Free The Scandal and Carter O'Neill by Molly O'Keefe Page B

front page of the paper. And she wasn’t even the one that looked bad.
    Poor Carter.
    His pride must be sore this morning.
    She scooped up the phone and answered it as she walked into her bedroom and some privacy.
    “Hello,” she said, cool as a cucumber.
    “Zoe, it’s Carter.”
    “Good morning,” she said, channeling every aloof and distant receptionist she’d ever come across.
    “Zoe.” He sighed, and she heard the frustration in his voice, a certain weariness that pulled at her.
    Do not fall for that again, she told herself. This is a man you are fake dating. That’s it.
    “You’ve seen the paper?” he asked.
    She nodded then realized how stupid that was. “Yes,” she said. “I have.”
    “I didn’t know that photographer was there,” he said.
    “Really?” she asked, not at all cucumber-like. “He just happened to burst out from behind the bushes the moment we…kiss?” she whispered the last word, sure her mother was eavesdropping. Not that Penny didn’t know about the kiss; Zoe just didn’t want to talk about it with her mom listening.
    “I had no idea,” Carter said. “I promise.”
    Promise? she thought. Something about Carter making a promise to her seemed authentic. It wasn’t something he would do lightly.
    If it wasn’t a stunt, that meant the kiss was real. Genuine.
    And somehow that was worse. She didn’t know what to do with those feelings. There was no slot in her life for wanting to kiss Carter.
    “And if I really wanted to catch you in some kind of compromising position, it backfired—”
    “Terribly,” she agreed. Then, because the photo was so awful, and the situation so ridiculous, she started to laugh.
    “Are you laughing at me?” he asked.
    “Yep,” she said, and laughed some more. Some of that strange magic from last night lingered on her skin, the tips of her hair. She felt young and giddy.
    “It is a bad photo,” he admitted, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. “The worst!”
    She turned and sat on the edge of her bed and saw her mother standing in the doorway, her face cut into stern, unforgiving lines.
    Zoe’s laughter died in her throat.
    The magic vanished, and she felt like a teenager caught doing something wrong.
    She plucked at the knee of her yoga pants.
    “So?” she asked, terribly aware of her mother’s eyes, her judgment. Even more aware that her mother, standing there with all the experience of a single parent, was probably right.
    Zoe had no business worrying about Carter O’Neill’s promises. Or teasing him. She was going to have a baby in a few months; she needed to focus on that.
    “Are we done?” Zoe asked. “No more dates?”
    “Not yet,” he said. “I have to do a little more damage control after Deadbeat Daddy Denied.”
    She ignored the little zing of excitement, smothered it with all kinds of worry and anxiety. More fake dates. More photos. More hand-holding.
    “What…ah…what’s next?” She had no idea where mayor pro temps went on a second fake date.
    “The National Ballet is in town.”
    Oh, he was hitting her where it hurt. She would give her teeth to go see the ballet.
    “How about Wednesday evening,” he said. “We’ll get some dinner—”
    “No dinner,” she said. She had made Carter a promise, but her mother was right; dating right now, fake or not, was a distraction she didn’t need. If this was business, she would keep it business.
    “I’ll meet you there,” she said. Her mother made a disgusted noise and vanished from the doorway, leaving her alone in the sunny silence of her room.
    She cleared her throat, lowered her voice. “And no…no more kissing.”
    Carter was silent a long time and Zoe’s heart pounded in her ears. “I wanted to kiss you, Zoe,” he said, his voice gruff. “I didn’t fake it and I certainly never expected it.”
    “I know,” she said. Being noble sucked. “I didn’t, either, but…this relationship isn’t real and never could be, or would be if I