The Downfall of a Good Girl. Kimberly Lang

      “Problem, Vivi?”

      “Just surprised by your goatee. Lose your razor while you were on tour?”

      He rubbed a hand over it. “I thought it went with the costume. Maybe made me look a little devilish, you know.”

      “It’s as ridiculous as the pants,” she lied, and went back to her dinner. Connor looked devilish, dangerous, sexy and ready to steal a dozen female souls.

      And the women probably wouldn’t even put up much of a fight. Women loved Connor.

      Who was she kidding? Everyone loved Connor, praised his talents, celebrated his success. That was one of the reasons why everyone made such a big deal out of the fact that she didn’t.

      She wasn’t a hundred percent sure why or how it all started, but in the twenty-five years she’d known Connor she couldn’t remember a single time when he had not irritated her to the point of justifiable homicide.

      And it wasn’t like she was evil. She liked people. Connor was the only person on the planet who affected her in that way, and she dealt with all kinds of irritating people all the time. She was known for her people skills. Those skills just didn’t extend to cover annoying man-child rock stars.

      As he’d said, he was, literally, the boy next door. Their mothers were on twelve charitable committees together and did lunch twice a week. Their fathers played golf and did business together. She’d spent her whole life hearing about how great Connor was. Sometimes it was like their entire social circle existed merely to live in the shadow of his greatness. They were the same age, went to the same prep school, had many of the same friends, and folks had been pushing them at each other since puberty.

      It didn’t seem to matter to anyone that they didn’t like each other, and that Connor went out of his way to annoy her whenever possible.

      People were shallow. They let good looks and talent outweigh deep personality flaws.

      Or else she was just the lucky recipient of whatever the reverse of charm was. Connor didn’t care about much beyond his own universe—which he was the center of, of course—so it irked her no end that he’d been chosen this year to co-lead the fundraising drive. This was supposed to be about other people, but now it would be all about him.

      Losing the Saints and Sinners competition would suck regardless, but losing to Connor would just be more than her pride could stand.

      And pride was all that was keeping her in her seat at the moment. She’d need to draw on that pride to save her in the coming weeks.

      Conscientious eating kept her from having to make any kind of conversation, and she used the time to mentally flip through her Rolodex and plan out new strategies. She needed to think big—beyond just New Orleans. That would be tough, though, for most of the world had forgotten about the city once the Katrina news left the spotlight.

      She could involve her sorority for sure. Maybe she could go to the national level. Hell, she needed to get the whole Greek Council involved. All of her pageant connections, up to and including that former Miss Indiana, every favor she was owed was going to have to be called in. She needed to get creative, since all Connor had to do was smile and the money and the votes would pile up.

      Ugh. She’d spent weeks looking forward to this, hugging the secret to herself and looking forward to everything Saints and Sinners entailed. But now…All the joy and excitement had been sucked out of it. Her heart sank as she accepted the reality that, despite her efforts, she was probably going to lose through no fault of her own. That brief moment onstage when she’d congratulated herself for the accomplishment felt foolish now. They’d probably just picked her to add contrast and interest to Connor’s selection. She hated Connor just a little more.

      No. She gave herself a strong mental shake. She would not let Connor take that from her. She’d earned this title.

      And, while she might lose the competition, by God she was going to make it as close as possible. At least she’d keep her dignity and gain satisfaction for a job well done for a good cause.

      Dignity. Hmm…How was she going to keep her dignity through all of this?

      A wicked idea pinged and the more she thought about it, the better it sounded.

      She couldn’t control Connor or the contest, but she could control herself. She’d been chosen to be the Saint. She just needed to be saintly and gracious. In contrast, Connor would look like an arrogant schmuck and go slowly insane at the same time. It would be a small victory, but she’d take it nonetheless.

      She set her fork down carefully and reached for her wineglass. “Connor?”

      “Yes, Vivi?”

      She raised the glass in a toast, and Connor’s look turned wary. “To a good competitor and a good cause. I’m looking forward to the adventure, because the real winners are the people and the communities we’re going to help. I’m glad you came home to be a part of it.”

      Connor’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline in his shock, but he recovered quickly and picked up his glass. As he touched it to hers she heard a rumble skitter over the crowd, and there was a strobe of flashes. She put on her very best I’m-so-happy-to-be-first-runner-up smile.

      The look that crossed Connor’s face made it all worthwhile. This might be fun after all.

      It was certainly going to be satisfying.

      CHAPTER TWO

      IT WAS well after midnight by the time Vivi made it home. The clubs on Frenchman Street were going strong, and though it was January, the nights were mild enough that a sweatshirt provided enough warmth. All the tables on the sidewalks were packed. In some places the crowds spilled out into the street, and she had to slow almost to a crawl to avoid pedestrians the last few blocks before turning into her driveway. She’d grown up on the tree-lined quiet streets of the Garden District, so adjusting to the much more active nightlife of the Marigny Triangle had been difficult at first, but now she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Coming home always made her smile.

      Sam, her neighbor, was on his porch, drinking a beer and listening to the buskers in Washington Square. He waved and called out, “Congrats, Saint Vivi.”

      Lorelei had probably spread the news. “Thanks, Sam.” She should stop and talk for a few minutes, but she was exhausted, her head was pounding, and her cheeks ached from all the smiling. Plus, the straps from the harness that had held her wings on had chafed against her skin, irritating her almost as much as Connor.

      All she wanted to do was wash off the glitter and go to bed. She needed to be up early in the morning to work the phone lines. Another glass of wine was tempting, but sleep would work just as well against the Connor-induced headache.

      But, unsurprisingly, Lorelei had waited up for her. They hadn’t had much time at the Saints and Sinners Ball to talk beyond quick congratulations.

      “There she is,” Lorelei sang to a familiar tune. “Saint Vi-vi-enne.”

      Vivi obligingly did her pageant wave and wiped away an imaginary tear before dropping her purse and bags and sinking onto the couch next to Lorelei with a sigh.

      “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Vivi.”

      “It was top secret stuff. I found out just after Thanksgiving, so I’d have time to make the necessary arrangements to my schedule. It’s going to be really busy between now and Mardi Gras.”

      “We’re all so proud. Mama and Daddy were about to burst with it.”

      “I noticed. But I hope you’re rethinking your annual pledge of allegiance to the Sinners now. I’m counting on your support.”

      Lorelei crinkled her nose. “But the Sinners are much more fun.”

      “Don’t make me play the sister card.”

      “You