A Bad Boy is Good to Find(58)

“I’m nervous about everything,” she confessed. “Con never told me any of that business about his family. It was a horrible surprise. What’s next?”

Raoul stopped combing. “Hey, if that was your story, would you tell it to the beautiful girl you wanted to marry?”

Lizzie bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“You probably would. You’re the up-front, in-your-face type. I like that about you.” He started combing again. “And that’s why you’re perfect for Conroy. Some girls would have just let sleeping dogs lie. Who cares where he’s from, right? He’s cute.” He winked. “But not you. You’re not that easy.”

No? She’d been ready to tie the knot when he was a virtual stranger with a past she’d unwittingly invented. Sucker.

Raoul paused again, held her gaze in the mirror with those all-seeing almond-shaped eyes. “I know why you’re here.”

Lizzie’s stomach tightened. To make fifty thousand dollars fast.

“You have all kinds of reasons you think you’re here for.” He leaned in and she could smell his expensive cologne. “But you’re really here because you needed to know all about Conroy. The good, the bad and the ugly.”

Did I? She had no idea anymore. Hadn’t it been just a cruel joke? Maybe it always was more than that. About getting under Con’s smooth, tanned skin and seeing what made him tick. And now that she had…

She was crazier about him than ever.

“Keep your head still. What are you doing?” The comb tangled in her hair as she sprung from the chair.

“I need air!”

“You need detangling, sweetheart. I wouldn’t go downstairs with all those cameras looking like this if I were you.”

She collapsed back into the chair, heart thumping. “I really do love him.”

“I know.” He sprayed more detangler on her hair.

“But,” she hesitated, watching his sharp profile in the mirror. “He doesn’t love me,” she said softly.

“Oh, yes he does,” Raoul replied without breaking his combing rhythm.

“No, really, you don’t understand—” She groped for the right words to explain without giving too much away.

“Sweetheart, there are a lot of things I don’t understand, but one thing I know for sure, that boy is head over heels in love with you. Now sit still or we’ll be here all day.”



Lizzie came downstairs to find everyone outside, in front of the house, filming Con and his supposed ancestral estate.

She stood in the hallway, wondering why no one had asked her to come on camera. Gia crashed in through the front door, running.

“Gia, am I having another dress fitting this morning?”

“Um, I don’t know. I need to find something. Ask Maisie.” And Gia darted past her.

Lizzie didn’t want to come out the front door into the shot, so she went out the back door and crept around the side of the house. Four TV vans with satellite dishes on top cluttered the long oak-lined drive. Con stood in front of a camera, next to a reporter in a bright blue suit. Dino crouched off to one side, filming the interview, and Maisie hovered next to him with her clipboard in her hands and an expression of fierce excitement on her face.

She tapped Maisie on the arm and pulled her out of earshot. “Maisie, what’s going on?”

“The Eyewitness News team has been putting pressure on all the right people. They found an old will attached to the property.” Her pale eyes gleamed with manic intensity. “It leaves everything to the owner’s firstborn child. Since it seems Con’s mother was the only daughter of the owner, and she’s dead, it all belongs to Con.”

Lizzie snuck a glance at the gleaming white façade with its double tier of balconies. Holy crap. No real surprise, though.

“The trust is almost completely empty, and they’re starting an investigation into what happened to the money, as apparently there was almost two million in there when the old man died seven years ago. But—” Maisie glanced at Con, “they’ve uncovered other assets in storage, valuable antiques apparently, though at this point no one knows exactly what they are.”

Lizzie didn’t know what to say. Her brioche churned in her gut. “Any word on his brother?”

“Eyewitness News say they’ve had a slew of calls, but what with the inheritance they expect most or all of them are cranks wanting to get their hands on some money. They’re weeding through them.”

“So, um, the wedding, is it still on track for tomorrow?”

“The wedding? Oh, Don wants us to run with this inheritance story and get to the wedding after it’s died down a bit. He thinks this is fresher and will generate more buzz. Roger’s inside rough-cutting some promos already. It’s a perk that Con’s so great looking. I think we’re going to get a lot of attention with this show.”

Now if we could just recast the leading lady… Lizzie heard a subtext that made her glance down at the outfit she’d carefully chosen. She’d put some weight back on, and both the sage green capris and the turquoise blouse were a little snug. She’d have to keep her face to the camera so they didn’t see a panty line.

Not that it was a pressing problem right now.

Another thought occurred to her. “The lawyer said we probably couldn’t stay into next week. He said it was booked.” What if they decided to drop the wedding altogether?

“Bullshit. That good old boy is sweating bullets right now with the attorney general’s office breathing down his neck. It’s Con’s house, darling! He can stay here the rest of his life if he wants.” Maisie squeezed her wrist. “Isn’t it wonderful!”

“Oh, yes,” she said weakly. “Wonderful.”

The lord of the manor looked very handsome and earnest, talking with the reporter. What on earth were they gabbing about for so long? She couldn’t hear a word.

For someone who’d wanted nothing to do with the past, with the letters, with any claim to the house, Con had slipped into his new role with alarming ease, and she was getting left out in the cold. Or more accurately, in the sweltering, armpit-soaking heat. The blue cooling machines had been carted away, apparently given up as a lost cause. She probably wouldn’t get to feel cool again until she got back to New York.

If she ever did get back to New York.

Of course she was going back to New York. You’re not going to be living here by his side as lady of the manor. You’ll be lucky if he even goes through with the damn wedding now. He certainly doesn’t need the money. He can sell this pile for a pot of cash and cruise off into the sunset in a brand new gold Mercedes with a brand-new golden-haired mama by his side, no sugar even required.

She realized she was chewing her nail and pulled her hand sharply away. Damn, it was hard to breathe in this humidity.

Was it possible that Raoul was right and Con really did love her too?

Making love. What a funny expression. They’d done it three times last night. But amidst all the moaning and heavy breathing there had been no professions of undying love.