by Cathie Linz
Since Faith couldn’t think of something stinging and brilliant to say, she turned her back on Caine and looked for Yuri again.
Removing her earbuds, she called out, “Yuri, I need you.” The doorman quickly appeared at her side. He was a stocky man built like a wrestler. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
Faith nodded. “This man is giving me a hard time.”
“Yo, Bentley, is that you?” Caine said.
Yuri glared at Caine before blinking. “Hunter? Caine Hunter? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Me? What about you?” Caine slapped him on the back. “What’s with the uniform? What happened to your dress blues, Gunny?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“You two know each other?” Faith had to ask, even though the answer seemed obvious.
Caine nodded. “Bentley here was a Marine. Semper fi.”
She turned to look at her doorman. “You were a Marine?”
Yuri shrugged. “Like I said, that was a long time ago. Nearly ten years.”
Faith eyed both men suspiciously. “Did you pay Yuri off to say he knew you?”
Her question was directed to Caine, but both men gave her an offended look.
“What?” she said.
“You don’t pay someone off to say they were a Marine,” Caine stated.
“Why not? Yuri does a lot of community theater work. He’s a good actor.”
“I’m just starting out,” Yuri said modestly.
“He was an extra on an episode of ER last year,” she said.
Caine frowned. “Gunny, you’re an actor?”
Yuri nodded sheepishly.
“Why are you calling him Gunny?” she asked.
“He was a gunnery sergeant in the Marines.”
“What about you?” Yuri asked Caine. “I thought you’d be a lifer.”
“It was time. I had important business here at home that I had to take care of.”
“It must be something really important to make you leave the Corps.”
“Affirmative. My mission here doesn’t get any more urgent or more personal.” Caine’s look made it clear to Faith that no one and nothing would get in his way.
Yuri said as much. “You always excelled at getting the mission accomplished.”
“His mission is deeply flawed,” Faith said.
Yuri looked at her in surprise. “You know the nature of his mission?”
She nodded.
“How did you obtain that piece of intel?” Yuri asked.
“Caine told me himself,” she said.
“Is that right?” Yuri asked Caine.
Caine nodded.
Yuri shifted uncomfortably. “Uh . . . this seems personal between the two of you.”
“You could say that.” Caine’s voice was curt. “Her father is responsible for my father’s death.”
“That’s not true,” she vehemently denied.
“It is true,” Caine said. “And I aim on proving it.”
“And I aim on proving you wrong,” Faith said.
“You’re welcome to try, Sunshine, but you’re bound to be disappointed.”
“Yuri, do not let this man into my building.”
“So you own the entire building now, do you?” Caine said.
“This is private property, and you have no business trespassing on it,” Faith said.
“I’m standing on a public sidewalk,” Caine pointed out.
“I’ve got to go or I’ll be late,” she muttered.
“Late for your new job working for your daddy? Why don’t you just admit it? You were working for him all along.”
“I’m not admitting anything to you. You’re the one who lied to me continually.” Her eyes widened as a new possibility occurred to her. “Wait a second. What about that guy who was choking at the hotel that first day? Was he your plant? Did you pay him to pretend to choke so you could save the day and get my attention?”
“No, but that would have been a good idea.”
You, sir, are a blackheart and a cad. Okay, she had to stop channeling Jane Austen here. The problem was that Faith had never been good at insults. She’d never really had the need before.
It’s not as if she hadn’t heard plenty of salty language in Las Vegas. But she’d never bothered to pay attention to it. The words had gone in one ear and out the other.
She wished the same could be said about the things that Caine said. But no, those phrases stuck like Super Glue. What had he called her? Sunshine? It hadn’t sounded like a compliment. It had sounded both condescending and demeaning.
Faith stepped off the curb only to be yanked back by his hand on her arm.
“Careful, Sunshine. You don’t want to throw yourself under a car on my account.”
“I’d rather throw you under a car,” she muttered.
“I’m sure you would.”
“I mean if I were a violent person, which I’m not.”
“You’re just a crack shot.”
“I don’t go around shooting people.”
“Not yet anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Children’s librarian by day, tough PI by night. Not your usual combination of professions.”
“You already know that I’m no longer a librarian.”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine. Once a librarian, always a librarian.”
“How would you know?”
“I’m good at reading people.”
“Right. Is that why you trailed the wrong person that last day in Positano? Because you’re so great at reading people?”
“I said I was good, not great. But hey, if you want to say I’m great, that’s okay with me.”
“You’re neither good nor great at anything.”
“You know, a more sensitive guy might be hurt by those words. Good thing I’m not sensitive.”
“I can’t imagine a less sensitive human being on the entire planet.”
“That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”
“Go away.” She put her earbuds back in.
He gently removed one of them to tell her, “That’s a good way to get your wallet stolen, holding your purse like that.” He waved her wallet at her.
She grabbed it back from him. “Are they teaching pick-pocketing techniques in the Marine Corps now?”
