Mad, Bad and Blonde (5 page)

“That sounds nice.”

“Good.” He planned on the evening being more than merely nice.

Caine wasn’t disappointed. Faith looked great in a black jersey dress that clung in all the right places. The librarian had awesome breasts. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? That wasn’t usually the kind of thing that got past him. This job just kept getting better and better.

Faith noticed the way Caine was looking at her . . . and she liked it. He was dressed all in black, and he had that sexy stubble thing going on again. This was clearly a man who had to shave twice a day. No metrosexual here. Caine was totally, ruggedly masculine.

The
risotto agli scampi e punte d’asparago
she ordered was culinary perfection—the prawns and asparagus tender and fresh. She didn’t think dessert could be any better, but it was. She and Caine shared bites of the
ravioli al limone
. The ravioli filled with a lemon-flavored ricotta cheese was a Positano specialty.

The divine dish wasn’t the only thing making her mouth water. Caine kept eyeing her as if he wanted to taste her instead of the food. The heat was tangible, and it wasn’t coming from the candlelight on the table.

The minute their meal was over, Caine took her by the hand and led her to the hotel’s private garden. This morning she’d been achingly alone, and now she ached for something else.

Caine stopped at the first shadowy corner they reached. Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was magical. He tasted of lemon and forbidden sex, of dark temptation and wine.

Her knees trembled as she held on to his shoulders. She parted her lips and moaned with pleasure as he expertly seduced her with his tongue. A French kiss in an Italian garden. Heaven.

She was no longer boring or blah. She was a new woman, a powerful blonde woman desired by this man with a raw hunger that was exhilarating and irresistible. Their kiss rapidly intensified, their embrace becoming increasingly intimate.

Caine cupped her breasts in the palm of his hand, and his touch burned through the jersey of her dress and her bra. She shivered with delight when he brushed his thumb across her hardened nipple. She wanted him to take her right there and then.

This wasn’t like her at all. She wasn’t the type to jump into a man’s bed at the drop of a hat. She’d never been so wild with passion that one kiss made her long to have a man make love to her.

But this was more than just a mere kiss. This was an erotic revelation.

Unfortunately, it was interrupted by the arrival of a group of people strolling along the garden walkway. Still dazed and distracted, Faith nodded her agreement after Caine said, “Come with me, because it’s hard to find unless you have someone who knows the way.”

His dark eyes gleamed with a sensual promise. This was definitely a man who knew his way.

Wait, what had she just agreed to? “What’s hard?” She almost swallowed her tongue. “Wait, that came out wrong. What’s hard to find?”

“The walk along the Via Positanesi d’America.” The Italian words fell from his lips with sexy skill. He had the kind of voice that made reading a shopping list sound wicked. “The views from there are great. I can take you tomorrow . . . if you’d like.”

She’d definitely like. She wanted him to take her. Was that wise? Did she care? This moment was the beginning of the rest of her life. “I’d like,” she said.

They spent the rest of the week together—exploring the narrow pedestrian pathways along the edge of the cliffs, sharing a pistachio gelato on the Marina Grande, jumping aboard the shuttle boats to take them island hopping.

Faith fulfilled her dream of seeing Capri and visiting the Blue Grotto. Caine fulfilled her desire to forget her humiliating past in Chicago and live in the moment with a man who evoked a fiery passion within her—the kind of passion that she never even knew existed.

His long, leisurely kisses and heated caresses left her breathless and aching for more. Even though Faith talked to Megan every day and heard all about her father’s dissatisfaction with her not calling him, Faith didn’t mention Caine to her cousin. She wanted to keep Caine to herself. She didn’t want to talk about him, to be logical about being on the rebound. She didn’t want her father telling her to be sensible, reminding her of her responsibilities back home.

She just wanted to forget . . . and Caine made her do that. Made her forget everything but her need for him. Neither one of them talked about their past, although he did tell her he was a lawyer from Philadelphia. Instead, they focused on living in the moment. Sunshine and seduction. Laughter and desire.

And so it was only right, only natural that on Faith’s next to last night in Positano she found herself in Caine’s bed, peeling his shirt off as he stripped her naked. He worked faster than she did, but she did her best to catch up. Hard to do when he kept distracting her by lowering his open mouth to her bare breast and lapping at her nipple with his velvety rough tongue. She arched her back as sharp delight speared through her.

The view from his room might not be as stunning as hers, but the sight of him standing nude beside the bed a moment later was beyond words. He was built like an Italian statue sculpted by Michelangelo. Grabbing his lean hand, she tugged him down to her.

Neither of them spoke, using kisses instead to convey their thoughts and needs. He shoved the tangled sheet out of his way and slowly made his way to the place where she ached the most.

Faith closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment as he treated her to the most wickedly intimate of touches, first with his devilishly talented fingers and then his illegally hot tongue. Her pleasure skyrocketed until she was consumed by a climax that held her so tightly in its grip that she wasn’t sure it would ever end.

She was still gasping for breath when he fumbled for a condom from his wallet on the bedside table and quickly rolled it on, surging into her before her last wave of pleasure diminished. The powerful friction Caine created, moving in and nearly out, was almost more bliss than she could bear. She was catapulted into a new level of ecstasy, raw and magical.

