Mad Bad and Blonde

by Cathie Linz

  “There are some drivers in Las Vegas who feel the same way.”

  “I thought you were from Chicago?”

  She frowned, trying to remember if she’d told him that.

  “You said your grandfather started his business there, so I assumed . . .”

  Faith nodded. “Right. I did grow up there and I do live there now, but I took a break for a few years after I got my degree and went to work in Las Vegas.”

  “Doing what? Dealing blackjack?”

  “No. I’m a librarian.”

  “What were you doing in Las Vegas?

  “Working at the library there. Oh good!” She almost grabbed the plate out of the waiter’s hands. “Food.”

  His pasta arrived a moment later along with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. She savored the subtle taste of tomato, cheese and basil in her pizza even as she appreciated the look of his lean fingers cradling the glass of wine he was handing her. “Want a taste?”

  She did. She wanted more than a taste. She wanted to gobble him up. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t even had any alcohol yet, and she was already dazed. Just because a man was looking at her. Not just any man. Paco and French Fry Boy hadn’t had this effect on her. Only Dark Knight Caine seemed to have the ability to get to her.

  She must be jet-lagged. That had to be it. She took the glass he offered, startled that the slight brush of his fingertips against hers created a mega-reaction with plenty of inner zing and heat. She gulped at her wine like a novice.

  “Do you approve?” he asked.

  Of her reaction to him? No, not really. She didn’t approve at all. She hadn’t come to Italy to have a fling with a rebound man. Had she? No, of course not. How shallow would that make her? Not as shallow as her runaway groom.

  “The wine is lovely. It has a nice fruity bouquet with an underlying hint of nuttiness.” She was certainly nuts to be thinking seductive thoughts, but at least she sounded coherent and together. Again, Jane Austen should be proud. “So, are you here on vacation?” She took the nonchalant movement of his head as a nod. “You’re traveling alone?” Another nod. “Me too.” Oops. Her dad would have a stroke. Rule number one in travel security: Never admit you’re alone. “But people know where I am, of course.”

  Caine watched her nervously press her napkin to her lips. She had a sexy mouth, even if she was telling him more than he thought she would. You’d think her father would have trained her better.

  Even though he knew her work history, he’d had to play it dumb about her time in Las Vegas. He noticed she didn’t mention that she’d occasionally worked part-time for West Investigations. As the daughter of the owner, it wasn’t like she had to fill out time sheets or punch a time clock. She could work when and where she wanted.

  He wasn’t sure why she’d been so talkative about her background. Was that her normal behavior, or was exhaustion playing a part? She’d been talking a mile a minute before he gave her wine, so he couldn’t blame the alcohol.

  Not that he was complaining. Having her freely offer information was much better than his having to pry it out of her.

  All in all, this job was turning out to be easier than he’d expected. She hadn’t eyed him at all suspiciously, and that idiot choking had provided him with an unexpected yet perfect entrée. He couldn’t have set it up any better if he’d tried.

  Now he just had to convince her that sticking close to him was a really good idea. He’d seen her blue eyes widen when their fingers had touched a moment ago. He’d felt the jolt of electricity too. Sexual chemistry. That might prove useful later. For now, he didn’t want to push her too hard.

  So he sat back in his chair and watched her as she nervously chatted on about some movie and how she’d always wanted to visit Positano. She spoke as if coming here was her mission in life.

  Caine knew all about missions. As a former Force Recon Marine, he was part of a brotherhood that valued honor, courage and commitment. He’d learned a lot in the Special Forces. Secrecy, subterfuge and surveillance were a way of life to him. He knew two dozen ways to kill with his bare hands. He’d seen things and done things that still gave him nightmares. He was battle-hardened—some might even say battle-scarred. But he’d survived. Plenty hadn’t. Too many had died.

  Caine reminded himself he’d survived for a reason. He had a mission of his own: a personal mission that went far beyond this professional assignment to keep tabs on Faith. There was no going back now.

  Faith didn’t sleep well. Given how exhausted she was, she should have had no problem. But unpacking her honeymoon trousseau had turned out to be more stressful than she’d anticipated.

  She was confused, depressed and maybe even a little bit . . . relieved? Had she been more in love with the idea of love and marriage than the reality? Was Alan really the only man for her, her complete soul mate? Maybe not, she admitted to herself. That didn’t mean that his defection and desertion didn’t hurt.

  The tears had started again, leaving her eyes puffy and red. She’d jammed the sexy lingerie and nightgowns into a bottom drawer before stubbing her bare toe in her hurry to get away from the antique, hand-painted cabinet in her hotel room.

  She’d dreamed about Alan heading off into the sunset on the back of Dumbo the elephant while Caine the Dark Knight swooped down to rescue her . . . or kill her. She couldn’t be sure. Which was why she woke up shaking.