“Any rookie knows that you always secure your valuables.” He lifted the strap over her head and shifted the bag so it was across her body instead of hanging from one shoulder.
When his hand brushed over her breast, he looked as stunned as she felt. Her body was still humming disloyally from the mere touch of his hand on her arm earlier. Now her hormones were on full alert and sizzling.
What was wrong with her? Did all jilted brides feel like this? Somehow she doubted that. Or if they did, it was because of their fiancé’s touch. Not a stranger’s.
But Caine didn’t feel like a stranger. Had Megan been right when she’d wondered if Faith had fallen in love with Caine at first sight? If that were true, then Faith had better get over it pronto.
You’d think that finding out that Caine had been sent to Italy to seduce her would be enough to make her immune to his sex appeal. But noooo, her rebellious hormones continued to rock ’n’ roll. Jane Austen would be so ashamed. So would Jennifer Garner.
“Leave me alone.” She marched off.
He ambled right along behind her.
She turned and confronted him. “Stop following me.”
“I’m not.”
“You already know I’m headed for work.”
“So am I. We can walk together.”
“No, we can’t. You are not going to harass anyone at West Investigations, including me.”
“I’m just heading for work.” He held out one arm in a sweeping gesture meant to invite her to go ahead of him. “You go ahead.”
“I will.”
She walked two blocks with him behind her. She could feel him eyeing her derriere, which
made her self-conscious. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was also quickly getting a blister from the stilettos. She should have worn the Keds.
He followed her all the way to the building housing West Investigations.
She turned, ready to berate him for his idiotic behavior, when he smiled at her and said, “You do remember that King Investigations is located across the street from West Investigations, right?”
Damn, Faith had forgotten that for the moment. She said nothing but did bestow a look intended to reduce him to meaningless status. Caine’s confident grin told her that he wasn’t impressed.
The man had fooled her once. He wouldn’t get a second chance.
“I can’t believe you quit your job at the library,” Gloria Gibbs said.
Faith eyed her father’s long-time administrative assistant cautiously. “You’re not going to lecture me, are you?”
“Moi? Never.”
Faith had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing out loud. Gloria looked like Oprah during her heavier phases and, like Oprah, she enjoyed administering what Gloria called “suggested paths to a better life.”
“I see you’re wearing red today.” Gloria nodded approvingly. “A good power look. And my signature color.” She patted the lapel of her vibrant chili pepper red pantsuit jacket. “But those shoes.” Gloria shook her head. “What were you thinking?”
“These are my kick-ass stilettos.”
“You kick anyone’s ass in those, and they’ll have to go to the hospital for stab wounds. Are you wearing them because of Alan?”
“Why does everyone think that my every move or decision is caused by some man?”
“Did I hit a tender spot?”
Faith nodded.
“Does it have anything to do with the fact that your father told me to call security should a certain Caine Hunter show up on the premises?”
“What?”
“Your tender spot and killer shoes—”
“Have nothing to do with Caine or Alan. I am capable of making my own decisions, you know.”
“Right.”
“Okay, I do admit that some of the—”
“—crap,” Gloria inserted.
“Some of the crap I’ve been through in the past week or so has been life changing.”
“I approve of you taking that trip to Italy on your own, by the way,” Gloria said.
“It was cowardly of me to take off like that.”
“No way. It was brave of you. You wanted to go to Italy, so you did. Nothing cowardly about that. Getting back to the subject of work, I really don’t know why your dad wants me to show you around, you already know where everything is. Here’s your new office.”
“Office? I thought I’d have a cubicle or something.”
“A cubicle? For the owner’s daughter? Surely not.”
“Whose office was it?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I don’t want to move someone else out. Just give me an empty cubicle someplace.”
“But your father . . .”
“I’ll deal with my father. Is he in?”
Gloria shook her head. “He has back-to-back off-site meetings all morning.”
“Good.” She saw an empty cubicle near the windows. “Is that one open?”
Gloria nodded.
“Great.” Faith made her way over.
“Do you believe the boss’s daughter booting Lawler out of her office?” The young woman speaking had her back to Faith. “I guess those are the perks you get when your daddy owns the company.”
“Actually, he and my uncle have joint ownership,” Faith said. “And I’m not booting anyone out of their office.”
“She wants to be your cubicle buddy instead,” Gloria took obvious pleasure in saying. “Faith West meet Abs Boyce.”
“Abs?” Faith said.
“Short for Abigail,” Gloria said. “Isn’t that right, Abs?”
“That’s right.” Abs looked as tough as she’d sounded. No girly ruffles for her. Her dark hair was cut short and her side part accentuated her narrow face. Her expression was defiant, reminding Faith a bit of a four-year-old who refused to participate during story time at the library.
