A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,55
the room, white pants swishing and heels clicking on the wood floor.
They were left alone with Dino, who shrugged. “Sorry, boss’s orders. Gotta shoot the mess, then I’ll get out of your way.”
Lizzie stepped back, pressing herself into the wall, and Con stood in front of her, shielding her from the camera. Now that Maisie was here, for some reason he didn’t want Lizzie on camera not looking her best. They waited until Dino left with a gruff nod, then Con closed the door.
“The next time we have a lover’s tiff we’ll take it outside?” Lizzie’s voice was shimmering steel.
“Hey, you were the one throwing shoes, not me.”
“I never threw a shoe in my life until I met you.”
“I can tell. You could use some practice.”
“I’m serious. You bring out the absolute worst in me. I was a perfectly respectable person until you came into my life and turned it upside down. I was polite, calm, dignified.” She put her hands on her hips, which caused her to drop the ripped neckline of her dress and reveal her lovely breast. “Now look at me!”
Con struggled to stop the grin sneaking across his face. “You look good to me.”
“Shut up before I hit you.”
“You already did, remember?”
“And you didn’t even flinch. I guess it happens a lot.”
He shrugged.
“Turn me back! Turn me back into that nice, normal person who didn’t go around yelling or throwing shoes at anyone!”
“I’m not a wizard. And if I was I wouldn’t want to change a thing. You’re a woman of fire and passion, an artist, so it’s no surprise if you need to throw a shoe from time to time.”
“I am not! And don’t you dare bring up my art again. Next thing you know they’ll have me painting a car for the cameras.”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I could pick up a nice—”
“Don’t you even think about it!” Her eyes blazed. Any minute now her bra would burst too, he thought hopefully.
“You enjoyed painting that car.”
“I did not.” She lifted her chin.
Don’t push it, Con. “Alright, why don’t you get changed, then we can go down and get some dinner.”
She shot him a glare, and he tried to shrug it off. It honestly hurt that she didn’t respect him. That being smart and resourceful and well read didn’t mean anything. Without a pedigree he really was a nobody to her.
Yes, he’d been naïve.
He still missed their days of warm intimacy. An intimacy underpinned by his deception and destroyed by it.
So she’d brought him here to humiliate him. Sure, it hurt. He wasn’t easy to humiliate—been through far too much already—but hurt, that was another thing. And she didn’t have any idea of the world of pain she’d jacked open by bringing him back down here.
The prospect of visiting his childhood home made him want to run and hide. Not—as Lizzie thought—because it was pokey and run-down, which it no doubt would be, at least by her standards.
Terrible things had happened there.
Was his father still alive? His veins stung with sheer terror at the thought. Here he was, twenty-five years old and still scared to death of the man. How old would he be now? Less than fifty. Even with the drinking there was every likelihood he’d still be there, bloodshot eyes staring and mouth quick with a curse that cut to the bone.
“Aren’t you getting changed?” Lizzie’s voice interrupted his dark memories.
“No, I’m okay.” He brushed some dust off his pants.
“You’re not going to put a shirt on?” She frowned at him, her voice rising.
Oh, so now she didn’t want him walking around shirtless?
“Nope. It’s hot, and I’m in the mood to keep it real.” He shot her a glance and she looked away. “You look nice.” She’d changed into a fresh pair of pale blue capris and a matching flowered shirt. Fresh as a spring flower. The lovely woman he’d hoped would help him forget the past and build a new life.
The woman who’d slapped him down when he told her who he really was. Or wasn’t. And she didn’t even know the half of it.
“Could you help me get this mess into a ponytail?” She held out a white scrunchie.
“Sure.” He took it and smoothed her hair back, gathered it into a single cascading fall, and stretched the scrunchie around it. Doubled it and pulled the hair through again. Smoothed a flyaway strand and tucked it behind her ear.
The kind of intimate gesture he loved. And apparently didn’t deserve to