A Bad Boy is Good to Find (29 page)

She tapped Maisie on the arm and pulled her out of earshot. “Maisie, what’s going on?”

“The Eyewitness News team has been putting pressure on all the right people. They found an old will attached to the property.” Her pale eyes gleamed with manic intensity. “It leaves everything to the owner’s firstborn child. Since it seems Con’s mother was the only daughter of the owner, and she’s dead, it all belongs to Con.”

Lizzie snuck a glance at the gleaming white façade with its double tier of balconies. Holy crap. No real surprise, though.

“The trust is almost completely empty, and they’re starting an investigation into what happened to the money, as apparently there was almost two million in there when the old man died seven years ago. But—” Maisie glanced at Con, “they’ve uncovered other assets in storage, valuable antiques apparently, though at this point no one knows exactly what they are.”

Lizzie didn’t know what to say. Her brioche churned in her gut. “Any word on his brother?”

“Eyewitness News say they’ve had a slew of calls, but what with the inheritance they expect most or all of them are cranks wanting to get their hands on some money. They’re weeding through them.”

“So, um, the wedding, is it still on track for tomorrow?”

“The wedding? Oh, Don wants us to run with this inheritance story and get to the wedding after it’s died down a bit. He thinks this is fresher and will generate more buzz. Roger’s inside rough-cutting some promos already. It’s a perk that Con’s so great looking. I think we’re going to get a lot of attention with this show.”

Now if we could just recast the leading lady…
Lizzie heard a subtext that made her glance down at the outfit she’d carefully chosen. She’d put some weight back on, and both the sage green capris and the turquoise blouse were a little snug. She’d have to keep her face to the camera so they didn’t see a panty line.

Not that it was a pressing problem right now.

Another thought occurred to her. “The lawyer said we probably couldn’t stay into next week. He said it was booked.” What if they decided to drop the wedding altogether?

“Bullshit. That good old boy is sweating bullets right now with the attorney general’s office breathing down his neck. It’s Con’s house, darling! He can stay here the rest of his life if he wants.” Maisie squeezed her wrist. “Isn’t it wonderful!”

“Oh, yes,” she said weakly. “Wonderful.”

The lord of the manor looked very handsome and earnest, talking with the reporter. What on earth were they gabbing about for so long? She couldn’t hear a word.

For someone who’d wanted nothing to do with the past, with the letters, with any claim to the house, Con had slipped into his new role with alarming ease, and she was getting left out in the cold. Or more accurately, in the sweltering, armpit-soaking heat. The blue cooling machines had been carted away, apparently given up as a lost cause. She probably wouldn’t get to feel cool again until she got back to New York.

If she ever did get back to New York.

Of course she was going back to New York.
You’re not going to be living here by his side as lady of the manor. You’ll be lucky if he even goes through with the damn wedding now. He certainly doesn’t need the money. He can sell this pile for a pot of cash and cruise off into the sunset in a brand new gold Mercedes with a brand-new golden-haired mama by his side, no sugar even required
.

She realized she was chewing her nail and pulled her hand sharply away. Damn, it was hard to breathe in this humidity.

Was it possible that Raoul was right and Con really did love her too?

Making love. What a funny expression. They’d done it three times last night. But amidst all the moaning and heavy breathing there had been no professions of undying love.

He was horny.

And she’d gone soft on him.

Sucker.

“Maisie, do you have a minute?” Con wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Where was Lizzie?

“Shoot.”

“Any word on Danny?”

“They’ve had eighty-three calls and more than three hundred emails, though a lot of those are just people who are interested but don’t know anything. I think eight different people have claimed to be Danny.”

Con swallowed. Would he even know Danny after ten years’ absence? He sure didn’t look anything like his scrawny fourteen-year old-self. “Anyway, the PA is updating me every half-hour. They’re going to run something again on the evening news. The story is a local sensation.”

He took a deep breath. “Could I ask you something in total confidence.”

“Of course,” she whispered, moving closer. Her eyes shone. “What is it?”

“Well,” he shoved his fingers through his hair. “I was wondering if, maybe,” he hesitated, his stomach tight. Where had Lizzie gone? “If maybe this story about me trying to find my brother might be enough to earn Lizzie the fifty thousand.”

