The Taming of a Wild Child (13 page)

Not a quote. A paraphrase. And fair use
=
no cash
.

“Donovan’s texting at the table!”

“You’re supposed to be setting an example, Donovan,” his mother scolded.

“Sorry, Mom.” He hit Send as he put the phone back in his pocket. Then he turned to his niece and said quietly, “It’s not wise to rat out an uncle who is bigger than you.
Especially
when he knows exactly how the whole ‘The Paint, The Puppy and The Living Room Carpet’ debacle actually went down.”

Sarah, who was only seven but nobody’s fool, nodded soberly. “Sorry.” Eyes wide, she turned to her mother, Matt’s wife Tara, and whispered, “Can I be excused now?”

“Yes, go.” Tara sighed. “In fact, why don’t you all go play now?”

Children bolted from the table, and the noise level in the room dropped several decibels.

Tara moved to a now-empty chair next to him and leaned back with a smile. “Ah, that’s much better. By the
way, she’s seven. She probably doesn’t know the meaning of the word
debacle
.”

“She got my point, though.”

“And that threat will only work until she gets old enough to figure out that I also know how it
actually
happened.” Tara took a sip of her water, then grinned at him in a way that put him instantly on alert. “Speaking of things that I know—”

“That you
think
you know,” he corrected. There was no way she knew the true origin of that paint.

“I was with some friends at that coffee house down from your place the other night. As we were leaving, I saw you letting a woman into your house. Normally I’d assume it was a new assistant, or the cleaning lady or something, but it was pretty late for that. And you seemed to greet her rather
un
professionally.”

The rest of the St. James bloodline at the other end of the table was in animated discussion about the cost-effectiveness of longer internet spots, so there was no escape there.
Non-committal is always a safe bet
. “Hmm.”

Tara leaned forward and braced her arms on the table. “Oh, come on. Who is she? It was dark, so I couldn’t see her face.”

“A friend.”

“And does this friend have a name?”

“Of course.”

“Do you
know
it?” she challenged.

“First, middle
and
last.”

That earned him a frown. “But you don’t want to tell me any of them?”

“Not really, no.”

Tara sat back with a huff. “Anyone ever tell you that you can be a jerk sometimes?”

He wanted to laugh, but kept it in. “Now that you mention it, yes.”
And a conceited blow-hard, too
.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with her or something?”

“Not at all. I just prefer keeping this private for the moment.”

Tara shot a look down the table. “I won’t tell your mother, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Mom is quite happy with the grandchildren she has at the moment. She’s not on my back to settle down and procreate anytime soon.”

“Wow …”
Tara managed to stretch the word into four syllables.

“What?”

“Are you implying that this is the type of woman that you’d
want
to settle down and procreate with?”

Good Lord
. “I’m not implying anything.
You
are jumping way ahead.”

“Well, you’re not giving me much to go on. I
have
to make jumps.”

“I have made a friend whose company I enjoy. She seems to enjoy mine. That’s all.”

Tara’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re not
paying
for her time and companionship, are you?”

He laughed. Lorelei would
not
like to hear she’d been accused of prostitution. “She’s not a call girl, Tara. She’s a friend.”

“Sorry. It had to be asked.”

“Why?”

“Because you normally don’t have female friends. You have dates.
Rendezvous
. Affairs. Maybe the occasional fling. But a ‘friend?’ I’m not buying that. Anyway, if she really were
just
a friend you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

Tara was right—or at least partially right. How had Matt ended up with a woman that astute? “Just give me
some time. See how it shapes up. If it’s nothing, then there’s no reason to bring anyone else into it.” Tara did not look satisfied, so he threw out a promise to make her happy. “I promise that if the situation changes, you’ll be one of the very first to know.”

“You could just bring her to dinner soon so we can all meet her. Just as a friend. No pressure.” At his look, she added primly, “Friends very often meet each other’s families, you know. And a meal is quite a friendly thing.”

That might not go over as well as one would hope
. “I don’t think Lorelei’s quite ready for the full-frontal impact of a St. James family dinner.”

