A Bad Boy is Good to Find(7)

“You lost weight.” He couldn’t help saying it. Feeling it with a pang of sorrow. A white tank top molded to her sports-bra squashed breasts and whittled waist.

“Yes.” She turned to him with a triumphant grin.

Even her face was thinner, cheekbones standing out.

“And you straightened your hair.” His heart sank at the sight of all those glorious curls pressed out of existence.

“Yes, thank God! Who knew it was so easy?” She tossed the sleek mahogany mane over her shoulder as she turned from him. Con swallowed hard. What had he expected?

She filled a champagne glass she’d retrieved from a carved armoire and handed it to him. The lovely soft arms he used to rest his head on were hard with muscle, tanned.

The big brown eyes he used to lose himself in were cold. “So, what the hell are you doing here? Despite appearances to the contrary, I’m still flat broke.” She slurred a bit, but didn’t seem to notice.

“How much are you drinking?”

“As much as I can.” She raised her glass and plastered on a smile before taking a gulp of champagne.

He drew in a breath. “I came because I’m worried about you.”

“You’re worried about me? Don’t tell me you believe what you read in the gossip rags. I’m used to being the fat wallflower, so I’m enjoying my newfound celebrity. Look at this.” She snatched a newspaper off the bed. “‘Lizzie Hathaway dances the blues away. The glamorous former heiress laughed when asked about her father’s recent indictment for stock fraud. Cutting up the dance floor at L.A.’s newest club, Breakdown, she and cousin Maisie Dixon turned heads until five in the morning. Speculation about her father’s…’ blah blah blah. Who cares about Hathaway freaking industries?” She flung the paper down.

“Is your cousin Maisie here too?”

“She was. Left for some kind of job. In television.” She raised her eyebrows at the last word and shook her head. “I’m glad she’s gone. I’m tired.” She sipped her champagne. She had shadows under her eyes.

She slipped her hand into a bag of Cheetos on the counter. “Like a Cheeto? I’ve discovered they’re the perfect food. Dairy, grain, salt and sugar. A bag of Cheetos and a case of champagne and you’re good to go.” She crunched the orange Styrofoam peanut between perfectly straight white teeth. “I’m going to write a diet book. “The Champagne and Cheetos diet,” using myself as a testimonial.” She indicated her slim body with orange-powdered fingers. “I think it will be a mega-bestseller, don’t you?”

“I bet it will. How much have you lost?”

“Twenty pounds! In little more than a month.”

“Jesus.” He ran a hand through his hair. How was that even possible? Certainly wasn’t healthy.

It was all his fault, though.

“Now let’s look at you.” She peered at him, scrutinized him from head to toe, teetered in her heels. “Disgustingly good-looking as usual. And you must be the only man on earth who could drive nearly three thousand miles and arrive in Arizona in one hundred degree heat without a single wrinkle in his white dress shirt. Your nose looks a little different though, if I’m not mistaken.”

He touched his nose. She wasn’t the first person to comment on it, though it looked the same to him. “You broke it.”

“Did I?” Her high pitched laugh hurt his ears.

“Blacked both my eyes too.” He managed not to smile. “I deserved it.”

“You damn well did. Let’s drink to that!” She raised her glass, then swigged more champagne. “I left you for dead and I haven’t looked back.”

He steeled himself against her hatred. What had he expected? “I don’t think you’ve looked forward either, have you?”

“What do you mean?” She frowned, weaved and grabbed another Cheeto from the open bag.

“What are you doing with your life?”

“Living it to the fullest!” She hiccupped and sprayed some orange powder at him. “Sorry.” She frowned. “No, actually, I’m not at all sorry. I’d like to dump this whole bag on you and your crisp white shirt, but that would be a waste of the perfect food and it’s not easy to get around here.”

“You can do what you like to me. I don’t mind, I had it coming. But I can’t watch you do this to yourself.”

“No one invited you to watch anything. I don’t know what you’re doing here. You said you needed to come in for one minute, and your minute is up. Get out.” No emotion showed on her flawless face.

She looked at him so coldly that the air squeezed out of his lungs. Oh, Lizzie. What have I done to you?

He’d made mistakes before. He hadn’t been able to save the people he loved, and he lived with that guilt every day. Since then he’d done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of in the name of survival. He couldn’t change the past, but he could take responsibility for hurting Lizzie and try to make things right. “How are you paying for all this? Don’t you owe your brokerage two million dollars?”

“That’s their problem, not mine. I’ve discovered the joy of credit cards.”

“You’re running up credit?”

“I sold some old jewelry too.” She peered down her nose at him. “But don’t get excited, there’s none left now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Drink, not eat and be merry for tomorrow we may—” Another hiccup made her rock on her heels.

His heart clutched and he grabbed her arm. “Lizzie. Come on, you’re killing yourself. Come with me and we’ll get you sorted out.”

“I said the jewelry’s all gone. There’s nothing in it for you!” She spat the icy words as she wrenched her arm from his grasp.

“I don’t care about your money, but I can’t let you drink like this. You didn’t drink at all until you met me.”

“Had no idea what I was missing!” Her lipsticked mouth twisted into a fake grin. “I have to thank you for showing me the light—which looks especially golden through the bottom of a bottle of champagne. Cheers!” She drained her glass, then slammed it down on the table. “Now get out.”

Time for plan B. Actually it was plan A, since he’d pretty much assumed she wouldn’t go willingly.

“I brought you a present.” He lifted the flower-patterned bag filled with pink tissue paper.

“Oh, how touching. Now take it with you when you piss off.” She picked up the champagne bottle and refilled her glass, spilling some on the table.

“How much have you drunk today?” He didn’t manage to sound casual.

“Don’t worry, dear, it’s my first bottle. Whoops, it seems to be empty. Lucky thing I have a case in the fridge.” Her empty eyes stared at him in mute challenge. Devoid of all the love and laughter he’d once put there.

“Won’t you at least see what I brought you?” He shook the bag and a metallic clank sounded under the rustling tissue paper.