  Sleep had been impossible after that. Dawn was lighting the sky as she got up and had a nice long soak in the old-fashioned tub. The hotel had provided a selection of lemon-scented oils and lotions to which she could easily become addicted. Lemon-adorned ceramic tiles marched across the bathroom walls in a beautiful display. Maybe she’d buy some tiles while she was here and have them put in her bathroom at home. Dressing in a colorful chiffon halter top and white Capri pants made her feel a little more cheerful.

  The lobby was deserted as she headed out to take a walk through the lush gardens. Her delight at arriving at her dream location yesterday was diminished today as the reality of her situation hit her. She was alone. There was no one at her side to rave about the view or to smell the flowers. No one to hold her hand when she stumbled, no one to catch her if she fell. By the time she reached the outdoor terrace, she was blinking back the tears as she bumped into someone.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded furiously. It was Caine. He looked as good as he did last night, maybe even better. He had his hands braced on her arms to steady her. The sizzle of attraction was so powerful it was scary.

  “You probably just have something in your eye, right?”

  She nodded again and hurried off. She felt like an idiot. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of him or anyone else.

  By the time she returned to the safety of her own room, she had her emotions more under control. She was pleasantly surprised to find a breakfast tray waiting for her, filled with warm flaky croissants and rolls as well as creamy butter and a selection of jams. The delicious food helped fight off her depression. So did a quick call from Megan.

  “Are you okay? How’s the view?” her cousin asked. “Is it as good as you hoped?”

  Faith looked out the window and nodded. Sunshine poured down on the pastel-colored houses clinging to the rocky cliffs. Here and there splashes of bougainvillea added more color. “It’s even better than I expected.”

  “And how about you? How are you doing? No regrets about going?”

  “I can’t believe I’m really here. And I don’t regret coming, no. It’s as spectacular as I always dreamed it would be. Even the bathroom is awesome. I’d tell you more, but I signed up for a tour to Pompeii, and I just realized it leaves in a few minutes. Tell my parents I’m fine. I’m just not up to talking to them myself. I came here to forget, not to rehash the past. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

  Her tour of the eerie ruins of Pompeii left her feeling depressed at the disaster that had struck out of the blue. Sure, being left at the altar
wasn’t as bad as a having an erupting volcano like Mt. Vesuvius spewing hot lava all over you, but both events had come without any warning and caught the victims completely unprepared.

  Faith left the area with a cloud of melancholy hanging over her. She could see the sadness on her face as she entered the lobby and caught her reflection in a gilded mirror: the dark circles under her eyes, her blah brown hair. That moment reminded her too vividly of sitting in the church anteroom waiting for Alan.

  She’d never had a panic attack, but she felt one coming on. Her chest hurt, and she couldn’t breathe.

  “Did you want an appointment, signorina?” someone asked her. “We have an opening now.”

  “What?” Faith looked away from the mirror and realized she was standing near a hair salon tucked into a corner of the lobby next to the hotel’s spa. She stared at the photo in the window of a blonde model with a trendy haircut that reminded her of Ellen Barkin’s in Ocean’s Thirteen. “Yes, I want an appointment.” She pointed to the photo. “Make me look like her.”

  Caine watched Faith enter the ritzy salon. No surprise there. A rich princess like her would be looking to have her nails done and all that other pampering stuff.

  He’d discreetly trailed her at Pompeii, noting her body language. With her bent head and arms wrapped around her middle, you’d think she was genuinely upset at the mass tragedy that had occurred there nearly two thousand years ago . . . if he remembered the date correctly. And he always remembered correctly. That was part of his job: to notice and remember the details. For a Marine, details could mean the difference between life and death. The mission had to be completed, no matter the cost. Failure was not an option.

  He sat in the lobby and made himself comfortable. He almost didn’t recognize Faith when she finally stepped out of the salon. Her hair was cut shorter and glimmered with sunlight. Amazing what hair coloring and highlights could do. Had he been a poetic kind of guy, he might have come up with some line about her being a Greek goddess or something. But no one had ever accused him of being poetic and lived to tell the tale.

  Instead, he gave her a nod of approval and said, “You look good.” Meanwhile, his body was saying, Take her to bed. He wanted her. Badly. Suddenly. Because she was a blonde now? Because she smelled like lemons? How demented was that?

  Her smile lit up her entire face and made her blue eyes gleam. “Thanks.” She moved her head back and forth, making her hair fall across her cheek. “I’m still getting used to the new me.”

  He reached out to remove a strand of hair that clung to the corner of her mouth. More sizzle. His body hardened. “Would the new you like to join me for dinner on the terrace tonight?’

  “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 tan
gled 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.