Mad Bad and Blonde

by Cathie Linz

  “Get them out,” he said.

  “Okeydokey.” Her bumbled search proved unsuccessful.

  Sighing, Caine took the purse from her, or attempted to, but she refused to relinquish possession.

  “Just wait,” she told him. “Hold your hand out.”

  He reluctantly did so while holding her upright with his other hand on her shoulder.

  “Here.” She leaned against him and started piling things in his hand. Her lipstick, her wallet, pepper spray, her iPod, a paperback romance novel. “I found them!” She dangled them in front of his nose.

  “Great.” He dumped her stuff back in her purse and took the keys to open her door.

  “Why are the walls moving?” she said.

  “Because you drank too many Mounds martinis. What the hell is a Mounds martini anyway?”

  “Chocolate and coconut just like the Mounds candy bars. Yummy.”

  Why was she looking at him when she said “Yummy”? Was she talking about the drink or him? “Where’s your bedroom?”

  She tsked and shook her finger at him. “In your dreams, Mr. Marine.”

  Actually her bedroom had been in his dreams . . . or her bed, to be more exact. With her in it . . . naked on black satin sheets.

  Caine had no trouble finding her bedroom, which was straight down the hall from the living room. He had significantly more trouble getting Faith to go to bed. That’s when he made his first mistake.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The last time Faith had had too much to drink, she’d had too many mojitos with Megan and ended up on a plane to Italy . . . where she’d slept with Caine.

  Now here she was again. Sleeping with Caine.

  She sat up in bed, groaning and clutching her head. They hadn’t had sex, had they? No. She was sure they hadn’t. Pretty sure. Sort of sure.

  Okay, don’t panic. Breathe.

  She wasn’t nude. That was a good thing, right? She was wearing underwear and a baggy White Sox nightshirt that she didn’t remember putting on herself.

  She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in some happy place like the Comfort Café eating blueberry pancakes. Yummy.

  Except she was still a little queasy. Yucky.

  Wait . . . had Caine helped her when she’d thrown up last night? Had he held her hair back from her face when she’d barfed? Had he gently wiped her face with a cool washcloth?

  Yes. She was sort of sure he had. Pretty sure. Damn sure.

  The memories came rushing back. He’d been nice to her. Kind. Caring.

  Why? What was his master plan? And how had he ended up here at her condo anyway?

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken that last question aloud until he answered.

  “Your friend Abs called me.” His voice was husky with sleep, making it sexier than ever.

  “Why?”

  He sat up next to her. The sheet slid down to his waist, revealing his bare chest. “Because she thought you needed help.”

  “But why call you?”

  “I may have been listed as one of your ICE contacts.”

  “No way. I’d never list you.”

  “I entered my name on your list when we were in Italy. In case something happened.”

  She was offended. “You touched my BlackBerry?”

  “Yes.”

  “But we didn’t have sex last night, right?”

  “What? No.”

  “Good. That’s good.” She took a deep breath. “Tell me I took my own clothes off and put this nightshirt on.”

  “You took off your own clothes and put your nightshirt on.”

  “By myself?”

  “By yourself.”

  “Are you lying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do I want to know what happened?”

  “Probably not.”

  She groaned.

  He rubbed her back. “Want some aspirin?”

  “I want a hot shower.” She climbed out of bed.

  So did he. He was wearing jeans that hung low on his hips. “Need some help?”

  She shook her head then wished she hadn’t. “I had no idea chocolate martinis packed such a punch.”

  “How many did you have?”

  “I’m not sure. I wasn’t paying attention. Three, maybe four, I guess. Too many.”

  Faith felt much better after she had a shower and washed her hair. Her purple silk robe slid against her bare skin with soft insistence. Her senses felt as if they were on high alert, and it was all due to the half-naked man on the other side of the bathroom door.

  She supposed she should count her blessings that he hadn’t gone to bed commando. She still vividly remembered his towel falling from his hips at the hotel in Positano, leaving him standing nude before her.

  She still didn’t know why he was sleeping in her bed. That would be her next question. First she needed to brush her teeth for about five minutes. There. Now she was ready to face him. Not that her robe provided much protection.

  To her relief, Caine was no longer in her bedroom. She smelled coffee being brewed. Closing and locking her bedroom door, she quickly got dressed. Today was a workday, and she was running late.

  A pair of black knit pants and a bright turquoise top restored her sense of control, strengthened by the skillful application of makeup. Her hair obediently fell into place, although one section did stubbornly refuse to behave. Exasperated, she tossed down the brush and headed for the kitchen. She needed caffeine.

  Caine handed her a mug with cream and lots of sugar just the way she liked it. His remembering how she liked her coffee shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was. It would be rude to ask him why he’d stayed the night right now. In the end, she didn’t have to, because he told her.

