Mad, Bad and Blonde (25 page)

“Hey, you’re the one who called me,” Fred Jr. said.

But Nolan was already on his way out the door, which Faith could see. She and Caine hurried out after him and got in the Mustang in time to trail Nolan back to his home. They had to park a block and a half away because there was nowhere else open.

Faith discreetly discarded her gum before speaking. “So what did we learn from that encounter?”

“Several things. That Nolan thinks his phone is bugged and that he’s being followed. Fred thinks he’s being followed too.”

“Do you think the lawyers defending the chemical company hired investigators to check Fred and Nolan out?”

“It’s possible, I suppose. Buddy claims he hasn’t bugged anyone’s phone and that if he was tailing Nolan and Fred, they’d never know it.”

“Our company and Vince’s are the two major investigative firms in the city. If the lawyers were going to hire someone, you’d think they’d contact one of our companies.”

“Your company already has a track record with my father’s case, so odds are that they’d want someone fresh.”

“Like Vince?”

Caine nodded. “I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Okay. What else did we learn from their meeting?”

“That you can’t follow orders.” Caine turned to give her a steamy stare. “And that you look sinfully hot in that halter top.”

Thoughts of the case flew out of her mind. “Take your Cubs cap off,” Faith said.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t kiss a man wearing a Cubs cap.”

Caine whisked the cap off.

She grinned at him. “I didn’t say I was going to kiss you now, just stating a fact.”

“You’re bad. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No.” She was rather pleased with herself.

“Maybe you should take off your sexy halter top.”

“Because you can’t kiss a woman wearing a sexy halter top?”

“I’d rather kiss one without a top.”

“Forget about it.”

“Is that your best
Sopranos
impersonation?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“That’s okay. You’re good at other things.” With each word, he came closer, until his lips rested on hers, and he was kissing her.

She kissed him back before coming to her senses. “Wait, what about Nolan?”

“I don’t want to have sex with Nolan. I want to have it with you.”

“We are not having sex in the front seat of your car.”

“How about the backseat?”

“No, not there either.”

“So you think we should just park and make out? Sounds good to me.”

“What about the surveillance?”

“Finished for tonight.” His hand stole beneath her halter top. “Now I’m on stealth mode.”

“Mmm, you’re on seduction mode.”

Speech was replaced with hot, wet kisses. Damn, Caine was a fine kisser. The best. That tongue of his should be labeled dangerous to a woman’s peace of mind and definitely dangerous to her common sense. Faith hadn’t made out like this as a teenager, and now she realized what she’d been missing. There was something to be said for slowing things down and enjoying every second. While his mouth consumed hers, his hand leisurely rubbed and caressed her breast under the minimal cover of her sexy halter top.

The sound of yelling dragged Faith from her passion-induced haze. An elderly woman driving a boat-sized old Cadillac had pulled alongside them before apparently getting out and banging on their windshield. “Do that hankypanky stuff somewhere else. I need this parking space!”

Chapter Fifteen

Twenty
minutes later, Faith dumped her backpack on the floor just inside her front door and headed straight for the kitchen. She’d tugged her navy T-shirt over her slutty halter top before entering her building. She really didn’t need any of her neighbors seeing her in that wild outfit.

Her stomach growled as she opened her fridge. She hadn’t had any dinner, and she was hungry.

Yeah, you’re hungry,
her inner voice mocked.
Hungry for more of Caine’s kisses.

Her life was rapidly turning into the Tale of Two Faiths. One part of her knew she was playing with fire by responding to him. Yet the more time she spent with Caine, the harder it was to resist him. He’d apologized for not being able to take her to dinner tonight because he had to work on another case for King Investigations.

That brought her to the second part of her conflicted self. This was the logical part filled with questions. How was she supposed to believe that Caine wanted her for her and not just as a way of exacting revenge on her father by breaking her heart? Her gut told her that wasn’t the case, but how could she trust her own judgment when the choices she’d made, like getting engaged to Alan, were clearly mistakes? Could she really afford to risk getting badly hurt by making another mistake? Could she just have blind faith that things would work out with Caine?

Despite her name, blind faith had never come easily for Faith. It all went back to that worst-case scenario thinking. The one time she’d abandoned it, she’d been left at the altar. So much for blind faith.

The worst-case scenario here was too bad to even contemplate right now. So she instead focused her attention on scrounging up some food. She clearly needed to place another order with Peapod to have more groceries delivered. As it was, the contents of her fridge consisted of the usual condiments, English muffins, blueberry jelly, organic yogurt, skim milk, leftover asparagus quiche from the Comfort Café, a bag of light Caesar salad and something wrapped in foil that she was afraid to open.

The choice was clear: quiche and a salad. She curled up on her couch with her plate and watched two episodes of her guilty pleasure, the cartoon
Jane and the Dragon
. Now that she was a PI, she probably should have been watching
CSI
or
NCIS
or something involving investigative work.

So sue her. At the moment, she needed to watch the show based on the books by Martin Baynton.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Jane was a wimp. She was a girl who wanted to be a knight, not a lady-in-waiting. Come to think of it, Jane was actually a kick-ass kind of girl. Sure, she got help sometimes from the court jester and a dragon, but they were sidekicks.

Faith had trouble sleeping that night, and when she did doze off, she had nightmares about dragons with swords and Caine laughing at her fears before kissing her, leaving her aching for more.

Faith went to work the next morning with dark circles under her eyes. She’d tried to cover them up with makeup, but cosmetics could only do so much.

