Mad Bad and Blonde

by Cathie Linz

  “He’s not,” Faith said.

  “You mean you dragged him into the corner?” Gram raised an eyebrow. “Well, I heard you were becoming more forceful since returning from Italy.”

  “There was no dragging done by either one of us.”

  “So what are you two doing here? If you plan on getting intimate, you should really go get a room.”

  “That is not going to happen.”

  “I’m no prude, but I don’t think you two should be making out in the corner.”

  “We weren’t. We’re not going to.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Working.”

  “Working?”

  “Are you meeting Dad for dinner, Gram?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “This is my favorite restaurant. I was going to meet Zoe. You know her. I play bridge with her. Anyway, she just called and canceled.”

  Faith was so focused on her grandmother that she didn’t see Buddy until he joined them at the now-crowded table. “What are you two amateurs up to now?” Buddy demanded.

  “Who are you?” Gram demanded.

  “Buddy Doyle at your service, ma’am.” To Faith and Caine he said, “I’ve got a table a few feet from here. You can still see your mark, but you won’t be drawing attention to yourselves.”

  “Do you work for West Investigations?” Gram asked.

  “No, I run my own operation. And I do a better job of it than these two youngsters.”

  Gram took offense at Buddy’s words. “My granddaughter is very good at what she does.”

  “Nonsense.” Before Gram could get more upset, Buddy added, “You’re much too young to have a granddaughter.”

  Faith’s grandmother smiled. Her spiky haircut was softly styled, and the Chanel suit she wore gave her an elegant look. Instead of a string of pearls, she wore a button on her lapel that said Save the Polar Bears.

  “Shall we move now before we generate more attention?” He pointed to his table. He was right. It did have a better vantage point. The greenery shielded their move.

  Once at his table, Buddy gallantly held out a chair for Faith’s grandmother. “You know my name now, but I still don’t know yours.”

  “Ingrid West.”

  “Ingrid. That’s a lovely name.”

  “It’s Swedish.”

  “I know.”

  Caine nudged Faith, who stood there in disbelief, watching Buddy flirting with her grandmother. “Sit,” he said.

  He belatedly held out a chair for her.

  She sat.

  Caine took the seat next to her.

  Buddy opened the menu, gave it a quick once-over and slapped it back onto the table. “Who can afford to eat at a place like this?”

  “I’d be glad to treat you,” Ingrid offered.

  “That’s kind of you, ma’am, but I could never take money from a woman. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “I’ll buy you dinner,” Caine said.

  Buddy hurriedly grabbed the menu. “In that case, I’ll have the filet mignon.”

  Faith could practically see Caine gulp. The filet was one of the most expensive things listed, with a price of over forty dollars.

  “And I’ll have the Caesar salad to begin,” Buddy continued.

  There went another eight dollars.

  Caine put on his war face, and Buddy decided not to push him any further.

  Until it came time to order drinks. “I’ll have whiskey, neat,” Caine said.

  “Make that two,” Buddy said.

  Caine yanked the menu from him and handed it to the server.

  Faith tried not to grin as she ordered the grilled salmon for her grandmother and herself. “We’d like a separate bill for the two of us.”

  “Wipe that smile off your face, Sunshine,” Caine whispered in her ear. “Your dad’s got company.”

  Her gaze darted to her father’s table. He was standing to welcome a beautiful woman with an intimate smile. The woman had the smile, but now her dad did too.

  That was no way to smile at a client. Maybe she was an old family friend that Faith didn’t know about? Just back in town after years away?

  “Who’s that woman with your father?” Gram demanded.

  “A client,” Faith immediately said.

  “Really?” Gram didn’t sound convinced. Didn’t look convinced either. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Is that why you didn’t want to join him? Because he was having a business dinner?” Gram said. “Then why were you two spying on him?”

  “We weren’t spying. Dad wouldn’t approve of me eating dinner with Caine,” Faith said.

  “That’s true,” Gram said. “But I like you,” she added, patting Caine’s hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “But that could change in a split second if you mess up,” Gram warned him.

  “Understood.”

  “She knows the Swedish mob,” Faith told Caine.

  “They are better than the Finnish mob,” Buddy said, for which Gram gave him a look of deep gratitude.

  “Thank you,” Gram said. “I’ve been trying to tell my family that, but they don’t believe me.”

  “Young people these days.” Buddy shook his head. “They think they know everything when they really know nothing.”

  “Even worse, they think we know nothing,” Gram said.

  Buddy nodded. “Pitiful, isn’t I? And wrong on so many levels.”

  “You’re a very smart man, Mr. Doyle.”

  “Oh, call me Buddy, please.”

  “Is there a Mrs. Doyle?” Gram asked.

  “My wife, bless her soul, passed away ten years ago.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. My husband died several years ago as well.”

  “You have my deepest sympathy.”

  “Thank you.” Gram smiled at him. “That’s kind of you.”

  “So what are you doing here, Buddy?” Faith said.

  “Trailing you two,” he readily admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Curiosity.” He returned his attention to Faith’s grandmother. “As you could tell from my earlier comment, I don’t usually frequent places like this. I’m more a corned beef and cabbage kind of guy. Have you ever had it at O’Sullivan’s?”