“
Lorelei
, huh?” Tara smiled. “That’s a pretty name.”

Damn
.

“It’s unusual, too. You don’t hear it all that often. I did go to school with a Lorelei years ago … Wait … No, she was a Lora Lee. Of course there’s Lorelei LaBlanc—”

“More wine?” he interrupted.

Tara waved the offer away. “I’m good, thanks. I’ve never met her—Lorelei LaBlanc, that is—but I talked to her on the phone sometime back in the spring, when my company submitted a proposal to do the refurb on Connor Mansfield’s new studio. Really nice person. But you’ve met her, of course. At the wed—” Tara stopped suddenly and her eyes grew wide.
“Oh …”
Once again one small word was stretched out into multiple syllables.

“What?”

Tara leaned in and dropped her voice. “Lorelei LaBlanc was the woman I saw at your house, wasn’t it? I couldn’t see her face, but size and hair and such all match up.”

He didn’t want to flat-out lie with a denial, but distraction and distortion might work. “I don’t—”

“Oh. My.
God
. That reporter was right. We just all kind of laughed it off, even after she came by the offices, but …”

Thankfully no one else at the table had keyed in on their conversation yet. “Please let it go.”

Tara dropped her voice to a whisper. “How long has this been going on?”

“Really, now. Do I have to beg?”

Her lips twitched. “Now that you mention it, that might be fun to watch. No wonder you’re trying to keep it quiet. Her mother must be having a cow.”

That would be the kindest of responses. “I don’t think her family is any more aware of me than mine is—or
was
and hopefully will
continue
to be—of her.”

“People are bound to find out, you know. Why the big secret?”

“Because it’s nobody’s business.”

Tara nodded. “Fine. My lips are sealed. You like her, though, don’t you?”

“I told you, she’s a friend.”

He was not doing a good job of selling Tara on the “friend” point. She wasn’t even trying to hold back her grin. “Okay. Whatever. I just never pegged you as a social climber.” She reached for her glass. “Planning on world domination now?”

He couldn’t make the jump. “Excuse me?”

“I think it’s called ‘marrying well.’ The LaBlancs are one of the oldest families in New Orleans. They have serious clout. You have money.” Tara’s son Jacob had toddled back into the room and skirted the table to his mother. Without even pausing, she settled him into her lap. “And you’re famous already. You have some influence. But if you marry a LaBlanc you’ll be simply unstoppable.”

“First, I had no idea you were so Machiavellian—but you forget that I’m persona non grata in those circles, money or not.”

“Why is that?”

“Between my lack of pedigree and the fact I brought down not one but two of the most powerful families in New Orleans, I’d think you’d see the problem.”

Tara just waved that away. “One is not your fault and has no bearing on the kind of man you are and the other was no less than they deserved.”

“Regardless, you’ve jumped way ahead again.”

Tara grinned. “But it got you thinking, didn’t it?” Tara turned to the small child tugging at her arm. “What, sweetheart?”

He whispered something behind a small, chubby hand and Tara nodded. “Excuse me.” She scooped him up and sat him on her hip as she went into the next room.

Small children were quite useful as interruptions of conversations, and Donovan exhaled with relief at the reprieve. Pity Jacob hadn’t had better timing. He could have saved Donovan a few uncomfortable moments.

So much for being discreet
. If his sister-in-law had seen Lorelei at his house, how many other people had, too? Lorelei wasn’t exactly low-profile. Half the people in the city could probably recognize her on sight; Lorelei made the papers because she was always where the cameras were. Plus, Lorelei had been in the papers a lot in the last six months or so: Vivi had become paparazzi bait the moment she’d hooked up with Connor, and Lorelei was often where they were—the Pippa to Vivi’s Kate.

Honestly, he’d kind of forgotten why they were being so discreet. The one-night stand had been extended into a longer thing, but they’d stayed with the general premise of keeping their one-night stand under the radar. But why? They were both adults. It wasn’t as if they had anything to hide. The local papers might have a bit of fun with another local celebrity-ish couple, but neither he nor Lorelei
were nearly as high-profile as Connor and Vivi—or any of the dozen other celebrities that called New Orleans home.