  “You didn’t want me to leave last night, in case you were wondering. You’d only stay in bed if I would stay there with you. Then you got sick, and I couldn’t leave you alone that way,” he said.

  “You were nice to me.”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised.” He propped one hip against her granite counter while he sipped his own mug of coffee. He’d given her the What Would Jane Austen Do mug and kept the Hello Kitty mug for himself. “I can be nice when the situation warrants it.”

  “Yes, but you were nice to me.”

  “I’ve been nice to you before. I helped you with your wings. And helped you take flight at the Geek Meet.”

  “Don’t remind me,” she mumbled into her coffee. “I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe I let you.”

  He just smiled at her. That’s all he did, yet it was as if he touched her intimately all over again.

  She tore her gaze away from the magnetic visual hold he had on her. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late for work.”

  “Same here,” he said before rinsing his mug in the sink and setting it in the dishwasher. Alan never did that. He always left his dirty dishes on the counter for her to clean up.

  Faith had reached the point where she believed Alan had done her a favor by leaving her at the altar. Well, maybe not a favor per se. But she was definitely better off without him. She knew that now.

  She didn’t know how to describe her feelings for Caine. She watched the muscles across his back ripple as he tugged on his T-shirt. She’d barely recovered from that when he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her into the elevator a few minutes later. The bottom line here was that Caine’s effect on Faith was ten times stronger than any Mounds martini could ever be, and she had no idea how to deal with that fact.

  Faith was still trying to recover her equilibrium when she sat down in her cubicle. She had yet to decorate it. The space certainly had none of the tchotchkes of her previous one. There were no posters here. No Jane Austen mugs. No tiaras or magic wands or wings.

  Instead, she had a Wild Words from Wild Women daily calendar, and that was about it as far as personal touches went. Faith dutifully turned the page to today’s quote by Dr. Laura Schlessinger, syndicated radio shr
ink. “If you stick your head in the sand, your butt is in the air.”

  Faith was pondering the ways that applied to her life when Abs joined her in the cubicle. Being Abs, she got right to the point. “If you promise not to tell your father that I got you drunk, then I won’t tell him about Caine.”

  “You didn’t get me drunk. I got myself drunk. Those martinis tasted so good, but I had no idea they were so potent.”

  “Well, sure, if you drink four or five of them on an empty stomach.”

  “I didn’t have five.”

  “That’s irrelevant. The big question here is why was Caine listed as one of your ICE contacts?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Fair enough. But we’re agreed that you won’t tell your father, and I won’t tell your father, right?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Faith said.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me. Are you and Caine working together on his dad’s closed case?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I can understand why. Your father would have a hissy fit if he knew.”

  “You can’t tell him.”

  “So now that’s two things I’m not supposed to tell him,” Abs said. “That you’re seeing Caine and working on his father’s closed case. You’d owe me big time for keeping those things silent.”

  Faith didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Why are you interested in the case anyway?” Abs said. “I mean, I can understand why Caine would find it hard to accept that his dad was guilty, but what’s up with you? You don’t think his dad was innocent, do you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Abs shook her head. “I warned you about getting emotionally involved in a case.”

  Faith didn’t waste her time denying her emotional state of mind. “Haven’t you heard of trusting your gut?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. I just don’t believe in it.”

  “Come on. Surely you’ve had a case where you sensed something was wrong?”

  “You mean like feminine intuition?” Abs scoffed.

  “Intuition period.”

  “Intuition is fine if you’re reading palms but not for investigative work. We have to discover the facts. Emotions weaken your objectivity and adversely affect your judgment. So much for you being tough.”

  “Sometimes taking the easy way out is just that. Easy. It’s much tougher to question decisions.”

  “Which just leaves you indecisive. The case is closed. There’s no bringing Caine’s father back from the dead. You should leave it alone.”

  “Why are you so vehement about this? Do you know something?”

  “Yes. I know you’re making a mistake in digging up the past.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t think you’re tough enough to face what you might find out.”

  “What do you think I’ll find?”

  “My intuition tells me it won’t be something good,” Abs said in a mocking voice before walking away.

  Which left Faith wondering what Abs was hiding and how it affected this case.

  Caine called Faith three days later on Monday as she was walking home from work. The “Don’t Stop Believin’ ” ringtone had a new meaning for her now. It didn’t just apply to baseball but also to her convoluted feelings for Caine.

  “Just a heads-up that I’m going to be doing a surveillance on Nolan Parker tonight,” he said. “So don’t mess it up.”

  So much for Caine being nice to her. “I won’t mess it up. Thanks for inviting me to join you.”

  “I’m not inviting you. I’m telling you not to interfere.”

  “The best way to ensure that is to include me in the surveillance process. Two sets of eyes are better than one. Remember, I’m the one who got Nolan to speak to us in the first place.”

  Silence.

  “Are you still there?” she said,

  “Be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  She had to sprint the last block, but she was wearing her commuter shoes, so she made it in time to race inside and change her work outfit into something much more casual and nondescript.

