The Downfall of a Good Girl by Kimberly Lang Read Free Book Online

spoke rapidly, with relief dripping off her words, and she had the door open before the car came to a complete stop in front of the studio. “I’m going to run in and freshen up real quick before we go on air.” Then she bolted for the building like the hounds of hell were on her heels.
    Honestly, he didn’t blame her at all.
    Vivi needed to splash cold water on her face, but that would only make her mascara run and then she’d look like a raccoon during the interview. She settled for wetting a paper towel and running it over her neck and under the collar of her shirt to cool her skin.
    Checking under the stall doors for feet and seeing none, Vivi let her breath out in a deep sigh and braced her hands on the counter.
    Sweet mercy
.
    I was in his lap
.
    And his hand was…
    And the other was…
    Oh, she knew exactly where each hand had landed. She felt branded from the touch.
    His hands weren’t the only part of him that had burnedinto her skin. Her butt had…He’d…
She’d…
Dear heaven, she couldn’t have landed in that exact position if she’d tried.
    Mortified wasn’t a strong enough word.
    Maybe if she hadn’t been ogling him just seconds before she might not now feel like she’d intentionally given him a lap dance.
    That
was bad enough, but worse was the realization that for a split second she’d enjoyed the embrace.
    And so did he
, a little voice said. The evidence had been impossible to miss.
    But then she’d fluttered and stammered and…
Ugh
. She’d seen that look: he
knew
. And with his ego…
    Her quick wish that the floor would open and swallow her went ungranted. Instead she dug for a comb and tried to repair the damage she’d done to her hair with her fingers earlier. After a critical look, she shrugged and let it go at presentable. Hopefully that flush would fade before they went on camera, but considering she was going to have to face Connor, she’d probably look like a ripe tomato all through the interview.
    Connor was a hottie, but she was immune. She was not so shallow as to allow good looks and an amazing body sway her. She liked men with substance.
    Somebody tell that to my libido
.
    “Vivienne?” A young woman poked her head around the door. “If you’re ready, we really need to get you miked.”
    “Coming.” Vivi checked her teeth for lipstick in a last-ditch stall for time, but she really had no choice but to follow the woman out into the hallway.
    Connor stood about twenty feet away by the studio door, autographing a CD case. He handed it and the pen back to the waiting fan, then smiled as a third person snapped a photo. He looked up as the woman shooed the other two away. His eyes met Vivi’s briefly before he looked away.
    Great. Now I can add uncomfortable sexual tension to this nightmare
. And while Connor had plenty of fans who wanted to meet him, talk to him, get his autograph or generally just slobber all over him, she didn’t have anything or anyone to distract
her
. She had no choice but to stand there feeling foolish as Connor charmed and dazzled them all.
    It might not be so bad if she hadn’t just realized—even if only for a second—that she was just as prone to simpering and flustering as the women basking in his charm right now.
    No, that was embarrassing, and knowledge she wished she didn’t have, but that wasn’t completely it. Facing that unhappy truth just seemed to open the gate to other, far more disturbing truths.
    Mainly that Connor’s life was taking off and hers had already plateaued.
    Art galleries in New Orleans weren’t nearly as interesting as concert tours and celebrity-studded parties in Los Angeles. She’d done dozens of interviews at this station before, but all for various charities, and everyone knew her story already.
    Connor was exciting and interesting and she felt every bit the washed-up beauty queen whose fifteen minutes were over. At twenty-eight she’d already peaked, and was now just another socialite doing the rounds