His phone vibrated again. Lorelei had finally texted him back:
Who said I wanted cash? We can work it out in trade.;-)

That caused him to laugh. The status quo was serving him—and Lorelei, too—quite nicely at the moment. Lorelei was making the most of her time out of Vivi’s shadow. She didn’t need gossip or speculation on her love life becoming
another
shadow.

And him? He had no real plans for world domination—at least not plans that required Lorelei’s influence for him to achieve them. He was climbing that hill quite nicely on his own. And he rather liked it that way.

Lorelei seemed okay with that, too.

Why mess with something that was working just fine?

As a kid he’d seen the LaBlanc family and others like them—the Morgans, the Mansfields and the Allisons—as golden and lucky. He’d thought that money was the only key needed for entry into that enclave, but he’d been proven wrong very quickly. His family’s money had taken him from zero to hero overnight—but it hadn’t brought membership into that particular circle of society. Eventually he’d convinced himself that it didn’t matter and that he didn’t want it. Tara’s words had brought the remembrance of that feeling back.

But things were different now. He wasn’t some kid just realizing his place on the food chain for the first time. He didn’t care what the Morgans, the Mansfields, the Allisons or the LaBlancs thought about him. Well, except for one LaBlanc.

Lorelei was different. This situation was different. He didn’t know why or how, but it was. And while it probably would never be more than just this, he was fine with that.

Tara kept giving him knowing looks the rest of the evening, and he’d swear at one point his other sister-in-law, Mary, was giving him one, too. He hoped it was paranoia and not that Tara was sharing her new-found information.

His phone vibrated again.

Can you meet me tonight around ten? Your place? I’ve got big news!

When Lorelei had left last night she’d said she probably wouldn’t be able to see him tonight as she needed to put in some quality time with her parents. Whatever this big news was, she was obviously excited about it. He glanced at the time and texted her back that he would.

When Matt asked if he wanted to do a brotherly night out to a local club where a friend of theirs was playing, Donovan claimed he had an early meeting the next day. He caught Tara’s smirk out of the corner of his eye.

Tara was probably right. If he and Lorelei kept this up eventually someone would see them. It would get out.

And Lorelei’s mother would not be the only person in New Orleans to have a cow when
that
happened.

Lorelei navigated the tiny alley behind Donovan’s house and pulled in behind his car. She was late, but she just hadn’t been able to escape her mother gracefully, having to finally resort to a claim of a headache in order to get out of there. She must be getting better at lying, though, because her mother hadn’t batted an eyelash about it.

She rang the bell, but instead of releasing the lock, Donovan spoke over the intercom. “Can I help you?”

“It’s me.”

“You’re late, you know.”

Cheeky thing
. “If you check your phone,” she said carefully, “you’ll see that I at least sent you a text letting you know.”

A second later the lock on the gate was released. Donovan was waiting for her by the French doors.

“You big jerk.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

Lorelei shook her head. He was just too cute to stay peevish at, and she was just a sucker. When he stepped back to let her in she noticed that there was a champagne bucket and two glasses on the coffee table. “Wow.”

“Well, you said it was big news. I figured we might need it.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“I thought I was a big jerk?”

“You’re that, too.”

Donovan popped the cork and poured two glasses. “Whatever it is, congratulations,” he toasted. After she drank, he motioned her to the couch. “So, what’s the big news?”

“You know my dad is retiring, right?” She waited for him to nod. “His partners and some other folks he’s done business with over the years are throwing him this huge retirement bash. They’ve been working on the plans for like a month. So, tonight Mom and Dad tell me that they need to get the agenda finalized and, long story short, Dad asks me to make a toast.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

Her grin felt as if it was about to split her face. “Thanks. I mean, I’ve had so many great things happen recently—new opportunities opening up and all—but this … This is actually probably the best thing of all. There are so many people that he could have asked, but he asked
me
. Me! Can you believe that?”