A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,47

Wheelock Engineering office building, rather than in some garage across the street—was that something you planned?”

Con’s expression darkened. He looked away to the window. “No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “No. I didn’t plan it.”

“So what happened, exactly?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He took a deep breath. “I knew you’d gotten a mistaken impression of what I did for a living. At first I liked that you made all the wrong assumptions about me. That you thought I was successful and educated. It felt good.” He gave her a wary look.

“You were curious to see how well Frankie’s polishing had worked?”

“Yeah, I guess that was part of it, in the beginning. But we were getting more serious, you know, past the flirting stage. I could see myself in a real relationship with you and I figured it was time to set you straight. That was why I asked you to meet me at work. They hired me pretty often and I was hoping to get a full time job there. It was a nice place, neat, well run—” He shrugged. “Anyway, I got held up by a customer, showing him what I’d done to his car, so I was rushed and late and looking out for you while I was still working. I went into the bathroom and cleaned up. When I came out, you were standing across the street outside that office tower.”

He paused, and his eyes took on a shadowed look. “You looked so beautiful. So ladylike and elegant and…perfect. I could tell you thought I worked in that office building.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “When I saw you there I had a weird feeling. I suddenly knew that if I told you the truth about me…I’d lose you.” He shot a dark, piercing glance at her. “And now I know I was right.”

Was he? Her parents would have had a fit if they knew she was seeing an uneducated mechanic. And Maisie. And her so-called friends…

But she could have made up her own mind. Followed her heart.

If she’d had the chance.

“You shouldn’t have tricked me.” Her voice trembled. “You should have let me make my own decision.” She swallowed hard. “When were you going to finally tell me the truth? On our wedding night?” She bit her lip, willed back the tears.

Con swallowed. “I thought that maybe if we were already married…” He looked down.

“I still could have divorced you, you know.” Her voice cracked as she spat the words at him.

He looked down. “I’m sorry Lizzie. You know I am. Don’t cry.”

She avoided looking at him. “I’m not going to cry.” She cleared her throat to get rid of the scratch in her voice. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. And just because you let me wait there for forty-five minutes while you stood across the street watching me and waiting for me to leave—” She gulped a shaky breath. “You are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“It’s bare wood.” He tilted his head and looked at her with those big dark eyes that so easily turned her into a sucker.

“It’ll be just like home, back in the shack.” She fixed her eyes on him, steeled herself against all emotion. “Which we’ll be visiting tomorrow with the camera crew.”

Con sat up like a shot. “What?”

“You didn’t think we’d come all the way down here and not visit scenic Mudbug Flats?”

Con stared at her, his mouth slightly open. Blinked. “Why?”

“So I can see where you come from. Meet your family.” She rolled onto her side and tried to look relaxed. “It wouldn’t be a real wedding without family. And unfortunately mine are temporarily indisposed.” She extended into what she hoped looked like a casual stretch. “I tried to track Mom down at the ashram, but she’d left. Gone to climb a mountain or something. Probably scaling Mount Everest with Martha Stewart.” Her voice sounded flat. “Anyway, we’d better get dressed for dinner. Formal, remember? Glittering candelabra, plates laden with local delicacies.”

Why did Con still have that strange expression on his face? He was truly rattled.

Good. He deserved it.

Tension crackled through her as she eased herself up of the bed and padded across the polished wood floor to the closet.

She slid a blue spaghetti strap dress off the hanger, spread it on the bed and removed her clothes. She could still sense Con’s eyes on her as she stripped

His silence was creeping her out. Was he really so afraid to go back