A Bad Boy is Good to Find(9)

“Stop talking and get some sleep.”

“I don’t think so! I just woke up, in case you’ve forgotten. And I can hardly relax around you. In spite of the fact that I nearly married you, I don’t have any idea who you are.”

“Someone who cares about you.” He said it softly.

Her heart tripped and she cursed herself for it. How many other things had he said to her with such breathtaking sincerity that had turned out to be—

“Utter bullshit!”

“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to believe a word I say. I’m just here to help you get dried out.”

“Get another towel then. My hair’s still wet.”

He walked into the bathroom and she rocketed off the bed toward the door. She was fumbling with the lock when he emerged with a curse. Suddenly she was on the floor, crushed under him.

“Ow, my head hurts. Everything hurts. Where’s my stuff?”

He picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Settled her down and tucked her in. His arms were strong and warm and she didn’t have the energy to resist.

“I brought all your things in a bag. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice soothed her as he patted her hair with a white towel. “Get some sleep.”

She couldn’t find any more words, so she closed her eyes.



Lizzie crept back to consciousness, her mouth dry as a scoured pot. Water. Must get water. Thin light sneaking around the curtains suggested dawn.

The sound of breathing alerted her to the presence of her captor sleeping next to her on the bed. He lay on his stomach, one arm under his head, the other touching her pillow. Dressed only in a pair of blue boxer shorts.

She’d given him those shorts.

Humiliation flooded back on a wave of adrenaline.

She lifted her head and pushed aside the tangle of hair blocking her vision. His strong back rose and fell with the steady breathing of deep, dreamless sleep. A peaceful expression softened his masculine features.

She’d like to disturb that peace.

But first, she needed water.

She eased off the bed in incremental movements, anxious not to creak the mattress. Crept across the stiff carpet into the bathroom and eased the door shut. She stuck her head under the faucet and gulped back water in breathtaking icy swallows. Drank and drank and drank until it tasted like thick cream pouring down her throat.

At last she threw her head back and inhaled air. The sight of her face in the mirror made her gasp. Her hair, recently wet, had sprung back into a nightmare of tangled curls. Smudged mascara and eyeliner gave her eyes manic intensity. She scrubbed it off with the damp corner of a towel.

The skimpy T-shirt and shorts she’d had on yesterday hung over the shower rail, alerting her that she stood there in only her bra and panties.

He’d undressed her.

The thought of his fingers on her skin made her flesh creep with… With disgust, surely. How could she feel anything else for him? He’d handcuffed her, stolen her away and locked her up in this strange motel.

Her clothes were damp, like they’d been washed. She lifted the blinds and peered out the small, slatted bathroom window. Featureless desert stretched out toward a distant mountain range. Where the hell where they and why? What did he want with her?

And more importantly, what had he done with those handcuffs?

She found them in the back pocket of the pants he’d removed and left folded on a chair in the bedroom. She slid them out, along with the key, and held them behind her back. Held her breath.

She crept to the bed on bare feet, heart thudding in her ears. Opened one chromed bracelet very slowly, careful not to jingle the chain. Then the other. The first one would wake him and she’d have to get the other one on before he could gain control of the situation. He was strong and quick.

She decided to start with the arm stretched across her pillow, then she could sit on the other one until she got it fastened.

Deep breath. She lifted one leg—doable, thanks to all that yoga—and spanned him with it. Moved the cuff through the air.

Snap. It was on. She crashed down on him, backside on his, yanked his cuffed arm down and cuffed the other.

Hah!

He spun on to his back, knocking her to the mattress, and she scrambled to her knees. He grimaced as the cuffs dug into his back, then shuffled into a sitting position, hands behind him.

His eyes caught her off guard as surprise turned to humor. She realized she was panting audibly, and she tossed her hair out of her face and drew herself up.

Still in just her underwear, she sucked in her stomach. “Where are my dry clothes, you jerk?”

“I forget.” A wicked smile hitched the corner of his mouth. The mouth that used to kiss her into oblivion.

“Never mind, I’m sure I can find them.” She didn’t like to turn her back on him so she eased off the bed and backed away. He shifted position, as if getting comfy. His smile broadened.

“Hey, you look good.”

Against her will, her nipples tightened. She sucked her stomach in a little further as she backed toward the wardrobe.

“You do. Damn.” He grinned at her. “I thought you got all skinny, but you didn’t. You look nice.”

“Stop looking at me!” Suddenly every overly curvaceous inch of her bulged in all directions and she fought the urge to look down. She felt more clear-headed than she had in a month. She’d been strutting around like Madonna in her drunken haze—maybe she was still fat after all?

She ripped open the dark brown closet.

Empty.

“Is the bag in the car?” She mustered a stern, schoolmarm expression.

He nodded, excited grin still spread across his face.

“Don’t look now, but your shorts are bulging. Any minute something’s going to come poking out and there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it.”

“No,” he said wistfully. His eyes drifted over her breasts and belly.

She grabbed a discarded sandal off the floor and brandished it over her shoulder.

He winced.

“Oh, you don’t like pain? Well, let me tell you, you don’t know anything about pain. Someday you should try sitting right on top of the world, then falling all the way off it.”

I did.

Did he say it or did she read it in his eyes?

“Oh, yes, of course, silly me. Poor little Conroy got cheated out of all those lovely millions. How could I forget?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Just regarded her steadily with those dark eyes.

A harsh laugh slipped out. “You’d think the fact that your name is Con would have tipped me off, wouldn’t you? I guess you know a good mark when you see one.”

He shifted on the bed, uncomfortable. Good.

“Well, you marked me alright. I’m a completely different person now. Like I flipped inside out overnight. No one’s going to catch me with my pants down again. Ever!” She slammed her sandal against the wall over his head. He ducked as the shoe fell to one side.

She realized she’d forgotten all about sucking in her stomach, and her breasts heaved with each angry breath. She pulled his shirt off the back of the chair and shoved her arms into the sleeves.