A Bad Boy is Good to Find (32 page)

Lizzie put the car into gear and pulled out of the space without stalling even once. “Yup, that’s Maisie, loves to be the center of attention.” Typical. Everyone in the bar had been drooling and falling all over her. Apparently, a glaze of mud only enhanced her Amazon appeal. “I’ll never hear the end of her alligator-wrestling adventure. I can’t believe Dwight didn’t try to stop her.”

“Do you think anyone could stop Maisie doing what she wants?” Con stretched and cracked his knuckles.

“Buckle your seatbelt.”

He smiled, eyes soft with affection or liquor or both. “I love it when you worry about me.” He obeyed with fumbling hands.

”I bet Danny let the alligator get loose on purpose just so he could have the fun of catching it again.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “He sure knows how to put on a good show. It’ll be a blast on TV.”

“That’s not what you were saying at the time. My arm still has white marks from you gripping it.”

“Hey, he’s my brother and I haven’t seen him for ten years. I didn’t want him to get eaten right after I found him again.”

“He’s quite a character. I guess it runs in the family.” She winked at Con, who winked back, causing a teeny sizzle in her belly.

“What is Maisie doing with that Dwight? He seems a real stick in the mud.”

“Dwight is from an old oil family. He’s well connected and very, very rich.”

“That may be, but he’s not man enough to handle Maisie.”

“And you’re suddenly an expert on the subject?” Driving strange unlit roads in the dark was rattling her nerves enough without Con having opinions about Maisie’s love life.

“I just know what I see. Maisie needs a real man.”

“You’re lucky she can’t hear you through that partition, she’d show you which one of you is the real man.”

Con laughed. “Too right.”

What a day! Con sprawled naked on the bed, too tipsy to try and keep his thoughts straight. Finding Danny again was the best thing to ever happen to him…right after meeting Lizzie, of course.

The lights were back on so he got to admire the vision of lovely Lizzie coming back in from the bathroom, her robe held closed with one hand.

“Get that off, cher.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I know. C’mere.”

He could see her fighting a smile as she slipped her robe off and slid under the covers with him. Her lush silky body felt like cloud nine up against his.

How would he propose to her? It would have to be something really special. A carriage ride? Nah, too ordinary. A hot-air balloon? Since the TV show could arrange it, the sky was truly the limit. But maybe something closer to home—a riverboat ride? Maybe even on Danny’s boat?

He squeezed her and couldn’t help a groan of pleasure as he grew hard against her soft belly.

He wouldn’t tell her the wedding was off. He’d propose to her, she’d accept, and they’d do the wedding in fine style, for real.

She’d say yes, he was sure of it. He’d seen her looking at him on the sly—those big eyes all wide and cautious. And when she screamed and got crazy when he was about to help with the gator…

She’d say yes
.

He buried his face in her glorious hair. It smelled of almonds, probably some stuff Raoul put in it, but perfectly beautiful, like the rest of her.

The house made it possible. It made him good enough for her. Here she could live in the style she was accustomed to, no stepping down in the world. They’d install new air-conditioning and update the kitchen. There were plenty of bedrooms for…

Get a hold of yourself Con! You have to propose first
.

“What are you laughing about?” Lizzie’s soft voice tickled his ear.

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you grinning like the Cheshire Cat?”

“The who?”

“Never mind. We need to get some sleep. You’re going to feel like hell in the morning.”

“I sure feel like I’m in heaven right now.” He tightened his arms around her and inhaled the womanly sweetness of her skin.

He was looking forward to doing this for the rest of his life.

Lizzie emerged from a long, cool morning shower to a gloriously silent house. Everyone was sleeping off last night’s bender and a big box of pastries had been delivered to the kitchen. She opened it and helped herself to a beignet loaded with powdered sugar. Mmmm.

Roger slept on the sofa in the “dressing room,” one long arm trailing on the floor near the boxes of linen napkins.

A creak from upstairs brought her to the foot of the curved staircase in time to see a rumpled Gia leaving Dino and Roger’s bedroom. So that’s why Roger was sleeping downstairs. She took another bite and smiled. Gia winked at her on her way into the bathroom.

