A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,58

day. Sometimes several times. So easy, warm, inviting. A blissful connection and shared release.

Don’t think about it.

She tossed again, dragged the sheet over her. She could still hear laughter from downstairs. The crew were whooping it up and having a great time. They were all young, free and single—like her—except that she wasn’t really like them. Money had stood like a wall between herself and other people. She’d never had those easy, comfortable friendships other people her age enjoyed.

Except with Con.

“You okay, babe?” His murmured question startled her. Had he somehow heard her thoughts?

“Of course,” she snapped. “Go to sleep.”

And he did. Within minutes she heard his breathing slow and deepen. When she leaned over the edge of the bed, incredulous, she watched his broad chest rise and fall in the bright moonlight. He lay on his back, sinewy arms at his sides, totally relaxed. Expensive dark designer briefs hugged a bulge that suggested he might already be enjoying a good dream. Long muscled legs extended carelessly over the floor as if he lay cushioned on a cloud.

How on earth did he do it?

She wondered what lay in store for them at his real ancestral homestead. His obvious apprehension made her nervous. Wasn’t that just what she wanted? She’d come here to rub his nose in the humble roots he’d so artfully concealed. To blow his cover on national TV and punish him for his deception?

Now they were here he didn’t even put up a fuss about going. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t seem embarrassed like she’d expected.

She couldn’t figure him out. Which was, of course, how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place.

She didn’t sleep a single second all night long. In the morning her neck was killing her and her head ached. Con hadn’t moved a muscle. Just lay there, lips slightly parted, relaxed expression on his revoltingly handsome features, big sexy body sprawled on the bare wood.

She’d just decided to accidentally step on his hand on her way to the closet, when a knock on the door jolted him from his unseemly repose.

He flew onto the bed and flung his arm over her. “Come in.”

She resisted the urge to elbow him off, grateful for his quick reflexes. Honed, no doubt, while scrambling out women’s bedroom windows.

“Maisie!” She pulled the sheet up higher and tried not to recoil from those all-seeing ice-blue eyes.

“Don’t you two look cozy, sorry to interrupt.”

Con had circled Lizzie with his arm and snuggled against her, spoon fashion. She could feel a sizeable morning erection against her butt.

“That’s okay.” Con spoke lazily. “We’re practically in-laws, aren’t we, Maisie?” She could feel his smile and it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“So true. What a sweet thought.” Maisie snapped on a smile. “I’d love you to come down for breakfast, darlings, though I can see Lizzie needs some attention from Raoul first.”

Lizzie cringed. Her flattened hair probably stuck out all over like a Vandergraf generator and she could pack her new wardrobe in the bags under her eyes.

“We did have rather a wild night,” she managed.

Con buried his face in the back of her neck and kissed it. “Maisie doesn’t want to know what we were doing all night.”

Oh, she’d eat it up like pie, believe me.

“You’re right sweetheart. Sometimes I forget myself when I’m with you.” She settled her hand possessively on his big thigh. Steeled herself against the delicious spicy warmth of him at her back. He deserved full marks for playing along.

Maisie’s smile remained firmly in place. “I’ll send Raoul up. Oh, and Con, if you want to go shirtless again, that’s just fine.”

“You don’t have to really go shirtless, you know.” Lizzie sat in front of the dressing table mirror, trying to get the comb through her snarled hair.

“I’m a performer under contract. I wear what the director tells me to.”

She glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Was he smiling? “Well, I’m the real director here and I’m telling you to wear a shirt.”

“What if I don’t want to?” He buckled his black leather belt.

“If you don’t want to, then don’t,” she snapped. “I just think it’s rather undignified.” The waistband of his Italian slacks sat low enough to reveal the top of the fine line of black hair below his belly button. Low enough to be unpleasantly suggestive.

“Since when are you concerned about me being dignified? I figure this whole trip is designed to rob me of any false dignity