Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal) (6 page)

“You have
one phone call,” a chubby guy in his late forties said in broken English.

I peeled my
aching butt off the cold, concrete floor and marched purposefully for the bars,
biting down a snarky remark.

The
detention cell had been my residency for all of three hours and already it felt
like I had spent most of last month in here. It wasn’t just the pungent smell
of urine and bacteria that made me want to get the hell out as soon as
possible. It was also the fact that not only did no one want to listen to my
story of how I couldn’t possibly be a hooker; they actually weren’t
particularly in a hurry to help me prove my innocence.

One phone call.

Make it count, Hanson.

I followed
the chubby police officer to a desk and tried not to grimace as my fingers
curled around the grubby headpiece of an old phone that had probably seen more
unwashed hands than a public toilet door knob.

Who could I
call?

I had gone
over that decision for hours, mentally scrolling through my limited options,
then discarding of each one as I trudged along. Eventually I knew there was
only one person who’d run down doors to get me back on US soil.

One person
who’d probably get every newspaper and television channel involved to make my
story heard and get me the hell out of this hell hole.

Not least
because this was all her fault.

She hooked
me up with Chase Wright in the first place.

She thought
it was a good idea to marry a stranger, albeit a hot one. And then, when I
called her from the airport and asked where she’d disappear to if she wanted to
hide, she came up with effing Acapulco Beach.

I dialed my
friend Jude’s number, which I knew by heart and listened to the ringing sound
until it went to voicemail.

Apparently
she was too busy to answer, or so her voicemail said.

Trust Jude
to miss one of the most important phone calls of my life.

“Hey, Jude.
This is Laurie again,” I whispered, silently imploring her to pick up. “I know
how this sounds, but it’s not a prank. I’m still in Mexico, in prison. You need
to get me out as soon as possible. Call my lawyer and—”

The line went
dead. Confused, I looked from the finger that had just interrupted my call to
the smirking police officer.

“Your
time’s up.”

“But I
wasn’t done. I—” I swallowed hard and clamped my mouth shut in the
knowledge that the guy was most certainly not up to date with my criminal
status.
I
knew I had done nothing
wrong, but he most certainly didn’t. And even if he did, I doubted that he
cared.

“Fine,” I
mumbled and followed him back to the detention cell, where I curled up on an
uncomfortable chair and pulled my legs to my chest, thinking the chair was less
dirty than the stained and sticky tile floor.

The doors
seemed to open and close at regular intervals. Women came and went, some
cursing, some mumbling, others quiet as zombies. I had tried to talk to the
guards several times, then eventually gave up as I realized I wouldn’t get more
than a glare and a few words I didn’t understand.

“Hanson.”

Through the
fog of tiredness engulfing my brain, it took me a while to grasp that the
strange pronunciation was my name. I struggled to my feet and almost toppled
forward, inwardly cursing the fact that I hadn’t moved from my perched position
in what had seemed like hours. With no windows and no working cell phone, I had
no idea how much time had passed, but I was thankful for the attention.

Someone was
ready to talk to me.

Finally.

“Coming,” I
croaked, my throat sore and dry.

A hand
wrapped around my upper arm and I was guided into the same hall as before. But
instead of turning toward the cluster of offices, we walked past those, through
barred doors into—

The
entrance area.

Holy shit.

My gaze
swept around me in a frenzy.

Were they
really letting me go, just like that?

“Here’s
your stuff. You’re free to go.” A female police officer pushed my handbag into
my hand and quickly retreated, her gawk nervous, frightened even.

Jude hadn’t
come, but she had done it.

A miracle
had happened.

Or she had
really pulled all the strings.

I couldn’t
wait to get to the hotel, pack up and leave, because I couldn’t get home fast
enough to the safety of my boring, jobless and penniless life, and forget all
about the little, embarrassing incident I knew I wouldn’t tell anyone about.

A smug
smile spread across my face. In spite of the stiffness in my bones, I almost
danced out the sliding doors into the hot Mexican—

Midday?

I had been
in there all night and morning?

I blinked
against the glaring brightness as the sun blinded me and bumped into what felt
like a statue.

“Whoa,
steady there, birdie.”

The
voice—so deep, so manly—grated on my nerves and made my blood
freeze in my veins.

It couldn’t
be because it was impossible. And yet—

I lifted a
hand to shield my eyes from the relentless sun and looked all the way up into
gray blue eyes that seemed to shine just as brightly as the sun.

