A Bad Boy is Good to Find(11)

How could something so beautiful, so perfect, that brought her such shining happiness, have turned out to be a big joke at her expense?

She shook her head, tangled curls blurring her vision. Hard breaths came like sobs, but she managed to get her breathing under control. Lifted her chin.

He grimaced as he rearranged his arms again. “You’ve had your fun.” His voice was gruff. “Can you please take the cuffs off?”

That nasty hollow laugh shook her again. “Had my fun? That’s where you’re wrong. I’m just getting started.”





Chapter 5





“Okay, okay, you sweet-talked me. Again.” She unlocked the cuffs and oddly it was a relief to see Con stretch and flex his wrists.

She tried to ignore the ripple effect in the muscles of his back as he rolled off the bed and stretched.

“We made a fair deal. You get the car keys. I get the handcuff key.”

“How did you know I wouldn’t take the car keys and hightail it out of town, leave you here for the maid?”

“Because you’re not like that.”

“More fool me.” She jingled the car keys between her fingers. “You must really trust me—to let me go outside and get my clothes before I unlocked you.”

“I’m a good judge of character.” Con still wore nothing but the pair of blue boxers she’d given him. All tan skin and toned muscles, dusted with black hair. She averted her eyes.

“You can spot a sucker from fifty paces?”

“Something like that.” A wry look. “We need to get you some food. We passed a diner on the way here. Let’s go there and get a good breakfast. How’s your head feeling?”

“What head? I lost it over a man, remember?”

“When did you turn into such a wiseass?” He picked up his pants.

“I guess around the same time that someone made a total ass of me. Those pants are dirty. I brought you some clean ones from the car.” She picked up a pair of black pants she’d found in his luggage and threw them at him.

He caught them with one hand. “Now that’s just what I mean, about your character.” Shook them out and put his foot in. “Thoughtful. I appreciate it.” His polite smile made her want to slap him.

“Did you bring my Cheetos?”

“I did not.”

“I’m on a strict diet. Do you want me to blow up like a balloon again?”

“I want you to be strong and healthy. ‘Cheese food’ is not a balanced diet.” He zipped his pants. She tossed him the clean white shirt she’d brought, without paying any attention to his flat stomach.

She glanced down at her exercise ensemble, dark gray yoga pants with a stripe to match the short lime-green tank top. Now that she wasn’t high as a popped cork she felt more than a little self-conscious. At least neither of them was skintight. She’d cringed when she snatched down the skimpy two-piece she’d had on yesterday from the shower rail.

“Let’s go.” Con tucked his shirt into his pants, which as usual looked like they’d been custom cut to hug his… Never mind. He whipped out a comb and slicked his hair back, revealing the proud line of his cheekbones. He stroked his chin. “Mind if I shave?”

“Yes.” That’s all she needed. Chiseled perfection with smooth skin. “I’m hungry, let’s go.”

Con gathered up his stuff, loaded up the car and went to pay the motel bill. Lizzie deliberately climbed into the driver’s seat. It went against all her instincts, but she felt this display of bravado was necessary to establishing a certain balance of power.

Of course if she had any moxie at all she’d put the key in the ignition and drive away. But—as Con had pointed out—she wasn’t that kind of girl. Shame.

She rolled down the windows. No A/C from the looks of it.

When he returned, his brow darkened at the sight of her in his seat. She blinked innocently.

“I’ll drive,” he growled.

“No, actually I will. I’m sure I’m just as good at it as Frankie.” She shot him a menacing look.

Con silently walked around to the passenger seat and climbed in. Fastened his seat belt.

A stick shift? Uh, oh. She hadn’t noticed that when she got in. She turned the ignition and tried to remember which pedal was which. Left foot on the clutch, let it up slowly…

A horrible grinding sound rose from the engine as the car inched forward and then stalled.

“I’ll drive.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, it’s okay, I’m just a little rusty. I’ll get it this time.”

She let out the clutch, applied gas and with only minor scraping sounds the car lurched forward. Thank goodness she didn’t have to reverse out. She drove to the lot entrance and stalled hard.

“Please…”

She ignored him. Started it up again, pulled out onto the highway and made sure to stay in first as long as possible to really drive up his blood pressure. Only when the engine sounded like it was about to catch fire did she shift into second with a smile. “Nothing to it.”

When she finally shifted into third after whizzing along in second at about fifty miles per hour, she could swear she heard him exhale. They drove for miles through featureless brown desert, her hair whipping about her face. The sky was painfully blue.

“There’s the diner,” he said, audibly relieved, as a glint of metal appeared on the horizon.

She downshifted and pulled into the dusty lot of the 1960s-era diner with maximum grinding of gears. Stalled to a halt diagonally poised across two parking spaces. This was fun.

Con wiped a bead of sweat from his upper lip.

Inside, Lizzie settled into an aqua booth, enjoying the air-conditioning.

“I’ll have a small fruit salad and a glass of water, please,” she said with a smile. Her stomach protested loudly, and she slammed the greasy menu shut to silence it.

Con glared at her for a moment. “I’ll have the blue-plate breakfast, with the eggs scrambled and a short stack. Whole-wheat toast.” He smiled at the waitress. “Two of those, please.”

“You have quite an appetite.” Lizzie arranged her napkin on her lap as the waitress moved away.

“How are you feeling?” He shook out his napkin.

“I’m not sure. How do you suppose a gong feels after it’s just been banged?”

“Need some aspirin?”

“No thanks. Pain can accelerate spiritual growth.”

“Is that the kind of thinking they feed you at Zen Mind?” He took a sip of his water.

“No. No pain at Zen Mind. Mostly manicures, shiatsu massage, hair ironing, that kind of thing. I’m not sure if there’s a connection between hair ironing and Zen Buddhism, but it’s very chic.”

“I don’t doubt it. Very expensive too, I bet.”

“It’s only money. When you owe two million dollars, really, what’s a few thousand more?”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “You’ll regret getting into debt.”