A Bad Boy is Good to Find(34)

She could feel the crew’s excitement. Everyone was deathly quiet, totally still, the only sound in the room was the hum of the lights.

“Go on, unbutton your collar.”

Con obeyed, still staring her down, his eyes black and fuming. The surge of power she felt scared her a little. What could she make him do?

He undid the button below his collar. Then the one below that, and the cuffs.

Still holding her gaze he untucked his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift movement.

Lizzie held her breath, blood pounding, as he balled it up—still without blinking—and handed it to her.

She took it, looked away, gasping for air as she dropped it on the floor and accidentally tipped her plate, spilling soup on the table cloth.

Con settled back in his chair, shirtless. Then turned to the stone faced waiter standing out of view of the camera. “Could you bring me some ice, please?”

Lizzie gulped.

At the urging of someone off screen, a uniformed waitress silently approached and removed their bowls of uneaten soup. Lizzie nodded her thanks. Con didn’t nod or move at all. Just sat there, totally relaxed, as if he ate a bare-chested banquet every day of his life.

The satin sheen on his tanned skin looked positively ornamental, unlike the sweat rolling down her back and soaking her dress. Her antiperspirant had failed miserably, and her whole face probably shone with thick droplets. Her skin hummed, still aroused, even without his touch still on it.

She’d called Con’s bluff and he’d raised her.

His perfect six-pack mocked her, along with the full curve of those gym-pumped biceps.

“Your chest is so tanned. I guess that’s from working out in the hot sun fixing all those cars.” She wanted to remind everyone that he wasn’t really the lord of the manor. Somehow removing his shirt had made him look more regal and imposing, not less.

Con tilted his head, gave her a long, sensual look with those narrowed black eyes. “I guess so, babe, but the last car I fixed up you did most of the work, remember?”

Lizzie’s mouth fell open.

“You’re a hard worker, and very talented.”

“I… I…”

His toes were on her ankle now. Sliding up her calf very lightly. Her whole body tingled with a scary mixture of rage and arousal that left her speechless.

“We’re a great team, you and me.” He reached across the table, holding his hand out for hers.

Her face heated as she realized—cameras on— she had no choice but to take it. He’s my true love.

He squeezed her hand in a way that made her belly quiver.

“I think that once the world finds out about what you can do with a spray gun, you’ll be well on your way to getting rich again.”

He squeezed her hand again. Like he was giving her a signal. Had kind of a serious expression on his face. Was this his crude way of trying to boost her artistic career on camera?

“Painting is just a hobby,” she hissed.

“It shouldn’t be. I’ve never seen anything like the work you did on that Corvette.”

Pride shimmered through her for a split second before she realized Maisie was going to see this and laugh herself into a coma. She kicked Con under the table with the spiked toe of her shoe.

He flinched, surprised.

Just then the waitress put a glass of ice next to his wineglass.

Con picked up the glass, which looked ridiculously delicate in his big hands. In fact, all of him looked bigger now, without the civilizing veneer of clothing. He pulled a cube from the glass and rubbed it over his skin, on the back of his neck and down between his pecs. Then he held it out to her. “Here, babe.”

She blinked. She could feel the crew’s ears pricking up. She had to take it. He was her true love, right?

She cupped her palm, and Con pushed the melting ice cube in to it.

Dropped his eyes to her cleavage.

Her breasts seemed to rise under his gaze, nipples standing to attention. She stiffened her spine. Water from the ice dripped down her wrist as she drew her hand back and rubbed the cube over her collarbone, up her neck. An icy thrill. Con winked.

Jerk. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable heat still throbbing inside her, vying with the cool trickle of water between her breasts.

Con licked his lips slightly, almost imperceptible, and she shuddered. Damn him! She dropped the remaining fragment of ice on the floor, dragged her eyes from his muscled chest looking for any distraction. She reached for a glossy apple, then snatched her hand back when she remembered they were made of wax.

“Where’s the food?” Con said casually. “My woman’s getting hungry.”

More punishing heat flooded her face, and she wondered if anyone had ever died of embarrassment on camera before.

Gia scurried forward. Gestured to Dino to stop rolling. “They’re having trouble in the kitchen. Can’t get the stove going.” She grimaced. “It was working okay earlier, but there’s something wrong with the gas range.” She came closer. “The chef is having a hissy fit.”

“Maybe Con should look at it. He’s mechanically inclined.” Lizzie said, gathering what was left of her wits.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” Con pushed his chair back, stood up and wandered off into the kitchen. On those bare feet he’d been tormenting her with.

Lizzie dotted her napkin over her heavily perspiring face.





Chapter 13





Out in the backyard, Con rapped on the metal propane tank connected to the range in the kitchen, and it rang back a familiar reply. He tried not to laugh out loud. Clearly this was not going to be the week of all-expenses-paid luxury he’d envisioned.

“Empty,” he called through the darkness. “You got another tank?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll have to order one from town tomorrow,” Gia replied from the doorway. No one had followed him out into the pitch-black garden. It was a relief to get away from the cameras and lights for a moment.

The chef, a serious New York City prima donna, was fuming and stamping and smoking cigarettes in the kitchen, and Con was pretty damn hungry. Something about shrimp had been mentioned earlier and his stomach was growling for it. “Got a barbeque?”

“Not sure. I didn’t notice one,” called Gia.

He walked back to the brightly lit door where the crew thronged, peering anxiously into the garden. “We can build a fire back here on the patio if you’ll help me get some wood together.”

“I bet there are all kinds of huge snakes and spiders and bats out there. I heard the insects down here are ten times the size they are back home,” said Gia. “I think I’d rather starve.”

“Nah, just friendly creatures out here. If any zombies start coming out of the swamp I’ll let you know. Come on, I’ll get started, and you guys figure out where to build the fire.”

The garden was pretty well manicured so he had to walk almost all the way to the bottom, where the bayou gleamed in the moonlight. Fallen branches from the gnarled old trees were stacked in a couple of neat piles. Their limbs pricked and scratched his bare chest as he walked back across the cool grass.