  Gram shook her head.

  “Oh, you are really missing something special. Would you care to accompany me there some evening for dinner?”

  Faith couldn’t believe how fast the guy moved. She’d had him pinned as a grumpy old guy in his gray cardigan. Yet here he was in a black suit, white shirt and green tie with little dark shamrocks on it. She was impressed.

  So was her grandmother. “That sounds lovely, Buddy.” She beamed at him.

  Buddy beamed back.

  “Are you going to let him get away with this?” Caine whispered in her ear.

  She shivered. His lips brushed her skin through the silky cover of her hair.

  “Did you check him out?” Caine added softly.

  “Look at those two lovebirds,” Buddy said. “Whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.”

  Faith shook her head to both Caine’s question and Buddy’s teasing comment.

  When Caine moved his hand to Faith’s thigh under the table, she nearly jumped out of her seat.

  “You okay, hon?” Gram asked.

  “Fine.” She shoved Caine’s hand away and gave him a stern look filled with furious warning. No way was she having an orgasm in front of her grandmother. Faith would be in therapy for years. Decades. She’d never recover.

  Faith couldn’t relax for the rest of the meal. Part of her was keeping an eye on her father and his dinner date. No inappropriate touching there that she could see.

  No inappropriate touching from Caine either. Both he and Buddy behaved with gentlemanly manners.

  But Faith still couldn’t let her guard down. What if her grandmother told her dad about this dinner with Cai
ne? What if Gram told him that Faith and Caine seemed to be spying on him? What if Buddy took Gram out on a date? Faith would have to do a background check on him as soon as she got home. Unless she checked her BlackBerry now and did a search. The disapproving look Gram shot her when Faith reached for her phone had her putting it back in her new leather tote. No more Golden Book tote bags for her.

  You are a confi dent, competent professional investigator, she silently told herself over and over again. You know what you’re doing and are good at it.

  Too bad Faith didn’t believe a word she was silently saying, no matter how many times she said it.

  Faith considered the fact that Abs had invited her to the newest trendy hot spot for drinks after work on Thursday to be a positive sign. Ever since Abs had given Faith the Haywood case, Abs had seemed increasingly suspicious of Faith’s motives for working at West Investigations. Maybe Faith was just being paranoid. She really did want to be more like Abs, who had the ability to remove any emotional attachment to a case. Abs had the kind of natural cynicism that came in very handy in this line of work.

  Abs held the door open and motioned Faith inside, where the bold lime green, hot orange and azure blue light panels against the walls provided a colorful backdrop to the curved bars. Given the cutting-edge decor, Faith was surprised to hear classy crooner Frank Sinatra singing about doing things his way.

  Abs was clearly no stranger to the place. “It’s cocktail night,” she said before leading Faith to a small table along one wall beneath a lime green light panel. “You’ve got to try their Mounds martini.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A chocolate martini with coconut rum.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ve had their Kobe beef sliders, if you’re hungry,” Abs said.

  Her comment reminded Faith of Caine telling her he wouldn’t have pegged her as a slider girl. She hadn’t heard or seen Caine for two days now, not since her grandmother had caught them in the corner and Buddy had joined them.

  “I’m not hungry.” Liar, liar. She was hungry for Caine—for his kiss, for his touch. She crossed her legs and uncrossed them again at the erotic memory of his under-the-table moves.

  “You okay?” Abs asked.

  Faith nodded before turning the spotlight onto Abs. “So, where do you see yourself five years from now?”

  “Why?” Abs asked suspiciously.

  “No reason. Just making conversation.”

  “Then where do you see yourself five years from now? Married with kids?”

  “Surely you’ve heard that I didn’t have very good luck in the marriage department. I’m focusing on my career now.” The firm statement was meant as much for herself as for Abs.

  “Me too.”

  “You’re very good at what you do,” Faith said. “I’m really envious of the way you’re able to stay so focused. You don’t seem to hesitate or question yourself.”

  “Hesitation is for wimps, and I’m no wimp.”

  “Right. I’m not a wimp either,” Faith said.

  Abs didn’t appear convinced about that.

  “I’m not.” Faith took a large sip of her Mounds martini. “Mmmm good.”

  “Nice girls don’t get the corner office . . . unless they are the boss’s daughter.”

  “I didn’t take the corner office. I turned it down.”

  “Which proves my point,” Abs said. “Nice girls don’t get the corner office.”

  “I’m not always nice.”

  Abs’s expression was skeptical.

  “I’m not.”

  “Name one time when you were mean.”

  “This afternoon I didn’t hold the elevator for a guy.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I know it was mean.”

  “Not even in the ballpark of mean.”

  “You’re not a Cubs fan are you?”

  Abs shook her head. “Baseball is too slow for me. I’m a hockey fan.”

  “I’ll have another one of these Mounds martinis,” Faith told the server as she walked past. “I can be tough,” she told Abs.

  “Yeah right.”

  “You could teach me to do better.”

  “I’m not sure you have the natural ability required.”

