The Saint by Molly O'Keefe

Author:Molly O'Keefe [O’Keefe, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Molly Fader

11

ZOE

* * *

It was impossible to make a graceful exit when saddled with too-big stripper shoes. Just outside the glass-and-marble lobby of the Hilton I tripped on the edge of my dress, and the shoe slipped right off my foot.

“Cinderella.”

Carter came up behind me and my whole body, already electrified by the night’s success, went into overload at the sight of him.

All hands on deck, my hormones screamed.

This man is too much, I tried to tell myself. Too unpredictable. Too hot and cold. He’s not right for you. For any reason.

But he held my shoe, which looked totally ridiculous in his hand, and when I reached for it, he pulled it back.

“Let me,” he said, and before I could stop him, he was crouched in front of me, brushing aside my dress, lifting my foot.

I put quivering fingertips on his shoulder.

It was the most intimate thing I’d ever felt. Ever been a part of.

His fingers on my ankles, brushing my toes, sent pulses of light and heat under my skin. As I watched, numb, all of my anger, every bit of confusion, was eradicated by the sight of him on his knee in front of me, concentrating on my ankle strap.

Without the confusion or anger, all that was left was desire. And it was a storm in me, growing out of control.

“I don’t think Cinderella’s shoes were this complicated,” he joked, working the tiny strap at my ankle.

“They were glass slippers,” I said, staring up at the stars wishing a lightning bolt would just come down and take me out of my misery. “They had their own problems.”

“These don’t even fit you.”

“They belong to a drag queen,” I blurted.

“Oh.” His finger trailed up my instep as he stood, leaving fireflies dancing along my spine, the nape of my neck. “That explains it then.”

His smile was so sweet. Tender. As if the scene in the ballroom with the dealer had never happened. Suddenly I couldn’t stand it, the way my body stayed warm for this man, no matter what he did.

He was close, so close that I could lean against him and all that heat would be mine. All that electricity would blast through me, obliterating my better sense, my concerns and doubts.

I could just feel. For the first time in a year, I could lean back into a man’s arms and just feel.

The temptation was intense, like standing in front of a blast furnace in a fur coat.

But I took a step away, refusing to follow his lure like some dumb fish, attracted to shiny objects. I was better than that.

“Who is she?” I asked. “The dealer.”

Carter’s face turned to stone, and I knew that if he didn’t answer me, I’d leave and never think of him again. Never want him. Never dream of his hands and those lips—ever again.

This ill-conceived affair would be over before it really began.

“My mother,” he breathed.

Shock rippled through me. It was hard, actually, not to laugh in sheer nervous reaction.

“Your mo—” Carter put his finger against my lips, a touch that gathered and pulled between my legs.

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