A Bad Boy is Good to Find(19)

Maisie found herself blinking and staring. As much at Lizzie’s newfound self-possession as at her bizarre revelations. “I wondered why you never introduced me to him.”

“I know what a keen judge of character you are. I’m sure you’d have sniffed him out in a minute.”

“And there I was thinking you were worried about me stealing him away from you.” Maisie forced a cheerful smile.

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that. You only did that once.” Lizzie returned her icy smirk. “And really, I’m sure you were doing me a favor stealing my first and only boyfriend. What if I’d married him? I’d never have met Con. I can’t imagine my life without him.”

They blinked at each other in a smiling standoff. Maisie didn’t know how to play this new Lizzie. Usually barbed remarks were enough to get her lip quivering, but now they seemed to bounce right back and poke her in the eye.

Onward and upward. “I remember something about you cursing the ground he walked on and never wanting to see his face again as long as you live. Why is he suddenly back in your good graces?”

“Oh.” Lizzie giggled and waved a hand in the air. “It was all a terrible misunderstanding! When he came all the way to Arizona to find me and beg me to take him back…” She paused, closed her eyes, put her hand dramatically to her forehead. “I knew we’re meant to be together, money or no money. It’s a true love match.” Her eyes shone with tears.

Scary. But funny as hell!

“That suit is quite something. Were they auctioning off the wardrobe from Dynasty?”

Aha! The lip quivered. She wasn’t entirely impervious. Must have thought she looked good in it, poor thing.

“Is Conroy joining us today?”

“No, unfortunately he had to drive his car back from Arizona.”

“You couldn’t hire a driver for that?” Sorry, couldn’t resist.

But Lizzie didn’t even cringe. “We’re penniless, Maisie, penniless! That’s why we need your show to make our wedding dreams come true.”

“Of course.” Wedding dreams! This got better every minute. She hoped they’d pick Atlantis. She’d put on a “dream wedding” there to make Hathaway eyeballs pop right out.

She looked right at Lizzie and nodded. “Lizzie darling, Celebrity Access will make all your wedding dreams come true.”

Gia the perky little production assistant stuck her head in the door. “Don’s ready!”

“Marvelous. We’ll be right in.”



Don, executive producer for the “documentary production” arm of the Celebrity Cable Network, including Maisie’s show Celebrity Access, was a middle-aged man with a thick head of gray hair and a deep salon tan. “Come in, Lizzie.”

“Thanks.” Lizzie felt horribly self-conscious in her ketchup colored suit now that Maisie’d compared it to something from Dynasty. She probably should have worn one of the outfits Con chose. He had far better taste, but none of them fit any more. She’d bought this one from a resale shop on Madison Avenue in trade for a pair of Jimmy Choo sandals she’d never wear in her newly sober state.

Maisie handed some papers to each of them. Without the soft filter of inebriation, her cousin intimidated her. When she’d been drunk it almost felt like they really were friends, but now the habitual cat-and-mouse relationship Maisie had always enjoyed with her threatened to send her scurrying again. She took a deep breath.

“So, Lizzie, Maisie tells me you’ve met the man of your dreams and you’d like our show to put on your wedding.” Don rested enormous tanned hands, fingers interlaced, on the oak conference table.

“Yes. As you’ve heard, my family has fallen on hard times.” She tossed her head like a down-but-not-out Scarlett O’Hara. “I’ve always been wealthy, but with my father under indictment and my bank accounts empty, I hardly know what to do.”

Don leaned forward. “I’ve seen a tremendous amount of press coverage about your family in the last few weeks, and you’ve attracted some attention of your own lately, mostly with party-girl Maisie here.” He shot an arch smile at Maisie. “So what can you bring us that’s new?”

“My love story.” She clasped her hands together. “Conroy Beale and I are meant to be together. He’s from a poor background, and my parents fiercely opposed our marriage, but—as you know, I’m sure—nothing can stand in the path of true love.”

His brow furrowed.

Had she overdone it? As a journalist of sorts he probably had a more sensitive bullshit detector than other people.

“He’s very handsome,” she quickly added. “Really, women swoon for him. He’d have been quite out of my league if I wasn’t wealthy. But even now that I’m not wealthy, he still wants to marry me.” Fake smile.

Guilt at her deception began to creep through her at the thought of taking their money, but nothing she’d said was an outright lie. Maybe he didn’t actually want to marry her anymore, but he’d offered.

Damn, she was starting to think like Con.

“I like it.” Don’s leathery face creased into a toothy grin. “I think if we can do it quickly enough we’ll grab some midseason switch viewers. Can you begin shooting next week?”

“Absolutely.” The sooner she could get this whole charade over with, the better.

“Perhaps Maisie’s told you, but in this company we don’t waste time hemming and hawing. We get the show on the road. Location?”

“Well,” Lizzie drew in a breath. “I know you sent us a list of locales, and they are all lovely. But Con and I have our hearts set on a very special place.”

She paused, looked down at her hands, then up at him with intense faux-sincerity. “Con is from a tiny town in Louisiana, a sweet little place in the mangrove swamps, and we’d love to return to his birthplace to exchange our vows.”

“Mangrove swamps? I thought those were in Florida?” Don’s eyes narrowed.

“Cypress swamps?” Lizzie flushed. “I’m afraid I haven’t been there, but Con’s told me so much about it. It sounds charmingly rustic.”

“Humph. It could work. What’s this place called?”

Lizzie licked her lips. “It’s called, um, Mudbug Flats.” She kind of murmured it.

“What?” One of Don’s impressive gray eyebrows shot up.

“Mudbug Flats.” The name rang though the air. Suddenly this all seemed like a terrible idea.

“That sounds like hell.”

“Don,” Maisie leaned forward and cleared her throat. “You have a glamorous New York City heiress, traveling to a Louisiana bayou town called Mudbug Flats. It has a charming fish-out-of-water quality.”

“Humph. You know, she just might be right.” He looked at Lizzie. “I hired your cousin because she knows the right people. Goes to the right places. She’s got class, so I’ll defer to her on this one if that’s what she wants. If Lizzie Hathaway wants to get married in Mudbug Flats, Louisiana, then Celebrity Access will make it happen.”