A Bad Boy is Good to Find(38)

“I won’t.” She flipped over, trying to get comfortable on the soft feather mattress. If anything, the heat and humidity were more oppressive in darkness. An almost-full moon blazed through a crack in the brocade curtains, picking out the plaster moldings around the high ceilings. A billion tree frogs screeched a high-pitched symphony.

She’d been lying here in the dark for two hours, hearing the voices of the crew—and Con—laughing and talking and having fun. She’d come up early, had all she could take of sitting outside under the stars with Con’s arm around her. She couldn’t laugh and talk and have fun with the cameras on her when it was all fake. The pretense was exhausting.

Con got along with everyone. Easygoing, quick witted and charming. He already had Maisie eating out of his palm. When Lizzie announced she was off to bed, he’d jumped to his feet to follow her upstairs to the Bridal Suite like the doting fiancé he so convincingly pretended to be.

But she needed to be away from him more than any of them. “Oh, no, sweetheart, please stay up. You’re the only one who knows how to keep the fire going.” He’d looked her in the eye, read her thoughts and stayed outside.

Sensitive bastard.

She’d spent some time studying the little stack of yellowed letters. No return address, just the address of the plantation house written in neat cursive. Ballpoint pen.

She hadn’t had the guts to open one. Yet.

Con shifted on the floor. Hardwood with no carpet. He’d have a pretty rough night. Maybe she should offer him the comforter since she wasn’t using it anyway?

Stop being a wuss. He deceived you and made a fool of you and turned you into the kind of person who throws shoes.

She tossed again. A very soft mattress could be surprisingly uncomfortable. A cramp seized her calf and she grabbed her foot, pulled the toe back hard and rubbed her knotted calf muscle, cursing under her breath until the ball of tension released.

Her dad probably wasn’t sleeping too well either. The ankle bracelet stayed on even at night, and his activities were under constant surveillance, particularly since his coconspirator, her former “financial advisor,” had disappeared without a trace. Probably sunning himself on a Caribbean island. She’d picked up several weeks’ worth of mail being held at the post office in New York and discovered a long letter from her father. He’d apologized for squandering her inheritance and letting the family down. He regretted the cruel things he’d said to her that last day at the house. He’d been overwrought, almost psychotic.

Or so he said.

He’d promised to try to make it up to her and her mother. He’d written so persuasively that she almost forgave him.

Almost.

The promise of a large inheritance had warped her life in many ways, cramped her existence. Now, dear, don’t forget, people know who you are. She’d accepted the limitations, held up her end of the deal.

Daddy’s a busy man, darling.

It had been a tradeoff— money instead of love—and he’d reneged on his end of the bargain.

She heard Con shift. Maybe just a pillow? She really didn’t need all four of them…

Sucker.

She’d been a sucker for her father and a sucker for Con, and she’d never be a sucker again.

That little game of footsie earlier had left her irritatingly aroused. Simple body mechanics of course, but frustrating.

She hadn’t had sex since the showdown in the desert. During their whirlwind courtship, four heavenly weeks, they’d done it almost every day. Sometimes several times. So easy, warm, inviting. A blissful connection and shared release.

Don’t think about it.

She tossed again, dragged the sheet over her. She could still hear laughter from downstairs. The crew were whooping it up and having a great time. They were all young, free and single—like her—except that she wasn’t really like them. Money had stood like a wall between herself and other people. She’d never had those easy, comfortable friendships other people her age enjoyed.

Except with Con.

“You okay, babe?” His murmured question startled her. Had he somehow heard her thoughts?

“Of course,” she snapped. “Go to sleep.”

And he did. Within minutes she heard his breathing slow and deepen. When she leaned over the edge of the bed, incredulous, she watched his broad chest rise and fall in the bright moonlight. He lay on his back, sinewy arms at his sides, totally relaxed. Expensive dark designer briefs hugged a bulge that suggested he might already be enjoying a good dream. Long muscled legs extended carelessly over the floor as if he lay cushioned on a cloud.

How on earth did he do it?

She wondered what lay in store for them at his real ancestral homestead. His obvious apprehension made her nervous. Wasn’t that just what she wanted? She’d come here to rub his nose in the humble roots he’d so artfully concealed. To blow his cover on national TV and punish him for his deception?

Now they were here he didn’t even put up a fuss about going. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t seem embarrassed like she’d expected.

She couldn’t figure him out. Which was, of course, how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place.



She didn’t sleep a single second all night long. In the morning her neck was killing her and her head ached. Con hadn’t moved a muscle. Just lay there, lips slightly parted, relaxed expression on his revoltingly handsome features, big sexy body sprawled on the bare wood.

She’d just decided to accidentally step on his hand on her way to the closet, when a knock on the door jolted him from his unseemly repose.

He flew onto the bed and flung his arm over her. “Come in.”

She resisted the urge to elbow him off, grateful for his quick reflexes. Honed, no doubt, while scrambling out women’s bedroom windows.

“Maisie!” She pulled the sheet up higher and tried not to recoil from those all-seeing ice-blue eyes.

“Don’t you two look cozy, sorry to interrupt.”

Con had circled Lizzie with his arm and snuggled against her, spoon fashion. She could feel a sizeable morning erection against her butt.

“That’s okay.” Con spoke lazily. “We’re practically in-laws, aren’t we, Maisie?” She could feel his smile and it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“So true. What a sweet thought.” Maisie snapped on a smile. “I’d love you to come down for breakfast, darlings, though I can see Lizzie needs some attention from Raoul first.”

Lizzie cringed. Her flattened hair probably stuck out all over like a Vandergraf generator and she could pack her new wardrobe in the bags under her eyes.

“We did have rather a wild night,” she managed.

Con buried his face in the back of her neck and kissed it. “Maisie doesn’t want to know what we were doing all night.”

Oh, she’d eat it up like pie, believe me.

“You’re right sweetheart. Sometimes I forget myself when I’m with you.” She settled her hand possessively on his big thigh. Steeled herself against the delicious spicy warmth of him at her back. He deserved full marks for playing along.