Maisie’s eyes narrowed and her head cocked to the side like a coyote that just heard a rabbit in the bushes. “You don’t want to go through with the wedding?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that maybe…the timing isn’t right.”

“I can see your point.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Your life is about to change very dramatically, so maybe now is not the time to make any permanent commitments.”

Maisie’s ill-concealed glee at his request deepened the unease in his gut.

“I’ll have to have another chat with Don. We did line up a lot of donations for the wedding, people who are expecting sponsor credit and that kind of thing, but he loves this new long-lost heir/missing brother story. Perhaps we can use the wedding stuff for a follow-up series? A takeoff of
The Bachelor
, where beautiful young women compete for your—”

“Oh no, no that’s not…Um, no. I was just hoping that Lizzie could still get her money if we didn’t do the wedding.”

“I’ll talk to Don. Obviously, the series will need a climax, but since we’ve got two options—you inheriting this place and you finding your brother, I don’t think it’ll be too much of a problem.” She leaned into him, conspiratorial. “Thanks for coming to me, Conroy. I appreciate your trust. I won’t breathe a word to Lizzie.” With a look of compassion, she capped her pen and walked off to talk to one of the news crews.

Con sagged with relief. He hated himself for letting it all come this far. Lizzie didn’t deserve to have her wedding—a once-in-a-lifetime event that should be a person’s most cherished memory—be a cheap fraud for cold cash. He cared for her far too much to marry her under false pretenses. He’d brought her to this low point, and he’d get her out of it without her throwing away her dignity and integrity. If he was going to marry her it would be the real deal, from the heart, and for ever.

“Did Michiko manage to alter the dress yet?” Lizzie couldn’t understand why everyone seemed to have forgotten the reason they were all here.

“Um, I’m not sure.” Maisie seemed preoccupied, scratching something off her clipboard.

“What?” Yes, the power was still off, but surely even if the wedding didn’t take place tomorrow as planned, it would be the following day or the day after that.

“This story about Con’s family is taking up everyone’s time for now. I just got the go-ahead to visit the storage facility where part of Con’s inheritance is being held. We’re heading out there right now.”

“Oh, I guess I’ll get changed.” Lizzie smoothed the front of her wrinkled shirt. She’d spent most of the morning lying on the bed reading a paperback.

“There’s no need. You can stay right here if you want. I’m sure it won’t be all that interesting. Probably just a dusty box of stock certificates or something.” Maisie scratched away at her clipboard.

“I’ll get dressed.” Alarm sizzled along her nerves as Maisie scurried off outside. Suddenly, she’d become totally irrelevant. No one had mentioned a single word about the ceremony. The arbor hadn’t been decorated as planned; there had been no discussion of the intimate wedding banquet happening after the ceremony. It was all Con this, Con that, Con’s brother, Con’s legacy. What about her? She was going to be Con’s wife for crying out loud!

Well, not really
. Her breathing quickened. As far as Con knew, they were still getting a divorce right after the wedding as she’d decreed when she came up with this crazy idea.

She hadn’t breathed a word about her fresh hopes that maybe they could forget about the divorce and…

Live happily ever after?

The house phone rang.

Where the heck was everyone? Probably outside doing more interviews. It certainly was peaceful inside with no power until the phone started ringing. The polished black antique had a painfully loud bell-driven ring. Was no one going to answer it? Her nerves were fraying.

She picked it up. “Hello.”

“May I speak to Maisie Dixon please?”

Ah, she’d know those clipped pompous tones anywhere. “Hi, Dwight, it’s Lizzie.”

“Lizzie, thank goodness. I can’t get hold of Maisie. I’ve left several messages on her cell but she hasn’t returned them.”

“She’s been insanely busy. I’m sure she just hasn’t had time.”

“May I speak to her?”

“Actually, I can see her through the window and she’s talking on her cell right now. Do you want me to give her a message?”

“Um, yes. She left me a message saying she won’t be able to meet me in the Berkshires this weekend as planned.”

“Oh, right. We’re kind of stuck here. A power outage has delayed everything.” That and Con’s past exploding in my face.