Lizzie polished off her beignet and licked the sugar off her fingers. Time to find Raoul before the hair got out of control. Of course she could just pull it back in a ponytail like she’d have done back home, but since the electricity was back on, maybe they’d do the wedding today as originally planned?

A shot of mingled fear and excitement jolted her.

Do you take this man…?

Yes!

She didn’t think they’d get divorced either. She looked around the wide foyer, where the polished wood floors gleamed in the morning light. Maybe it was the way the sun streamed through the bright glass, or the easy warmth of the morning air, or all the hot sauce rolling around in her bloodstream, but she could see a clear vision of Con and herself living here…

Happily ever after
.

Deep breath.

She climbed the stairs, and pushed her rapidly tangling hair out of her eyes as she knocked on Raoul’s door. No answer.

“Raoul,” she whispered, not wanting to wake everyone else.

She turned the knob—unlocked—and pushed the door open.

And gasped.

There were two men in the bed. Not entangled in the throes of passion or anything, but just sleeping peacefully, dressed in PJ’s, one on each side. Raoul, and Dwight. One of them was snoring.

Dwight
?

Was this why he wouldn’t set the date? Because Maisie wasn’t exactly his… cup of tea?

She closed the door. Phew. Okay, time to find a ponytail band. Maisie was going to go ballistic.

Why did that give her a thrill?

Gia came out of the bathroom, toweling her short hair. She jumped when she saw Lizzie.

“Where’s Maisie?” Lizzie asked, biting her lip to keep from blabbing about what she’d just seen.

“Don’t know.” Gia had pale gray semicircles under her eyes. “I heard her going outside with Danny late last night. Don’t know if she came back in.”

This day was getting stranger and stranger.

“I’m just wondering what the schedule is today.” Lizzie pulled her hair back, trying to ignore the prickles of anticipation and anxiety.

To love and to cherish, from this day forth…

Gia rubbed her eyes. “I’m not sure. Since the wedding is off and it’s a Saturday I expect I’ll just be packing up the—”

“The wedding is
what
?” The words flew from her mouth.

“You know, cancelled.” Gia squinted against the light. “Since Con’s brother turned up and all that.”

“
What
?”

Lizzie stood there blinking. Blood rushed around her brain. “The wedding is
off
? Said who?”

“Maisie. Well, she told me. I thought it was something you’d all decided. It was Con’s idea to turn the focus of the show to his homecoming. More unusual and better for ratings and all that. You didn’t know?” Gia hitched her towel higher.

Lizzie’s chest heaved as she struggled for breath. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. She wheeled around and headed to her bedroom.

She threw the door open and it slammed against the wall. Con—sprawled on the bed stark naked—didn’t stir.

“Conroy Beale, wake up this instant!”

He grunted and turned over until he was facing away from her.

She stormed into the room, clapped her hand on his arm and shook him.

“Con! Wake up!”

He groaned. Ugh, she could smell alcohol fumes rising off him. “Wake up!”

He rolled onto his back again and held out his arms as if he expected her to fall into them.

As if
.

“You called off our wedding?” The screeching sound of her voice bounced off the windows.

That got his eyes open. But sunlight closed them again after a quick squint.

“What?” he croaked. He pulled his arm over his eyes.

“You cancelled our wedding, you bastard!”

He shifted up onto his elbows, squinting at her, one hand shielding his eyes. “Yeah, but… You don’t understand…” he mumbled. Then shook his head as if something heavy was clinging to it. “Ow.”

“I understand only too well, you scheming trickster. You get your big house and all your fancy cars, and now you’re ready to cut me right out of the deal!” Pain shot through her. It was all she could do not to pummel him with her fists.

“No, Lizzie, listen.” He winced, apparently in pain.
Good.
“You still get your money, all of it, I made a deal with Maisie—”

“You made a deal with Maisie!” The words tore from her throat, raw. “About the
money
? Everyone knows about this, absolutely everyone except me!”

