The Taming of a Wild Child(51)

Then the news that his family’s company had hit the Forbes list had spread through New Orleans like water from a broken levee. Figuring he was about to break through some invisible wall, he’d asked Penny to prom—only to be turned down flat and unceremoniously dumped.

All because she was too good for some “tacky nouveau riche social-climber.” It was the first time he’d heard the term, and he’d had to look it up. With that knowledge, his entire understanding of the world had shifted. Nothing would change the fact he wasn’t one of them. That invisible wall could not be broken through, and nor could it be climbed. It was actually better to be poor than nouveau riche.

It had been a hard-learned lesson, and one he’d been sure he would never forget.

Of course now it seemed he had forgotten that lesson, or else he’d have steered far and wide of Lorelei LaBlanc. And he probably would have except for large amounts of alcohol. The ramifications of that had shown him a bit of Lorelei he hadn’t expected.

And he’d lost sight of the obvious.





CHAPTER NINE


IT TOOK A SECOND for Donovan’s words to register fully, and by then he was out of the room. Lorelei had been wavering between anger and shame and guilt, but “Princess” took her straight into anger.

She hopped down off the counter and followed him into the living room. “You don’t get to throw a grenade like that and then walk away.”

“I just did, Lorelei. I’m done talking.”

A red haze clouded her vision and she forced herself not to yell. “Well, I’m not. You know, you’re not wrong—but you’re pretty damn far from right, too. Yes, I’m sneaking around, sleeping with a guy simply because the sex is good. No, my family and my friends would not approve of that. Yes, their approval is very important to me. I’m really freakin’ sorry that you don’t see that.”

“Oh, I see it. I just think you’re shallow for caring that much.”

“Shallow?” Oh, now she wanted to hit something. Namely him. “Wanting to spare the feelings of the people I love and respect makes me shallow? Showing respect for the society I was raised in, the traditions and the culture and the values that I was taught makes me shallow?”

“I’m well aware of the ‘traditions and the culture’ and the so-called ‘values’ you were taught. They are pretty damn shallow.”

“And you know this how, exactly?”

“Because they are. And the truth is you don’t actually think they’re important enough to really care about, either—you just want people to think you care.”

Something about that nagged at her. “I’m trying to build something here, trying to make something out of my life, and that’s not been easy.”

“Making something out of your life is an admirable thing.”

Finally. “Then why are you giving me grief over it?

“As I said, because you’re more worried about what people think of you than what you actually are.”

That nasty tone had her digging her nails into her palms as she forced her hands to stay at her sides. “So I should be like you and not give a damn at all what people think?”

Donovan shot her a look. “It works.”

She shot him one back. “Not as well as you think.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Being involved with you will horrify everyone I know. But it’s not because I’m ‘slumming,’ as you so tactlessly put it. I could bang the pool boy if I wanted to, and while everyone would tsk and shake their heads they’d get over it. It would just show poor judgment on my part, but that’s not a crime. The problem is you. Specifically. Not your family or your finances. You. You’re so damn smug. If anyone thinks they’re better than somebody else, it’s you.”

“You’re the one riding on the LaBlanc name.”

“And your name is sitting like a chip on your shoulder. You’ve figured out that your money can’t buy you class and respectability in some people’s eyes, so you just mock what you can’t have.”

Donovan’s eyes narrowed. She might be on to something here. Julie’s speech about “marrying up” came rushing back to her.

“That’s what bugs you about this, isn’t it? Even if you bag one of the LaBlanc girls, you still can’t get into the country club. Is that the problem? That even if I were willing to let you try, you couldn’t ride on my name for your gain? Feeling a bit resentful, are we?”

There was a tiny twitch that might have been guilt, but his voice was cold and sarcastic. “Join the rest of us in twenty-first century America, Lorelei. You aren’t some kind of European aristocrat.”