A Bad Boy is Good to Find (7 page)

He stared up at the mountains again. “I’m not capable of love. Maybe I was once, but that part of me is dead. I’m not really capable of anything other than survival.”

“My, how dramatic. If you’re such an emotional robot you hide it well. You did a bang-up job pretending to care about me.”

He looked at her. “I do care about you.”

She squinted at him. The sun hurt her eyes, and his words hurt her heart. She didn’t believe them.

Didn’t believe anything anymore.

He held out his hand again and she fought a mad urge to take it, just to steady herself.

“I’m here to teach you how to survive too.”

“Oh, great. Maybe you can show me how to change the oil in your car and I can get a job at Jiffy Lube. I have a college degree and three years of experience. I think I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“That’s the attitude I was hoping for.” He moved and sunlight hit his face, lighting up a smile. “When you took off, I didn’t plan to chase you down. I figured you wouldn’t want me to. But I kept close tabs on you and after a while I could see you needed a friend. How does your head feel?”

“Don’t keep asking about my head. I’m trying to forget it’s there.” It didn’t hurt any more, but the clarity was agonizing. Everything clear, crisp and sharp, the landscape, the cloudless sky, her sense of loss.

All that blue emptiness made her reckless. “So if you weren’t planning to leave, would you have…” She stopped herself. Took a deep breath. The chasm gaped, dark in front of her. She turned to stare at him. “Would you have married me that Friday, just like we planned?”

“Yes. I made a promise to you.”

The sun flashed and the sand seemed to shift under her feet. Did she hear him right? He grabbed her arm as she stumbled back, trying to figure out the meaning of what he said.

“You really would have married me?” The words drifted out of her mouth, toneless.

“Yes. I’ll marry you today, if that’s what you want.”

His strong hand held her arm fast. Reassuring. Kept her up while the world tilted under her. He held her gaze with resolute dark eyes and a hard-set jaw.

“That’s not what I want.” She managed to spit out the words. “Not at all.”

Something painful rose in her throat, and the next thing she knew Con’s arms were around her, her head on his chest as her tears wet his shirt.

He was willing to give up his freedom and marry her.

Not because he loved her.

Because he pitied her
.

She couldn’t stop the choking sobs that hurt her throat or the tears that dripped from her chin. His hand rubbed her back, caressed her shoulders. “Shhh,” he whispered. But she couldn’t.

She looked at him through her tears and saw the face that was the embodiment of all her dreams of Happily Ever After. She’d had no doubts. No fears. He was perfect and they’d live an enchanted life.

The world doesn’t work the way you think it does
.

Her chest hurt.

“Come on, you’ll feel much better if you…”

She never knew what he was about to suggest because her mouth closed over his and silenced his tongue with hers. Their lips met with a breathtaking explosion of chemistry. Her hands roamed over his face, into his hair, along his powerful neck and into the collar of his shirt. The hot sun and the feral scent of his hot skin made thoughts evaporate before they could form. She untucked the back of his shirt and slid her fingers under it, traced the straight line of his spine and dug her fingertips into hard muscle.

He shifted his hips, pushed his body against hers so she could feel his arousal. Instant, like her own. She pressed her breasts to his chest, nipples straining her bra. His cupped hand on her buttock lifted her, deepened their kiss. He ground his hips against her, and she pushed back, harder.

She sat on top so he was the one lying in the dirt. She kept her eyes open, watched his face as she increased the rhythm and intensity and took them both to the quivering edge.

His hands explored her body with that familiar touch that felt like a celebration of every inch of skin, every curve. Soft groans tickled her ears as she leaned to lick his closed eyelids, graze his neck with her teeth. She had to struggle to keep her head, not go adrift in arms that felt so loving.

He never opened his eyes. Trust? Or because he didn’t want to see her? Wanted to imagine she was someone else the way he pretended he was?

She sensed his climax coming with a thrill of power. She’d never stayed so detached during sex. She discovered she could enjoy the pleasure but not lose herself in it. Keep emotion tightly buttoned down as sensation surged to her toes.