“No, yes… I can explain—”

“I’ll just bet you can explain! You’ve always got a tall tale to tell—or not tell—when the occasion suits you. Well, I’ve heard enough of your filthy lies! I hate you! I wish I’d never met you and I hope you rot in hell!”

“Lizzie—” He reached out an arm to grab her and missed.

Before she could get suckered into anything by those dangerous dark eyes, she grabbed her wallet off the night table and fled.

Doors opened and faces stared as she thundered down the stairs, tears of rage and pain streaming down her face.

That bastard!

She shoved out the front door and ran to the Jeep, praying the key was in the ignition as usual.

Yes. She started it up, agony searing through her as the engine turned over and the car shuddered to life.

She’d been dreaming about their wedding being the real thing, and he didn’t even want to go through with the fake one! How could he do that to her? After all they’d been through? She let out a low animal sound of anger and despair that fought with the noisy Jeep engine as she burned rubber through that accursed avenue of live oaks.

A thin morning mist still hung around the road, filtering the sun as she pulled onto the main road.

He would never see her again. Of that he could be sure. If he tried, she’d kill him.

The car ate up the road as she tried to shove Con, and everyone she’d ever known, out of her thoughts.

He was just going with the flow to get his money. Stringing her along and sweetening her up. Planning all the while to cut her loose.

And like a complete idiot she’d fallen in love with him all over again.

Houma.

Grey.

Thibodaux.

She sped through strange towns. At first it was all she could do to focus her thoughts enough to stay in lane. But as the sun rose higher and the muggy heat kissed her skin, she started to breathe deeply.

Vacherie.

Sorrento.

Gonzales.

She worked hard to clear her mind. To figure out a strategy before the car ran out of gas and she had to try to get some with a maxed-out credit card.

Next exit Baton Rouge. She’d sell her Bulova watch and rent a motel room, lay low for a few days. Right now if she had to so much as look anyone in the eye she’d go right to pieces. But she’d had her heart crushed to a bloody pulp before and survived. She’d figure out where to go, find a design or PR job, get an apartment and start over again as if none of the past few months had ever happened. As if she was a completely different person than the downtrodden ex-heiress Lizzie Hathaway who’d be the butt of every joke when that damn television show came out.

It was all your idea
.

We all make mistakes. She lifted her chin. She’d made more than her share, and she’d make more before she was done, but she certainly wouldn’t be making any more that concerned a certain silver-tongued, sleek-muscled, dark-eyed con-man named—

Conroy Beale.

She blasted the horn, just for the hell of it. Damn him to hell! And his brother too and all the rest of them for lying to her and laughing at her and…

Tears blurred her eyes as she pulled off the main road into Baton Rouge.

This time she wasn’t going anywhere near any bottles of champagne.

She was all grim practical reality from now on. Shame she hadn’t made Con pay her for the spray-paint job on the Corvette. Probably worth a few hundred dollars that would come in handy right now.

And people thought she had no survival skills and no talents of her own? Ha! She’d show them. She didn’t need any of them and she’d prove it. She’d pay off all her credit card bills by herself and start over. Maybe she’d even change her name—you could do that without making the horrible mistake of marrying a man, something she didn’t intend to do—ever.

Maisie couldn’t seem to open her eyes. There was a heavy weight on her chest and something scratchy underneath her.

And something was ringing.

Her cell phone.

Her eyes popped open, then snapped shut under siege by sun knifing through the curtain of Spanish moss overhead.

The heavy weight on her chest was a large human arm, brown skin dusted with little blonde hairs sprinkled over a large circular symbol inked in bluish lines.

Her head hurt.

“My cell, where is it?” she rasped.

“S’up sugar?” The heavy weight lifted a little, and a larger mass next to her shifted.

“It must be around here somewhere, I can hear it.” She hissed a curse as the ringing stopped.

It was grass tickling her back. That nasty dry prickly stuff they had down here. She groped around in it as the ringing started up again. Almost as soon as her fingernails tapped on the hard casing she flipped it open.

“Hello?” She sat up, realizing she was totally naked, the skin on her belly creased by the heavy weight of Danny’s arm.