  “Sure I do,” Faith said. “I might not have in the past, but I’m mad, bad and blonde now.”

  “Toughness isn’t a matter of hair color.” Abs took a sip of her own drink. “Did you cry watching Marley & Me?”

  “Of course. Who wouldn’t?”

  “I wouldn’t. That’s why I’m tough and you’re not.”

  “That can’t be the only requirement. I ran the Chicago Marathon one year.”

  “That’s not tough. That’s a waste of time.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Getting engaged to Alan was a waste of time.”

  “Love stinks.”

  “I know. I have the song on my breakup CD. My cousin Megan burned it for me.”

  “That was nice of her,” Abs said.

  “Yeah, she’s very nice.”

  “Just like you.”

  Their argument continued as Faith polished off two more martinis.

  Caine was sitting in a tavern with Buddy and Weldon going over details of his father’s case when his cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he saw it was Faith. She never called him.

  “I’m calling about Faith,” a strange woman said. “Your number is listed as her ICE.”

  Caine had entered his number in her ICE—in case of emergency—contact file on her BlackBerry himself back in Italy.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “She’s had a few too many Mounds martinis. I called the first number listed for her ICE contact but got her mom’s voice mail, so I called you. I’d just put her in a cab myself, but I don’t know her address, and she’s not real clear on that info at this point. I could get her address from her driver’s license, but I’d feel better if someone she knew well took care of her. Can you come get her? I don’t even know your name.”

  He had no intention of telling her his name. “Where are you?”

  She told him.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Caine said.

  “A problem?” Buddy asked.

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Sorry to cut this short.”

  “No problem. Go do whatever you have to do.”

  Caine had no trouble finding Faith in the trendy martini bar. She was dancing by herself to Dean Martin’s “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head.” He used the term dancing loosely, as it actually looked like she was just bouncing around not quite in time to the music.

  He could tell by her loopy smile that she was totally out of it. “Caine!” She threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. “Tell Abs that I can be a real bad girl. Tell her I’m touch. Er tough.”

  “She’s tough,” Caine said, keeping an arm around Faith as he grabbed her purse and led her toward the door.

  “Bye, Abs.” Faith wiggled her fingers over her shoulder.

  “Wait,” Abs called out. “Aren’t you Caine Hunter? I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to take her—”

  “It’s fine,” Caine told Abs in his that’s-a-direct-order voice. “She’s safe with me.”

  The place was crowded, but at his dangerous scowl, the upscale clientele parted to give Caine a path to the nearest exit.

  “They have fancy sliders here,” Faith said.

  “That’s nice.”

  “No, it’s not. And I’m not nice either.”

  “No, you’re drunk. Get in.” He held the Mustang’s passenger door open for her and guided her inside, lifting her legs and swinging them into the car. His fingers lingered beneath her silky thighs as the skirt she wore hitched up.

  Reminding himself that he was not the kind of guy to take advantage of a drunken woman, he tugged her skirt back down to a respectable level and closed the door.

  She opened it again. “Don’t you love that Dean Martin son
g?”

  “Not really.” He shut the door.

  She opened it again. “How come?”

  “I’m more a Guns N’ Roses guy.” He closed the door, and this time he locked it remotely. He’d already activated the kid’s protection option that allowed the driver to control the locks and windows.

  She was leaning halfway across his seat when he got in. “If you don’t like Dean Martin, why did you come here?”

  “To get you.” He drove off before the valet parking attendant could demand a bigger bribe to allow him to temporarily park in front of the trendy place.

  Faith seemed incapable of sitting upright or staying on her own side of the car. He couldn’t get to her condo fast enough. Yuri would be there . . . but he wasn’t.

  “Where’s Yuri?” Caine demanded.

  “He’s off tonight,” the beefcake young guy in the doorman uniform said. “And you can’t park there. The underground parking garage entrance is around the corner.”

  Caine might have trusted Yuri to get Faith upstairs to her condo, but no way was he trusting this cocky dude.

  The garage entrance required a security code. “What’s your password?” he asked Faith.

  “Austen. Jane Austen,” she said in her best 007 voice.

  Once he parked his Mustang, Caine had a hard time getting Faith out of the car. Finally he had to practically lift her out and scoop her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her silky hair brushing his chin. “Nice,” she murmured.

  It was way beyond nice and entering downright dangerous territory. Caine kept his eyes fixed on the elevator ahead of them and not on her cleavage, which was generously displayed the way her wraparound dress had parted.

  He hit the elevator button with his elbow. Thankfully, the doors opened immediately, and he stepped inside. A short ride took them to the lobby, where he had to transfer to another elevator.

  He knew her address from the research he’d done on her back in Italy. She lived on the twelfth floor, unit 1209.

  He slid her to her feet in front of her door. “Where are your keys?”

  “In here.” She jiggled her purse . . . and giggled. He realized then that he hadn’t heard her giggle since before they’d slept together in Italy. He also realized he really missed her giggle. She may have laughed at him after she’d swiped that client by using her Sox fan status, but it didn’t have the charm of her giggle. What had he been talking about before? Oh right, her keys.