As Con came, hard, with a low animal sound and his eyes squeezed tight, she faked her own orgasm. Loud breathing, a high pitched moan. Her eyes open the whole time.

She’d never done that before. Could he tell? If so he didn’t say. This was the new Lizzie, the one she planned to forge herself into. The one who knew how the world worked and played it her way.

The one who could rip arrows out of her chest and throw them on the ground without feeling anything like the agony ripping through her right now.

She climbed off him, her hands trembling.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She put her pants back on. Con was one of those supposedly rare men who actually like to cuddle and caress after sex. He loved nothing more than being entangled under warm sheets, snoozing, whispering and hugging. If anything she’d say he was more blissed out by that than by the act itself.

But she’d show him what he could do with his pity.

She inhaled a shaky breath. She wouldn’t have guessed she was capable of enduring this much pain, but here she was, still alive.

What else was she capable of? She intended to find out, and Con would learn too—the hard way.

Chapter 6

L
izzie squinted in the sun, keeping her distance from the edge of the canyon. “So, what is that thing on your butt?” She stared at the tattoo as it disappeared into a pair of neatly pressed pants. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply. Probably had a deal with the Devil that banished wrinkles from his wardrobe.

“A flaming dagger.” He pulled a gleaming white shirt from his bag and shook it out.

“A gang tattoo?”

“Kind of. Protective coloration.”

“On your butt?”

“It’s a long story. Better there than on my face, right?”

“Was that before or after you went to reform school?” She dragged out the last two words. Con didn’t look at all ruffled. He whipped out a comb and slicked back his hair.

“During.”

“Must have been a nice place.”

“Very educational, let’s put it that way.”

“Is that where you learned how to lie, cheat and steal?”

Now he looked hurt. He tucked the comb back in his bag. “I didn’t do any of those things.”

“You told me that tattoo was a family crest. That’s not a lie?”

“A gang is a kind of family.” The half-smile that crept across his face let her know he didn’t think he was fooling anyone.

“Don’t snow me with semantics, please. I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid. How did you end up in reform school anyway?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Everything’s a long story with you. I’d like to actually hear one of them.”

“Maybe another time.”

He zipped up his bag. Slipped his bare feet into dusty dress shoes. Apparently today the illusion only extended to his ankles. “You hungry?”

“No. Do you have any plans beyond feeding me back to my fighting weight?” Her hostile tone began to grate even on her nerves. “Damn, being a bitch is exhausting. If I lighten up a little, don’t take it personally.”

Con’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll try not to. Come sit down, get out of the sun for a while.”

He’d put the top up on the car and the passenger seat beckoned. Her fake tan didn’t give much protection from the blistering Arizona sun. Underneath it she was already freckling. “Alright.”

Con climbed into the driver side and they sat there, side by side, inches from each other. She could smell his sweat and the scent of sex. A crisp white shirt couldn’t hide everything. Strong, brown hands rested on his knees.

She shifted her attention to the big brown desert out there. “So, tell me, Con. Have you ever been really happy?”

“Sure. I can honestly say I’ve never been happier than when I was with you.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to ignore an odd flutter in her chest. “I mean when you weren’t living a charade.” She turned to stare at him. “Or have you been acting some kind of role since the day you were born?”

His chin kicked up, like she’d clocked him on it. Not such a bad idea. Then again, if anything, the little bump she’d added to his nose made his profile more distinguished.

“I guess you could say I have been pretending things were different for most of my life. Not because I wanted to…” His voice trailed off and he turned those soulful brown eyes on her.

“Maybe I should give that philosophy a try. Mmm, who do I wish to be? Let me see…” She drummed a finger on the dashboard. Turned her eyes on him with an intense stare. “I’d like to be me. The way I was before I met you, before my nearest and dearest bled me dry and left my bones out to bleach in the sun.” Her throat seized up as she spit out the words.

“Were you really happy?”

“Of course not! But no one is really happy. We figure out a treadmill to run on, and we keep running. I had a pretty good situation back then. It sure beat being a penniless dupe who’s lost all faith in herself and others!”

She stared at him, her face heating.

