A Bad Boy is Good to Find(28)

Ouch. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do I? Why not? There’s nothing between us but a business agreement so you don’t owe me any debt of fidelity. I’d feel no guilt about sleeping with any handsome, available men who happen to be interested. Not that any are, of course, now I’m flat broke.”

“I know one who is, ” he whispered into her thick hair.

“Trust you to call yourself handsome.”

“I’m not? A guy could get sensitive, especially if his nose got broken.” He teased his tightening erection against her butt.

She stiffened. “I feel an uncomfortable bump. Kindly back off.”

“Maybe there’s a pea under the mattress?”

“I believe it’s a thorn in my side.”

“Aw, come on. Wouldn’t you like to screw me again? Fuck me hard and toss me aside like you did back in the desert? I wouldn’t mind.” His cock throbbed at the memory.

“I hate to repeat myself. Now back off or you’re out on the patio.” She flipped over to face him and her breasts grazed his chest as she glared at him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be good.” It caused him pain, but he backed off a few inches onto a chilly part of the sheet. “Go on and go to sleep, I’ll do the same.”

She turned over again, flicking her hair in his face, and settled down with her back to him.

You’d think since he was going along with her wacko plan she’d at least share a little affection with him. He didn’t like this whole game she was playing and couldn’t help a nasty feeling it was going to blow up in their faces. But, she felt he owed her and he couldn’t argue with that.

And as long as they were still together, anything was possible.





Chapter 11





Con’s enthusiastic grin sent a stab of guilt straight to Lizzie’s heart as he settled himself into the leather seat of the corporate jet taking them to their surprise destination. She’d convinced the show to fork out for the jet on the grounds that she was the Lizzie Hathaway. The real reason was more practical. If they’d taken a commercial flight to, say, New Orleans, Con might have figured out their destination at the airport and balked.

“Pretty slick.” He fondled the leather armrest like it was a woman’s thigh.

Lizzie crossed her legs and snapped her seatbelt closed. “It’s just a plane. I can’t believe you’ve never been on one before.” An odd thought tweaked her. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Same age as you.” He jumped up from his seat and walked around the plane, peering out the windows and studying the door into the cabin. Avoiding her glance.

She blinked at him as her guilt evaporated completely. “Why am I not surprised? For some reason I believed you were twenty-nine, but now I know better than to trust any information I acquired back when I was the target of your money-grubbing affections. Let me see, I think I asked you how old you were, and you said, ‘How old do you think I am?’ then laughed and looked delighted when I said twenty-nine. So naturally I assumed…” She paused and shook her head.

He shrugged, rueful expression undercut by twinkling eyes.

She stared at him. “You look at least thirty, by the way.”

“A hard life will do that to you.” He shot her a cheery grin and settled into his seat. “This is the life for me.”

“I guess this is all excellent practice for your next attempted conquest. I’m sure you’ll have her eating out of your hand as you describe all the details of a private jet that you will just delicately hint is all yours. I can see you making mental notes about everything here in preparation.” Lizzie ignored the way her legs responded as if he was stroking them.

“Nice, though, isn’t it?” He stroked his armrest again.

“Whatever. Planes all look the same to me. A way to get from A to B.”

“Speaking of which, d’you think I should ask the pilot where we’re going?”

“No!” She said it too fast and loud. “We’re under contract. If they want to it be a surprise, lets keep it a surprise.”

“Are they going to film us as we get off the plane or something?”

“I don’t think they’re going to film us at the airport—there’s a car meeting us there—but they’re definitely going to film us arriving at our destination.”

“I don’t get. What’s the point of making it a surprise?”

Lizzie tried to look casual. “I guess they want those expressions of heartfelt joy on our faces. They said it was going to be somewhere special, that would mean a lot to us.”

A crease appeared between Con’s eyebrows. “What exactly did you tell them about us?”

“Nothing but the truth. Or at least what I’ve been told is the truth. One never really knows around you. Though naturally not the whole truth.”

Con’s frown deepened. With his sun-scorched skin and expression of hard-won wisdom, he didn’t look even close to twenty-five. Was he bullshitting her again?

Now the gloves were off, she didn’t think he’d lied to her. He’d been good to her in his own misguided way. She shook her head at the memory of Mrs. Frankie Gianopolous on her lawn. Did he think you could just charm women into anything?

Con peered out the window during the flight. Lizzie closed her eyes, not wanting to see his gleeful enthusiasm over every new detail he spotted out the window.

Okay, so maybe he really was twenty-five.

But her plan wasn’t cruel. She was taking him home. Yes, she wanted to put him on the spot and make him sweat. She wanted to see the real Con, not the slick, polished version that led her up the garden path. If he had an embarrassing past he’d tried to leave behind, it would be character building for him to face up to it. Maybe he’d form new loving relationships with all the relatives he’d left behind and he’d thank her for turning his life back in the right direction.

Right?

She glanced out her own window. He had to have realized by now that they were heading South.

“I think it’s going to be Mexico.” He settled back in his seat with his hands behind his head. “I can’t wait to see you in a bikini.”

“What a scary thought. Luckily, I don’t have one.”

“Why are you so down on yourself? You had a beautiful body before you starved yourself half to death, now you have a beautiful body by anyone’s standards.”

Why did he have to wear that expression that looked so much like genuine concern?

“Trust me, women are more critical about these things. Next to Maisie I look like a hippo. I could work out day and night for a year, and she’d still find something to chuckle over. I’m sure she was laughing her ass off at me wearing all that skimpy gear she helped me pick out at Las Gordas. Probably going around calling me La Gorda.”

“I thought you two were such great friends while you were there.”

“I thought so too. Of course I was drunk as a skunk the whole time, no small thanks to Maisie. With the hindsight of sobriety I can see she was having fun with me the way a cat has fun with its prey before it bites its head off.”