Chase.

Mr. Fucking Liar.

Earth swallow
me up whole!

I was so
shocked I took a few steps back, then turned.

“What are
you doing?” his voice, deep and dark, bellowed behind me.

“I’m going
back.”

“Fuck,
Laurie. No, you won’t.” His hand clutched my shoulder, stopping me in my
tracks.

My hands
balled to fists, and for a moment my anger rendered me speechless, though I
wasn’t sure whether to be angry with myself for calling Jude, with Jude for
possibly calling Chase, or with Chase for not realizing that he was the last
person on Earth I wanted to see.

“What the
hell are you doing here?” I finally managed through cringed teeth.

“No need to
thank me for bailing your ass out of prison.” The corners of his mouth curled
into an arrogant smirk. I didn’t know whether to kiss him or slap that
arrogance right out of him.

“Damn
right, I won’t thank you. In fact, I’d rather go back than see you.” I turned
my back to him, ready to ascend the stairs and disappear back inside. Countless
excuses were already running through my head as how to best to persuade the
police officer to let me back in.

Maybe:

“Remember
the guy who bailed me out? I have absolutely no idea who that is.”

Or:

“I’m too
beat to go back to the hotel. Do you mind if I wait inside so I can think hard
about all the things I did do wrong because, in all honesty, I still don’t
know?”

Actually,
maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. My cell buddy, who I knew for sure was
addicted to crack, had managed to smuggle drugs in, and asked me if I wanted to
help share them around. She had been quite pushy about it, as if the dirty
little packets were no more than herbal tea.

If I were
to choose between dealing with her and Chase, which one should I take?

Obviously
not Mr. Hot Pants.

I dashed up
the stairs and had almost reached the door, when Chase’s hand pressed down on
my shoulder again. “Whoa, Laurie. You think that’s a good idea? They really
want to charge you.”

I stopped
and exhaled a slow breath. “With what?”

“Exposing
yourself in a public place, working as a prostitute, trying to solicit a
client.”

I rolled my
eyes. “Obviously, all not true.”

“I believe
you, but tell that to them.” Chase let out a laugh.

Was that
the slightest hint of glee I detected?

Oh, my god.

He was
laughing at me.

I turned to
face him, my face a mask of fury and burning anger. “Who the fuck do you think
you are turning up here like this, anyway?”

He didn’t
even flinch at my icy tone. “I’m your husband, obviously. And as such, it’s my
duty to make sure you don’t spend the next five years in prison for ‘soliciting
clients’, which I know you’re not guilty of, otherwise I would have
reconsidered my decision.” He leaned forward. At first, I thought he was about
to kiss me, but instead he whispered in my ear, “What did you do? Smash someone’s
car to get a cop pissed at you?”

I scowled
at him. “I did nothing.”

He stood
back, eyeing me in puzzlement. “Are you sure about that? You can be quite
hot-headed?”

“I’m so
not—” I stopped at his smug expression and shook my head. Maybe I
was
a bit hot-headed. So what? “You
don’t believe me?” I said instead.

He let out
another chortle. “At this point I would believe anything, just not that you
were soliciting.” He tugged at a stray strand of my hair.

I flinched.
“Don’t touch me.”

“You had
something stuck in there,” Chase said coolly and held up something pink, then
dropped it to our feet. “I believe it was chewing gum. I don’t need to impose
myself on a woman.”

Of course
not.

Because no
woman in her right mind would decline someone as hot as Chase.

And I was
the lucky one to marry him.

Too bad he
was a lying bastard.

“Oh.” I
glared at him. My gaze met his stunning blue gray eyes and my breathing stopped
for a few seconds.

Wow.

In the
sunlight, his magnetic eyes were even more gorgeous than I remembered.

The last
few hours I had tried to make myself believe that it was impossible for someone
to be so beautiful. That it was all in my mind because I was so damn attracted
to him. That time would open my eyes and help me see him for what he really
looked like.

But now?

In real
life, he was the most beautiful man I had ever met.

He was also
the most wicked—able to transfix people with a mere glance. I wouldn’t
have been surprised to find out that he had hit on someone to get me out.

“It’s great
to see you again, Laurie,” Chase said nonchalantly, oblivious to my glare.

“How did
you convince them to release me?” I asked. “It couldn’t have been easy.”