Her orgasm hit her with the force of a velvet fist clenching the walls of her vagina, the tip of her clitoris, and the other million G-spots she hadn’t even known existed until that instant.

No wonder people became addicted to sex. She got it now. She never had before. But now . . . she knew.

Would Jane Austen think it prudent to have incredible sex with a man like Caine? Probably not, which was poor Jane’s loss . . . and Faith’s utterly satisfying gain.

Caine woke at dawn the next morning to find Faith still sound asleep, curled up in his arms with a smile on her face.

He carefully slid his arms from around her and headed for a cold shower. He needed to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now, aside from having sex with her again. How many times had they done it last night? He’d lost count. This wasn’t part of his plan.
She
wasn’t part of his plan.

Ice-cold needles of water hit his body as he stepped into the shower. For the first time since taking this assignment, he felt a wave of guilt. What kind of man had he become?

The kind to get the job done.

His personal mission remained clear and unchanged. His goal was etched into his very soul with the acid of a bone-deep need for revenge. He scrubbed soap over his body, trying to decide if having sex with Faith was a plus or minus regarding his ultimate mission. As far as pleasure went, there was no contest. She was not only hot, but she also got to him. And that could be a problem.

Caine heard a muffled thud over the roar of the shower. “Faith? Are you okay?” he called out. No answer. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. Wait, was that the outer door slamming shut?

He jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel on his way. Sure enough, Faith was gone.

Shit. He’d left his wallet on the nightstand. What a rookie mistake. She’d removed his Illinois driver’s and private investigator’s licenses and tossed them onto the middle of the rumpled bed. His wallet had been thrown against the far wall, explaining the thump he’d heard.

He garnered all that intel in a second while racing toward the door she’d just slammed on her way out. He yanked it open and stepped into the hallway. The door slammed behind him, leaving him stranded wearing nothing but shower water and a towel.

Caine used every one of the creative curses he’d learned from his years in the Marine Corps. He was so screwed.

Faith called her father the instant she got to her room. “How could you! Megan told me you were upset with me not talking to you on the phone. So instead of trusting me, you sent one of your minions to spy on me!” During their week together, Caine had told her he was a lawyer from Philadelphia, but his driver’s license listed a Chicago address. Ditto for his private investigator’s license. Obviously the man lied. “His name is Caine Hunter. Ring any bells?”

“Oh my God!” her father bellowed. “He doesn’t work for me. He works for that low-down thieving bastard Vince King from King Investigations!”

Great. Faith’s heart sank. She’d just slept with and had mind-blowing sex with the enemy.

Chapter Three

“Are
you still there? Did you hear what I said?” Faith’s father demanded, his voice so loud she had to hold her cell phone away from her ear. “Caine Hunter works for that bastard Vince King!”

“Yes, I heard you.”

“You said this guy has been spying on you? Have you had direct contact with him?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t get any more direct than she’d gotten with Caine last night. The heated memories filled her mind and weakened her knees. She sank onto the bed. Her contact with Caine had been intimately direct and extraordinarily sensual, not that she was about to tell her father that.

“Did he threaten you? Intimidate you in any way?”

“No, nothing like that.” Although Caine’s ability to give Faith pleasure had been so intense that it had threatened her self-control and left her flying to orgasmic planes she’d never visited before.

Sensing she wasn’t telling him everything, he demanded, “Do I need to come over there and get you?”

“Of course not.”

“You’re obviously not in a clear state of mind.”

Hey, you wouldn’t be clear if you’d gone through what I have in the past week,
she wanted to tell her father but didn’t. She’d already left her family with the mess caused by her ruined wedding. Instead of facing the music and handling things herself, she’d hopped on a plane and left town.

Not the action of a responsible adult, perhaps, and she felt guilty about that . . . along with the fact that she’d just slept with her father’s enemy. Or to be more precise—she’d slept with an employee of his enemy.

“You haven’t forgotten why that bastard King is our enemy, have you?”

“No, Dad, I haven’t forgotten.” How could she? Their rivalry was legendary.

“He worked for me. He was my best friend, and he betrayed me.”

Yeah, Faith sure knew how betrayal felt. She’d had more than her fair share lately.

“After swearing he’d never start his own agency, he did just that. He’s been out to get me ever since—stealing clients, sabotaging cases, messing with our investigators. When Alan the Asshole went missing, my first thought was that King had gotten to him. I don’t think that’s what happened in that instance, but I will certainly check it out again. This case with Caine Hunter showing up in Italy is another matter. Hunter isn’t just any employee. He’s got a sick grudge against us. He blames me for his father’s death.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“His father was involved in a major case of ours, one involving corporate theft in the millions of dollars. We were about to turn our information over to the authorities when the guy committed suicide.”

“How can Caine blame his father’s suicide on us?”

“Because he doesn’t think his father was guilty, which is ridiculous. Listen, Faith, this Hunter guy is not to be messed with. He’s a former Marine with revenge on his mind. That’s a dangerous combination.”