The Saint (Notorious 3) - Page 15

“If you really cared, Carter, you’d come see her.”

It was a direct hit, and my body stung with shame that quickly fizzed and exploded to anger. My life wasn’t that simple. Had never been that simple. From the moment Savannah came into this world I’d been protecting her, watching over her, doing everything in my goddamned power to make sure that her life was that simple.

I turned and hammered on Zoe’s door, using the side of my fist.

“I’ll call you soon,” I said, and hammered again. What was taking Zoe so long? I wondered. She lived in like a one-room loft.

“Think about Christmas,” Savannah said, subdued, as if she knew she’d pushed too hard.

“I will,” I said, and heard the door behind me rattle, the chain lock being lifted. “Gotta run.”

I felt the door give and I turned, dropping my phone in my pocket. “Good God, Zoe, it took you—”

The world narrowed down to one color. One hot pink blast of color that seared my eyes, harpooned my brain. There was no other color like it. Ever. In my life.

“—long enough,” I finished lamely. The color belonged to a dress, a short one and I couldn’t believe it, but Zoe the pregnant elf had legs that hit the ceiling and met the floor in a pair of heels that made my heart pound in my crotch.

“Hi,” she said, and I jerked my eyes up to hers. They were smiling, the green depths aglow with a feminine confidence that zinged through my blood stream. She knew she looked good.

The desire was a huge surprise. An unwelcome one, like being cut off at the knees.

“Hello” I answered, trying to cool myself down, pull myself away from the magnetic allure of her.

Of that damn dress.

“Ah…” She blinked, her confidence crumpling slightly. “Give me one more second.” She swirled a finger around her face.

I nodded and she trotted off to a dark corner of her loft, leaving me in the dimly lit doorway. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. She had lamps everywhere, some covered by scarves, casting a rosy glow over the wood floors and high white walls.

She was a candle person, I just knew it.

“So,” she yelled, “did you come in the back?”

“Nope,” I answered, picking up a framed photograph of a young girl in a sequined dance costume, her smile revealing two missing front teeth.

Zoe, I could tell by the eyes. The exuberance with which the girl smiled, like her whole body was required to do it right.

“Were the photographers still there?” she asked, ducking her head out a doorway. She was using some kind of contraption on her eyelids, a cage or something.

“Yes,” I said.

“They were gone when I came home tonight,” she said.

“Because they were following me,” I said, having spent the day feeling like Britney Spears.

She grimaced. “That’s no fun.”

I nearly laughed at her understatement. Nothing about this was fun, except maybe looking at her legs.

“All right,” she said, stepping into the hallway. She grabbed a tiny pea-green bag off a small table and emerged from the shadows. “I’m ready for steak.”

She was lovely, more than lovely, really. She was like a rare creature. All eyes and legs and lips. Her black hair shone like an oil slick, and her skin glowed as if there were a candle burning inside her.

If this were a real date, I’d say something now. Kiss her hand and breathe a compliment across her skin. Truthfully, if this were a real date I’d back her into those shadows and up against a wall and I’d explore the secrets of those endless legs. Thinking about it, my fingers twitched. My pulse hitched.

But this wasn’t a date, and this woman was doing a number on my reputation and future political career.

“Good,” I said, brusquely, holding open the door for her. “Bring a coat. It’s raining.”

We went down the stairs and in the main hallway she turned left to head for the back door but I stopped her. “We’re going out the front.”

She leaned out of the corridor, looking at the small crowd of photographers visible through the safety glass door.

“Really?” she asked, clearly hesitant.

“It’s sort of the point.”

“But—” she licked her lips, her fingers fluttering over her belly “—can’t we go slow or something?” she asked. “Ease into it?”

I shook my head, but faced by her nerves and beauty I found myself weakening. I took her hand where it rested against the swell of her stomach. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help briefly noticing the taut warmth of that belly.

A baby, I thought. There’s a baby in there.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said. “Just smile.”

She didn’t smile. Didn’t joke. I realized she was really rattled. “You okay?” I asked, stroking the chilled skin of her wrist.

“Tell me something,” she said. “Anything. About yourself.”

Tags: Molly O'Keefe Notorious Romance
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