“You were happy with me.” He said it so quietly that she thought she might have imagined it. “Maybe living in a world of illusion isn’t such a bad thing?”

His soft voice and steady brown-eyed gaze threatened her barricades. She shored them up by wondering what else he might be hiding from her. “Apparently you’re still living there. I already know you’re a garage mechanic with a juvenile record and maybe an eighth-grade education, but you’re dressed like a stockbroker. Who are you trying to fool? Yourself?”

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and a glint of humor covered the pain she saw there. “Maybe.” A slight smile played across his lips and an odd sensation crept up her spine.

“Well, I guess if you’ve got even yourself fooled, you must really be good.”

Silence shimmered between them like the desert heat.

She fidgeted in her seat, uncomfortable, battling a sudden urge to take his hand and hold it. To be nice to him. “Can we drive somewhere? All this sitting still is reminding me how my life is going nowhere fast.”

Con started the engine. “You’re a cool chick, Lizzie. You know, I think I like you even more now you’re showing your dark side.”

“That makes two of us. Where’s my lipstick?”

“I think you put it in the glove compartment.”

She fished it out and applied a thick smear of frosted plum. Checked the results in the side mirror and finger-fixed her smudged eyeliner. She even looked like a bitch with all this makeup on. Maybe there was something to be said for dressing the part.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you like.” He looked downright cheerful.

“I like a town. With people in it. All this emptiness is creeping me out.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Con carried their bags as they walked into the glittering marble lobby of the Desert Palm Hotel in Phoenix. He’d muttered about it looking expensive. She’d laughed. What did he expect? He was escorting Lizzie Hathaway, accustomed to only the best. She wouldn’t need to give him the slip. He’d be begging her to get lost by the time she was done.

“My fiancé and I would like a room,” she said in a syrupy voice. “Do you have a bridal suite?” She turned and gave him a loving look. He shot her back an equally fake smile.

“We certainly do.” The receptionist beamed. “And you’re in luck, it’s vacant. It has a lovely view of the Phoenix skyline. Would you like to hear the rates?”

“I’m sure whatever you’re charging will be fine. Won’t it, sweetie?”

“Sure,” said Con tonelessly.

“Your name?” The receptionist’s smile stretched across her face in a crimson arc. Lizzie widened her own to match.

“Lizzie Hathaway.”

“Lizzie Hathaway…” She wrote it in a log. “I recognize you! Your picture was in the paper after that party at the Coco Club a couple of weeks ago.”

It was?
Apparently she’d lost a day or two somewhere along the way. Lizzie kept her smile fixed in place. “I’ve been sowing some wild oats, but I’m ready to settle down now. Aren’t I, darling?”

“Um, yeah.” Con seemed to be having trouble keeping up.

“I’m so glad to hear that. When I read about what happened…” She leaned forward conspiratorially until Lizzie could count the individual pores on her heavily powdered face. “With your inheritance.” The last word was a ponderous whisper. She shook her head with a tragic look on her face. Lizzie’s smile wobbled. “It’s a terrible shame. I said to Zelda, that poor girl is all alone in the world, without a penny. She’s probably never worked a day in her life…”

“Actually I’m a graphic design specialist.” She stepped back from the desk to get away from all those pores oozing prurient interest. How did this totally strange woman know enough about her to gossip with her friend over coffeecake? The thought gave her chills that competed with the air-conditioning.

“Zelda will be so tickled that you’re getting married. I can’t wait to tell her! And such a handsome fellow too.” She shot a simpering glance at Con, then gave Lizzie a big, warm smile that made her want to sink right down into the marble floor and disappear. Her little joke on Con had backfired, and now she’d sparked yet another embarrassing rumor about herself.

Her heels clacked on the marble as they followed the bellhop to the room. She cringed at the sight of herself in the mirrored walls of the elevator, her hair the size of a category-three hurricane.

The bridal suite was embarrassingly luxe. Marble glittered on every surface, silver love-birds flew across the walls, and the heart-shaped bed was a cheerful affront to good taste. The city sprawled below the huge picture window, with more of those damn mountains in the distance.