A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,45

hadn’t broken.

“That’s sweet of you. I mean it.” Damn. He was touched. Wanted to give her a hug. Wanted to kiss those warm soft lips he couldn’t get near anymore.

Almost forgot it was part of a scam they were pulling on a cable network and the viewing public.

She turned to him again. “I do hope there are no outstanding warrants for your arrest in the state of Louisiana.”

“Nope. I think the statute of limitations has expired on all of them.” He winked and actually started to relax a little. Who’d have thunk it? Here he was, back in Louisiana, a grown man and master of his own destiny.

Well, not really, but he would be once Lizzie had her fun with him.

He’d been afraid of the whole state for ten years, almost shivering when he heard the name, but now he could fly right in here in a private jet and go about his business.

He stretched and took off his jacket. Folded it up and placed it on the seat beside him. It wasn’t until they drove out of the airport complex and pulled onto the highway that old haunted feeling crept over him again and threatened to suck the life out of him.

He’d left this place to save his own hide, and there was no running from the guilt that came with that choice.

The car drove along quiet back roads for an eternity. A feeling of foreboding crept up on Lizzie like the Spanish moss that engulfed the trees.

Since they’d left the highway the landscape was eerie and desolate and several of the houses they’d passed seemed to be abandoned ruins. Sometimes a new house was built right next to the crumbling wreck of an old one, the past hunkered in the backyard like a ghost. Bayous and deep swamps gleamed through the trees around them.

“So this is where you’re from, huh?”

Con stared out the window, transfixed, silent for most of the ride. “Yeah.”

“It’s kind of creepy.”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of beautiful too.”

“Yeah.”

Con’s slick charm had apparently been left behind in New York and he stared out the window, not talking unless she did first. She was relieved when the car finally pulled onto the promised avenue of live oaks and began its approach to the Dumas Plantation.

“Wow.” Con craned forward to peer out the windshield. The bright white Greek Revival mansion loomed at the end of the driveway, windows shaded by deep verandas on both floors. “It’s huge.”

“It has to accommodate the entire crew, and the wedding will be in either the garden arbor, or the indoor ballroom, depending on the weather.”

“Indoor ballroom.” He smiled. “I like that.”

“And look, there’s the first camera.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and tugged at the hem of her T-shirt, anxiety shooting up her spine. “At least I think that’s a camera.” The lone cameraman looked so unimpressive, no lights, no giant microphones, just a scruffy guy with a camcorder on his shoulder.

A girl with a clipboard came running to the car the moment it stopped. Gia. Breathless and sweaty, her fine hair sticking to her forehead.

Fierce heat and humidity rolled in as Con lowered the window.

“Hey, guys, have a decent flight? Great. That’s Dino, the camera guy. He’s going to take some handheld footage of you arriving as soon as I get out of here, okay, so just act natural, head up to the steps and whatever you do, don’t look at the camera. I’ll meet you inside.” She slammed the door and scurried away without giving them time to get a word in.

“Act natural, but don’t look at the camera.” Lizzie licked her lips. “This should be interesting. It seems so rude not to say hi to the camera guy.”

They climbed out of the car and a weird fake smile attached itself to her lips. She waited for Con to join her, but he’d gone round the back to get their bags. There was some fumbling and muttering with the driver about who’d carry the bags, and Con finally joined her, empty-handed, with his own weird fake smile fixed in place. He offered her his arm, and she took it gratefully.

The walk up the rather cracked driveway took about three hours. At least that’s what it felt like. She could feel her hair bushing out in the sweltering damp air and sweat droplets moistened the skin between her breasts.

“Isn’t it lovely,” she murmured, sounding about as natural as a singing Barbie.

“It’s magnificent,” replied Talking Ken. Oh, lord, this was going to be