A Bad Boy is Good to Find(14)

“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…”