliged, whispering encouragement between pressing hot kisses against her neck and shoulders.

  With a groan, Connor turned her around, wrapping her legs around his waist, and leaned her back against the piano. Her elbows hit the keyboard, making an off-key chord, as Connor flicked the rest of the buttons out of their holes and spread the edges of her shirt wide.

  A big hand slid up her torso, over her chest and neck, before circling around her nape to tangle in her hair. His eyes were hooded as he examined the freckles sprinkled across the tops of her breasts. A tug pulled her fully into his lap again, where the crisp hairs on his chest tickled her nipples as his mouth claimed hers. A surge of those powerful thighs had him on his feet, and Vivi clung to him as he carried her back to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.

  She had no idea what she was doing. It scared her not to know what this was. But it didn’t scare her enough to stop, because whatever this was, it was good. She’d sort out the rest later.

  Connor had vague memories of Vivi kissing him as the first weak rays of sunshine began to lighten the curtains. He didn’t realize it had been a goodbye kiss until the alarm went off and he woke to find her side of the bed empty and cold. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her sneaky departure, but since their first attempt at post-coital conversation had ended in her nearly walking out, he was almost relieved not to have to deal with the possible awkwardness this morning.

  Almost.

  Two hours later, he was seated between the director of the local humanities council and the director of an after-school program at a brunch meeting of the city’s non-profit organizations. His mom was seated across from him, but she was there in her capacity as the current chair of…something. He couldn’t remember which of the many organizations she was involved with. The broader purpose of the meeting was to discuss fundraising in general, but half the people in the room had known him since he was a child, which made this a little surreal, to say the least.

  Vivi was about five chairs down, and other than a very quick greeting when she hadn’t quite met his eyes, they hadn’t spoken two words to each other. Everyone seemed very careful to keep them apart and refrained from talking to him about Vivi—which only took this to new levels of surrealism, because that never happened. But every now and then he heard someone say her name or heard her laugh. This was Vivi’s element; she knew every single person here—as a contributing adult, unlike him—and she had probably worked with most of them at some point.

  He might have been imagining it, but Vivi seemed to be avoiding him even more than usual. Either she was over-compensating, so as not to give away their activities of the previous evening, or she was having serious regrets. Either way, it irked him.

  He kept half an eye on her, noting how she kept stifling yawns as the meal concluded. Once the mingling began, he eventually ended up close enough to actually speak to her—except that there were seven other people standing with them. Vivi looked distinctly uncomfortable, and she’d probably bolt if given the opportunity. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he was seconds from pulling her aside and finding out what the problem was.

  But Dr. Robins, the head of an inner-city free clinic, put a stop to that plan. “So, how was last night?”

  It took Connor a second to figure out what the man was talking about. Damn, the jazz cruise seemed like it had happened days ago. “It was very nice. I haven’t done one of those riverboat cruises in years.” Seeing his opening, he turned to Vivi. “What about you? Did you enjoy yourself last night, Vivi?”

  The mimosa in Vivi’s hand sloshed dangerously close to the rim as she jumped, but she recovered quickly. She shot him a warning look. “I did, thank you. Very much.” Then the corner of her mouth twitched. “It’s funny. I wasn’t sure that I would, but I was very pleasantly surprised.”

  It was very hard to keep his amusement in check and his face neutral. “Glad to hear it. You left so quickly once we docked I wasn’t sure.”

  “I was tired and wanted to get home. Plus, I didn’t want Lorelei to wonder where I was.”

  That made sense. Since none of the people around them understood the subtext, he decided to push a little harder. “It was quite a busy evening, wasn’t it? So many different things happening. What was your favorite part, Vivi?”

  Her cheeks turned a little pink. “There’s so much to choose from. But you’re quite good on the piano, and I found myself enjoying that more than I thought I would.”

  He was going to ask her something else, but a woman he didn’t know spoke first.

  “You played for the guests last night? How wonderful for them.”

  Great. Vivi shot him a smile that told him she’d done that on purpose. “Just a couple of songs to help the party along.”

  “There’s a piano here. Maybe you could play for us?”

  Vivi answered before he could. “He can’t.” All eyes swiveled in her direction.

  She wouldn’t. “Vivi…”

  “It’s not fair, Connor.” Her voice took on that clipped, chilly tone he knew so well. “You have this great talent, and it makes me look me look bad when you keep showing off like that.” She turned to the crowd. “I’m doing everything I can to keep up as it is. He has an unfair advantage, you know. Don’t encourage him.”

  He wanted to kiss her. She could have let him try to get out of it himself, but she hadn’t. Vivi was actually watching his back. An unfamiliar feeling spread through his chest, and as the conversation turned, he smiled his thanks at Vivi. She nodded.

  Vivi was pulled away a moment later by her mother, and when the event finally broke up a little while later, Vivi was nowhere in sight. That irritated feeling returned. Could he have misread or misunderstood something? He didn’t like that idea.

  “Mr. Mansfield?”

  Connor turned to find a pretty hostess flashing a flirtatious smile at him.

  “You had a phone call earlier. A Miss White left a number for you to return her call.” She handed him a piece of paper and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “It’s strange. I think she said it was about piano lessons, but that just seems crazy considering…well, who you are.”

  Heat rushed to his groin at the mention of “piano lessons.” “Thanks. It makes sense to me.”

  He put his mother into a cab in almost unseemly haste, and started walking the six blocks back to the Quarter, dialing as he walked. Vivi answered on the second ring.

  “You are terrible, Connor Mansfield.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The gallery. I couldn’t stay at the brunch. Between Madeline Jensen’s upset that I wouldn’t let you play and the fact you seemed to be doing your best to embarrass me…”

  “That’s what you get for sneaking out before I woke up.”

  “I was hoping it would be less awkward that way.”

  Vivi didn’t seem to be feeling that awkwardness now. “And avoiding me?”

  “Self-preservation.”

  “You are hell on the ego, Vivi.”

  “I think your ego can handle it. So…” She trai
led off, and the silence was so complete he wondered if the call had been dropped. Then he heard her clear her throat. “So what happens now?”

  The awkwardness was back. He’d never heard her sound so hesitant. “I thought you wanted piano lessons.”

  There was another of those long silences, and Connor wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Then he heard her laugh softly.

  “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AT THE one-week mark he and Vivi had been running neck-and-neck in the fundraising. Well, once he counted his matching her funds plan, at least. Early in week two Vivi had pulled ahead by landing a couple of corporate sponsors on her side, but one message on Twitter pulled him back into the lead. That trick had earned him an earful from Vivi, but Vivi’s tongue had lost a bit of its sting these days.

  In a way he missed the battle of wills and wits, but while the tone had changed, Vivi still kept him on his toes. She was the first to call him on things, but also the first to give credit and accolades. She could be hell on his ego when she took him down a peg, but things were different now.

  When it came to the actual challenges, like today’s work for the food bank, Vivi was definitely kicking his butt. She could organize people like a pro, and her team always ran with easy efficiency while he looked like he was trying to herd cats.

  It was almost embarrassing, but he could take it. Everyone had their strengths and areas of expertise, and no one could touch Vivi when it came to any aspect of volunteer work.

  Two weeks ago he would have had something snarky to say about that, but now…He didn’t have to admit to grudging admiration for Vivi’s talents. He could just be impressed by them. Vivi was completely focused and no-nonsense, but she had a way of getting work and money out of people and leaving them thinking it was all their idea.

  Now, that was a talent. And, as he was discovering, Vivi had many interesting talents.