Faith wanted to reassure Abs that she wasn’t here to make trouble for anyone. But she had the feeling Abs wouldn’t believe her. She seemed the type who preferred proof to promises. That was a goal that Faith hoped to achieve. Maybe Abs could teach her a thing or two.
“I’m here to learn,” Faith said.
“I’m here to work,” Abs said.
“Right. Me too,” Faith said.
“Really? What are you working on?”
Okay, Abs had her there. “What are you working on?”
“Too many cases.”
“I can help.”
“You think so? Fine. Here.” Abs handed her a pile of files. “Log in and get started.” She pointed to the computer. “You do know how to log in, right?”
Faith not only knew how to log in, she finished working on the pile of files within an hour. “What’s next?” she asked Abs.
“You’re done with all those cases?”
Faith nodded. “I guess you didn’t hear that in addition to my father being one of the owners of this business, I’m also one of the best researchers in background checks.”
“And Faith’s entry was also one of the finalists in the Pimp My Bookcart contest,” Gloria said proudly as she passed by with a fresh cup of coffee from the staff room nearby. “What?” This as Faith gave her a look. “I’m just saying—”
“That was in my past life,” Faith said.
“What is a Pimp My Bookcart contest?” Abs appeared intrigued then suspicious. “Did you make that up?”
“It’s a contest where book carts are decorated, sort of the way people decorate parade floats. Check it out for yourself,” Faith said. “Go ahead. Google it.”
“I will.” Abs quickly typed on her keyboard. “Wow. I’m impressed.” She seemed to be telling the truth.
“Yes, well I was just part of a team that created that. Just like I want to be part of the team here. I could clearly learn a lot from you if you’d be willing to teach me.”
“Show me how to pimp up a cart for the staff break room and you’ve got a deal.”
Faith returned home to find her new bed and mattress set up just as she’d requested. She loved it when things went according to plan. Heading straight for her linen closet, she dug out the floral sheet set that Alan had said was “too girly” and refused to let her use.
Dancing across the bare cherry-stained hardwood floor, she put her sheets on her bed. Hers. All hers. Only hers.
When she shifted the nightstand a bit, something fell onto the floor. She glared at Alan’s compact discs before scooping them up and taking them into the kitchen where she dumped them into a Restoration Hardware shopping bag. Then she spent the next hour scouring the condo looking for other hard-to-find things he might have left behind—like the beer making kit she found in the back of her kitchen cabinet or the mustache trimming kit hiding in the bottom of the linen closet. Not that Alan actually ever had a mustache, but he wanted it in case he decided to grow one.
She gathered it all up and was tempted to just dump it in the garbage. Kick it to the curb. Instead, she took what she considered to be the more responsible adult choice and carried the bag down to Yuri’s station in the lobby. Then she took out her BlackBerry and texted Alan for the first time since the botched wedding.
“Have left final bag of your stuff with my doorman. Have someone pick up in 24 hours or it all goes.”
She was responsible but not a saint. She wasn’t going any further out of her way than this. The ball was in Alan’s court now. She was done.
“If someone doesn’t come in twenty-four hours to pick this bag up, just get rid of it.” She handed the shopping bag to Yuri and felt ten tons lighter.
“Okay.”
“So you and Caine really do know e
ach other?” Faith said.
Yuri nodded.
“I can still count on you keeping him out of this building, right?”
Yuri appeared insulted by her question. “Of course.”
“I’m sorry, but I had to ask. I mean, you two go way back, apparently. And you probably have some secret handshake Marine thing going on.”
“Yeah, we share Secret Decoder Rings,” Yuri said dryly.
“I’m sorry. I sounded condescending, and I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s okay.”
Faith casually inquired, “So, was Caine always as impossible as he is now?”
“I don’t know what he’s like now, but he was a rock when I knew him.”
“Unemotional, you mean.”
“The words Marines and emotions aren’t usually used in the same sentence.”
“Right.”
“By rock I meant you could count on him, put your life in his hands, and he’d have your back.”
Caine had had more than her back; he’d had her entire body. And she couldn’t seem to forget what that felt like.
She looked down at her BlackBerry and was startled to find a text message from Alan. “Give me more time.”
She instantly texted back, “NO.”
To which he instantly texted “Be reasonable.”
Reasonable? She stared at the screen. How could she have thought this was the man she wanted to marry? What did that say about her judgment? That she was an idiot.
“24 hours,” she texted back. “Or your Wagner operas CD collection is smoke.”
Then she programmed her BlackBerry to ignore any more messages from Alan.
“Bad news?” Yuri asked.
“If someone doesn’t pick up that bag in twenty-four hours, can you see that it’s donated to Goodwill? Or thrown away. Whatever.”
“Sure. No problem.”
Faith sighed. “Could you tell Alan was an ass?”
“Let’s just say he wasn’t at the top of my Facebook friends list.”
She blinked. “Yuri, you’re on Facebook?”
“Sure. Isn’t everyone these days? Great networking for my acting friends and me.”