  She had her hair stuffed into a baseball cap, and it wasn’t even a White Sox one. Just a plain navy blue cap to go with her plain navy blue T-shirt and plain jeans.

  “Is it safe to assume that I have permission to let Caine in the building?” Yuri asked her as she paused at the building’s front door.

  “It’s not safe to assume anything where Caine is concerned,” Faith said.

  “Oh no. What did he do now?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I thought you two were . . . uh . . . getting along better.”

  Faith sighed. “You heard he spent the night, right?”

  Yuri didn’t reply.

  “It isn’t the way it looks.”

  “I don’t judge,” Yuri said.

  “He was just being nice.”

  Yuri nodded. “Right.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe.”

  “Nearly impossible,” Yuri agreed.

  “Really, he was just being nice. I’d had too much to drink and got sick, and he stayed to make sure I was okay. That’s all it was.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. And don’t say anything to anyone else about this.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Yuri held the door open for her as she hurried outside to hop into Caine’s Mustang.

  “Is this surveillance on foot or are we tailing him by car?” she asked, swinging her backpack onto the floor in front of her.

  “The car,” Caine said.

  “Then you really should have a more inconspicuous vehicle, preferably something blue.”

  “Why? Is that your favorite color?”

  “No, it’s the most common car color. I’ve been doing my research. Brushing up on my PI skills.”

  “This isn’t meant to be a training mission.”

  “I don’t mind training you,” she said.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, you thought you’d train me.” She laughed. “I can assure you that’s not necessary. You still haven’t told me why you’re doing this surveillance tonight. Did something happen?”

  “Nolan called Fred Jr. today and asked for a meeting tonight.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I talked to Fred Jr. today. Met him.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to do that.”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “Where’s Buddy tonight? Will he be tailing us?”

  “No. He’s taking your grandmother out to dinner at O’Sullivan’s tonight.”

  “She didn’t tell me that.”

  “I guess you don’t know everything then, do you?”

  “I didn’t say I know everything.” She almost added that she knew where to find information she didn’t know, before remembering that was a librarian’s line. And she was no longer a librarian.

  She had checked out Buddy, however. He was a Chicago cop for twenty years, as was his son and even his grandson Logan. After retiring, Buddy opened his investigation business over two decades ago. He was seventy-eight, owned his own home and had no major debt.

  Which she supposed made him okay to take out her grandmother.

  “What was your impression of Fred Jr.?” Faith asked.

  “A brainiac chemist following in his father’s footsteps. Not as bad a pain the ass as Nolan Parker. Fred Jr. made no derogatory comments regarding my dad.”

  “Was he as . . . uh . . . confident as Nolan?”

  “That wasn’t confidence Nolan displayed. That was self-aggrandizement.”

  “Agreed.”

  “A famous football coach once said empty barrels make the most noise.”

  “So you’re a football fan as well as a Cubs fan?”

  Caine eyed her suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

  “No reason. I was just making conversation.”


  “We don’t make conversation on surveillance.”

  “By ‘we,’ are you referring to Marines or PIs? Because I’ve actually had my PI license longer than you’ve had yours. Not that I’m bragging or anything.”

  “Right. You’re just being self-aggrandizing.”

  “I am not.” She socked his arm. “Take that back.”

  “And you hit like a girl.”

  “Only when I want to. You know I’m capable of doing much worse.” She shot him a look, reminding him of what she’d done to him back in Positano.

  He rubbed his chest and nodded his acknowledgment before parking down the street from Nolan Parker’s home.

  “You see how much better it is when we work together instead of against each other?” Faith was feeling surprisingly optimistic tonight. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because today she’d successfully completed the case about the Chicago Streets and Sanitation worker who took off to take ballroom dancing lessons whenever his second cousin, a dance instructor, was available. It turned out that Lisa was a huge fan of Dancing with the Stars, and this was Robbie’s way of hoping to impress her with his skills. Faith hadn’t discovered anything to indicate that Robbie knew about Lisa’s inheritance or that he was in any kind of financial difficulty. A happy ending for a change.

  So far that wasn’t true for the Haywood case. Faith hadn’t finished her investigation yet, but it appeared that Douglas Haywood really had lost millions. Both parties were presently seeking counseling to see if there wasn’t a way to stay together until the economy improved to prevent further financial losses. The counseling seemed to help defuse their situation somewhat. Not that Faith had given up on her asset search yet.

  She wasn’t one to give up easily.

  “Why the look?” Caine asked.

  “What look?”

  “Are you bored?”

  “No.”

  “I am.”

  “Gee, thanks. Answer me this. Why is it that no one wants to talk to us like normal people? Why do we have to keep following them around to get answers? Don’t they realize it makes them look suspicious?”

  “They don’t care.”

  “Well, they should.”

  “Consider it a chance to improve your PI skills.”