“A rough night?” Abs asked with a knowing smile.

“I was working,” Faith said.

Gloria walked by before back-stepping to pause, shake her head and click her tongue at Faith. “You should have worn red today.” Gloria smoothed a hand down her poppy red shirtdress. “It makes you look good even on bad days.”

It did occur to Faith that as the boss’s daughter, she really should get a little more respect around here. She needed to work on that . . . on a day when she wasn’t so exhausted. On a day when she’d slept well instead of tossing and turning most of the night, reliving every kiss, every caress that Caine had ever given her.

Sure, she’d refused to have sex in his car, but what did that really prove? That she still had some remnants of common sense and self-discipline left? So what? The bottom line here was that her feelings for Caine refused to go away and just seemed to grow stronger every time she saw him, every time she kissed him, every time she let him caress her.

“You’re not still pining after Alan, are you?” Gloria asked.

“No,” Faith said. “Definitely not.”

Gloria nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Maybe she’s pining after someone else,” Abs said.

“Don’t be silly. It’s too soon for her to pine after someone else. Isn’t it?” Gloria asked Faith.

“Right.” Faith prayed her face didn’t turn as red as Gloria’s dress.

“Faith isn’t slutty like that,” Gloria said.

Which reminded Faith of the halter top she’d worn last night into the convenience store. What would Jane Austen think . . . ?

No, no, Faith wasn’t going there. Dressed like that, Faith should have wondered what Madonna would think. No doubt the Material Girl would approve.

Not that Faith could see Madonna as her mentor, despite loving her song “Jump.” Going from Jane Austen to Madonna would be too big a jump for Faith. Or would it?

Hmmm, she’d have to consider that later.

She spent the morning working on the asset search for the Haywood case. Candy Haywood had mentioned that they’d owned a time-share in the Mexican resort of Cabo San Lucas, so Faith was searching for possible bank accounts or additional real estate in that area. Her search wasn’t just under Douglas Haywood’s name but under his father’s name, his brother’s name and even his brother-in-law’s name. None of them had the kind of funds that Haywood had once possessed . . . and might still possess. When she turned up nothing, she started on the females in his family, beginning with his mother.

“Bingo.” A big bank account, as in seven figures, in a Mexican bank under his mother’s name.

Faith was so happy she stood and did a happy Snoopy dance.

“Yeah, that makes you look real tough,” Abs said.

Faith didn’t care what Abs thought. She immediately called Candy Haywood’s attorney and gave him the info, e-mailing him all the details. So much for Douglas Haywood being broke.

Now, if Faith could only be as successful regarding the investigation into her dad’s behavior. He’d given her the password to check into the company credit card account when he’d given her a card. She’d already checked and didn’t find any suspicious activity by her father. No charges for florists or Victoria’s Secret or jewelry stores. No hotel room charges. Nothing to raise any red flags.

She told her mom as much later that evening when she phoned her.

“So you haven’t found one single thing that’s suspicious?”

Faith paused a second too long.

“I knew it!” her mom said. “Tell me right now.”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Then there’s no problem telling me about it.”

“I’m just afraid you’ll make more of it than you should. It’s no big deal.”

“Let me be the judge of how big a deal it is.”

“You have to promise me first that you won’t go off the deep end.”

“Jane Austen would not have her mother make a promise like that.”

“She might. But I’m not Jane Austen. I’m thinking I might be more like Madonna.”

“You’re thinking of adopting a child?”

“No. Not like Madonna that way. Never mind. The only thing I observed was dad having dinner with a client.”

“What client? A female?”

“Yes, a female.”

“A good-looking one?”

“I suppose . . .”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then how do you know that she’s a client?”

“Dad said he was having dinner with a client.”

Thump thump thump.

That didn’t sound good. “Mom, what are you doing? Where are you?”

“In the kitchen.”

“What was that noise?”

“Me whacking the phone against the counter. Maybe I should hire someone else for the job. Maybe it’s too much for you.”

“It’s not too much for me.”

“Maybe you’ve got so many other cases that you don’t have the time to devote to this one.”

“Of course I have the time.”

“Really? Because I’m not sure you’re giving this the priority it deserves.”

Faith felt more than a twinge of guilt. It was true that she’d spent more time on Karl Hunter’s case than she had investigating her father.

“I knew it. I’m right, aren’t I?” her mom said.

“I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Please don’t let me down.”

Faith’s heart ached at the sadness in her mom’s voice. “I won’t.”

She worked until the middle of the night, trying to find something about her dad that would give her a clue as to what might be going on, but she found nothing. Surely that was a good sign?

“It sounds like Nolan Parker is a hot dog searching for mustard,” Buddy said as he and Caine sat in one Chicago’s many South Side Irish pubs late Wednesday night.

At Caine’s blank look, Buddy explained. “It means he’s in search of attention.”

“If he framed my dad, why would he be looking for attention? Which reminds me, you’re telling me the truth when you say you aren’t bugging his phone, right?”

“That would be illegal.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“I need to know if it’s you or if there’s someone else in this mix.”

“And I need to keep some things private. You’re not my client. Weldon is.”

“Does that mean that if Weldon is responsible for framing my dad, you won’t tell me?”

“You met the kid. Do you think he framed your dad?”

Caine rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what I think. I checked and haven’t found any record of any other investigators tailing Fred and/or Nolan. So that leaves you. You tailed Fred and Nolan to find out if they were the one tailing Weldon. Am I right?”