A Bad Boy is Good to Find(33)

You’re not the only one.

Con didn’t bat an eye. “Nothing more to me than meets the eye, right, Lizzie?”

“Yes, sweetie,” she said stiffly.

Con leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Gave her a shot of warm tongue that made her toes tingle, then pulled back leaving her glossy lipstick smudged and her dander sky-high.

“Sorry, Raoul, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Get your bad-boy ass out of here.”



With her hair ironed into a gleaming mahogany sheet, Lizzie wilted under the glare of the cameras as they sat at the dinner table.

Huge lights on metal stands blasted the large dining room with an intense blue-white glare. Fat cables trailed over the floor, ready to trip the unwary and the fine antiques and ornate plaster moldings shrank into the shadows.

The table glittered with crystal, with the fleur-de-lis plates she’d chosen. A Lalique bowl bulged with lush tropical fruit, glasses sparkled with wine already poured and heating under the lights. Soup shimmered in the bowls, souring and congealing in the heat. The illusion of a delicious meal to be shared by lovers.

When the reality was anything but.

Dino adjusted something on a monitor. “Can you put another scrim on the backlight? I’m getting some glare.”

Lizzie rested her aching cheek muscles while the camera was off. Con tugged at his too-tight collar. Winked at her. She glared at him.

Neither of them had managed to eat the congealed soup. Starving, she’d grabbed a red delicious apple from the Lalique bowl. Wax.

“Let’s see if we can make it more real this time,” chirped Gia. “More natural. Maybe you could hold hands over the table or something?”

Lizzie managed not to grimace. She picked up her hand and flung it down on the table like a rubber chicken she’d been hiding under the tablecloth.

Con took hold of her fingers. His hand looked rather brown and rough against the sheen of the white damask tablecloth. His fingers closed around hers and Lizzie took a deep breath. Sweat trickled down her back underneath her blue dress.

“You okay?” he mouthed.

“Or course,” she mouthed back. Why did he have to look so freakin’ sensitive and caring? Shame she couldn’t snark at him here in front of everyone. She shot him a warm smile. “Your hand is sweaty.”

“So’s yours.”

“I’m surprised my dress isn’t soaked through,” she murmured. “It must be a hundred and fifty degrees right here. I think my wine is about to boil.”

“I know, I know. I’m terribly sorry.” Gia picked her way to the table over the trailing cables. “I’ve told Maisie and she’s ordered a slew of portable air-conditioning units to be delivered tomorrow. Honestly, we’d stop shooting, but we really need to get some establishing shots, just stuff to work into the story, or we won’t have time. We’re on such a tight schedule. Dino, darling, are you nearly ready? Our stars are wilting.”

Dino mumbled something while pushing an array of buttons on a deck of whirring machines. “Alright, just make some natural conversation, it doesn’t matter what you say as it’ll probably just be used for cutaways and that kind of thing.”

A tense silence followed. Lizzie could feel about ten pairs of eyes on her.

“The house is lovely, isn’t it,” she said with a pained smile.

“I think you said that when we arrived.” Con’s eyes gleamed with humor.

Irritation streaked up her spine. “Why don’t you say something then?”

“It’s surprisingly difficult to chitchat when there’s a camera and a crowd staring at you.”

“It’s good practice for our wedding.” She stared right at him, wishing she’d paid more attention in speech and drama class. “I’m so looking forward to it, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I can’t wait until we’re man and wife.”

He spoke slowly, voice low and dark, and as he said it she felt something on her leg.

His bare foot.

What had he done with his shoe? She twitched her leg back and grabbed her soup spoon. Dipped it into the congealed mess in her bowl, prickling with annoyance.

Then she felt it again. This time on her crotch. She tried to snap her knees together, but his leg was already blocking the way and she bumped against the hard muscle of his calf. His toes rested gently against the thin layer of her satin panties.

It was too hot for pantyhose.

She gasped, trying to keep a straight face. Con just sat there staring at her. His toes wriggled.

I will not be aroused.

“Warm in here, isn’t it?” He winked.

Bastard.

The gentle movement of his toes, and now the ball of his foot, stirred up sensations she didn’t want to feel. Heat swelled in her groin as fury stirred in her heart. She shifted in her chair, trying to pull back without letting the crew know what was happening under the neatly pressed white tablecloth.

Con massaged her crotch gently with his foot. His face and upper body remained motionless, only the twinkle in his eyes was active. Her nipples sprung to attention, pushing into the satin of her bra, and her breath got shallow.

“It is terribly hot,” she hissed. “And I can see you’re uncomfortable in that rather formal suit. There’s no need to get all dressed up for me, you know. We’re going to be married, so you can just relax and be yourself.”

Con’s eyes narrowed.

She faked a “natural” looking sip of her hot wine.

“I’m quite comfortable.” He wiggled his toes. Her clit throbbed.

“Really, darling, I know I’m burning up all over and I’m barely wearing anything at all.” She indicated her expansive uncovered cleavage.

Con blinked, fought a smile. It was good to feel that she still had some power over him, even while his damn toes were revving her engines without permission.

She leaned forward, pushing into him. Challenging him. “Heatstroke can be dangerous.”

“I’m used to the heat. I’m from these parts, remember?” He raised an eyebrow. She held his gaze. He picked up his warm wine and sipped it. A mistake, from the pained expression that flitted across his face.

She had the upper hand now.

“Sweetheart, give me your jacket.” She pulled her hand from his grasp and extended it. “Now.”

Her heart pumped loudly as she waited to see if he’d comply. His toes still rested against the moist satin of her crotch. He’d promised to do this her way. Was he a man of his word?

She enjoyed a flush of triumph as he pulled his foot back, regret in his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders out of the jacket. Held her gaze with a dark stare that made her stomach quiver. He handed her the jacket, lifting it high over the table.

“Your tie.” Sweet smile. “Come on, sweetie, we can all see your collar is tight.”

Without blinking or breaking eye contact, Con slid a sinewy finger into the knot of his silk tie and loosened it. Pulled it off and handed it to her.

She dropped it on the floor, right on top of his expensive jacket. She wasn’t going to look away first.