“It’s imperative that I speak to her. I’ve been trying to schedule some time with her for weeks now. Months, in fact. She’s been so busy I haven’t been able to… Anyway, I’m coming down there. I’m flying into New Orleans early this evening, and I’ve chartered a car to bring me there. I’m on my way to the airport right now, in fact.”

“Okaaay.”

“According to my itinerary, I should be arriving between 7:00 and 7:15 p.m. central time.”

“I’ll let her know.” Lizzie tried not to laugh. Maisie with her clipboard and Dwight with his “itinerary” really were a perfect match. So self-satisfied and snooty they deserved each other. “See ya later, Dwight.”

He’d love the lack of electricity. And the heat and the bugs. She chuckled. And Maisie probably wouldn’t be too excited about being distracted from her work either. How long had they been engaged? They couldn’t schedule time to have sex, let alone get married. In fact the very idea of them having sex… She shuddered as a vision of reptiles mating crowded her brain.

She pushed up the lower sash of the window. It went up smoothly. The sash-cord must have been replaced in the money-hemorrhaging renovations.

“Maisie!” she called out. About forty feet away, Maisie squinted at her, her phone still pressed to her ear. “Dwight called. He’s flying down today. Got something important to tell you.”

Maisie muttered something into her phone. She strode toward the window. “Today? You mean he’s arriving tonight?”

“Yup. On his way.” She smiled cheerfully.

Maisie’s perfectly smooth forehead wrinkled. “What on earth for? It’s not like I won’t be back next week.”

“He said he’s been trying to schedule time with you for ages, but you’ve been too busy.”

“He knows my job is demanding.” Standing right under the window, Maisie glanced at her clipboard. “It’s my time to build my career. He understands that.”

“He sounded very anxious to see you.”

Maisie’s face brightened and got a strangely distant look. “I have a funny feeling he’s finally going to set the date.”

“Of your wedding?”

“Yes. We’re always waiting until the timing is just perfect, and then of course we’re both so madly busy—” She paused and pressed her pen to her mouth. “I wanted to get married last June, but his company was in the midst of a merger and he had an important bond deal to close. Of course it’s given me more time to research and plan and develop a truly impressive guest list…”

Lizzie glanced sideways into the drawing room, where opened boxes of linen napkins and fine stemware lay gathering dust.

“That’s it, I’m sure of it. We’re going to set the date.” Her eyes gleamed like ice cubes.

“Speaking of which, um, what day are we planning to do my wedding?” Lizzie’s voice came out kind of high and squeaky.

“Um,” Maisie tucked some hair behind her ear. “Has, um Con said anything about…No?”

“Con? What are you talking about?” The knot in her intestines tightened a notch.

“He has been terribly busy. Well, I must go. I need to get directions to the storage facility as we’re driving out there right away. As I said there’s no need for you to come.” Maisie was already turning away and fingering her phone.

“I’m coming.” She slammed down the window for emphasis. Suddenly she didn’t feel like letting Con out of her sight for a single instant.

Con had planned to tell Lizzie the wedding was off on the way over to wherever the hell they were going. Maisie had the okay from Don, and he wanted to get that one mess straightened out. Things were so out of control right now he didn’t know which way was up. People were talking about the house like it was his, and the story about his father and what he’d done to his mom was out there in the news and complete strangers with cameras were asking him questions about things he’d never even dared to think about let alone talk about and…

“So you guys think it’ll be a big chest of treasure or something?” Roger’s jovial voice from the backseat drew him back to reality. As soon as Rog climbed into the car, Con knew his news for Lizzie would have to wait.

“What exactly is it supposed to be?” Lizzie looked distracted and nervous, playing with her watch.

“I don’t know. Some stuff in a lockup. The documents they found didn’t have a list of specifics, just a key.” Con drew the key out of his pocket and dangled it from its soiled string. “Hope it’s not a bunch of skeletons or something.”

“Too right. I never know what’s going to happen around here lately.” Rog shifted his long body in the Jeep’s tiny backseat. “So the house is really yours?”

“So they tell me. There’s an old will involved, dating back to when the house was first built. The house goes to the oldest male of the line, failing that to the oldest female. Primogeniture or something, it’s called. They did a DNA test on me to make sure I’m who I say I am.”