He cocked
his head, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I have my resources. And as
it happens, I’m also a good actor.”

I snorted.
“Yeah, more like an amateur. You’re not a professional.”

“So, Jude
told you.” He nodded, like Jude’s revelation was no big deal.

I smiled
coldly. “She told me everything.”

“That’s
impossible. She doesn’t know anything about me.”

“Like what?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and peered into his eyes, challenging him.

“Like that
I’m happy to see you again.” His gaze brushed the front of my dirty black
dress. “How’s your vacation been so far?”

I scowled.

He was
making fun of me because he knew it’d get to me.

“Why are
you here?” I asked, ignoring his attempt at rattling at my self-control.

His brows
shot up. “To save you, obviously.”

“I didn’t
need saving.”

“It didn’t
look that way to me,” Chase said gently.

I stared at
him as I tried to read his caged expression. His words carried a deeper layer
to them. I turned around to watch the people walking past, some casting us
interested glances.

“All right,
you win.” I turned back to him and heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m going back
to the hotel, but if you think I’ll say thank you, you’re wrong. I have no intention
of returning home, and particularly not with you. Thank you is about the last
thing you’ll ever hear from me. I’m going home.”

I tried to
wriggle my way past him to call a taxi, but he blocked my way—all hard
body and stony expression.

“You can’t
go home just yet.”

I narrowed
my eyes at him. “Why not? Because you don’t want me to?”

“Look—”
He took a sharp breath and exhaled it slowly, as he prepared his words. “You’ll
have to stay for one week in case they want to investigate.”

Stay in
Acapulco for a week?

After last
night’s incident, I’d fly home and forget all about it or lock myself in my
room out of fear of making another mistake.

“I’m also
forced to stay,” Chase added quickly. “So, it seems we’re both stuck here.”

“Poor you.”

“I’d say
lucky me. I always wanted to see Mexico, and now it looks like we’ll have a
honeymoon, just like every other married couple.”

I scowled
at his words.

Married couple.

“Married
couple, my ass,” I mumbled. “I didn’t need saving, Chase. You shouldn’t have
come.”

“I didn’t
do it for you. I did it for
us
,”
Chase said slowly, and I rolled my eyes. “I’m your husband. Even if we’re only
married on paper and you hate me, it doesn’t change that little fact.”

I gave a
snort. “I don’t hate you. I don’t care for you. That’s all.”

“I doubt
it.” He smiled. “When you were in my bed, you liked me…a lot.”

I snorted.
“That was back
then
. Things have
changed in case you haven’t noticed. I’m different now.”

“No, you’re
not, Laurie.”

I glared at
him, hating the fact that he was right. “You wasted your time coming here.
Maybe I did all that and more.”

“What?”

“All the
things I was accused of,” I said.

A dangerous
glint appeared in his eyes. “You fucked someone?”

I shrugged.
“Maybe. Or maybe I was on a way to a hot date.”

“You
wouldn’t have done that.” His mouth tightened. “We have an agreement.”

“An
agreement which isn’t worth shit because you lied about your name.” I smiled
triumphantly. “For all I know we might not even be married. I mean if Chase
isn’t your name, then I can annul the contract, right?”

“I dare you
to do that and see how far that gets you,” he said coldly.

“What’s
that supposed to mean?”

“That
you’re wrong.”

I raised my
chin defiantly. I was wrong pretty often, but I didn’t need to hear if from
someone as arrogant as Chase. “Wrong about what? That you’re a liar and an
asshole? I think I have you figured out.”

“Wrong
about my name,” he muttered.

“I’m not
wrong. I saw that folder.”

“A folder
that you shouldn’t have read,” he remarked angrily.

“A folder
that showed you’re liar, Chase,” I retorted. “I’m so sorry I’ve ruined all the
bad surprises you had in store for me and discovered the motive why you married
me.”

“Laurie.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders. I expected his grip to be hard. Instead,
it was soft. “You think you know what you’re talking about, but trust me, you
don’t.”

I smiled
bitterly. “I know enough. All I need to know is that you’re a liar.” I yanked
my shoulders out of his grip. “You might own an entire folder containing stuff
that doesn’t concern you, but you don’t know shit about me, Chase,” I said,
unable to control the shrill tone of my voice.

Passers-by
regarded us, curious, but no one commented. No one stopped to ask an obviously
upset female whether everything was okay. I had learned that same lesson last
night.