Mad, Bad and Blonde (12 page)

“Why didn’t you move into the office I provided for you?”

“I didn’t think it was fair to move someone else out just so the boss’s daughter could move in.”

“Hmmm. Well, I’ve got a new assignment for you today. You said you wanted to do more than just sit in front of the computer screen, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Then I want you to head over to Thompson and Associates for a sales pitch. They are an up-and-coming law firm, and they need to hire a top-notch investigation company. I want you to convince them that they need to sign on the dotted line with us. Think you can handle that?”

“Of course.”

“I e-mailed you a list of talking points about why West Investigations is their best choice. The appointment is for eleven thirty, so you’d better get a move on. I’m counting on you to get this deal done.”

Thompson and Associates was located in the Dirksen Federal Building, a short walk away. Once inside, she went through the security checkpoint with its metal detectors before heading for the bank of elevators. A slight jostling at her side had her looking in that direction. “You don’t take direction well, do you,” Caine said. It was a statement, not a question, as he pointed to her purse and waved her wallet at her.

She grabbed it back for the second time in as many days. She belatedly noticed that Caine had changed clothes since she’d last seen him a few hours ago. Gone were the jeans and T-shirt, replaced with a dark suit, white shirt and black tie.

She hadn’t seen him in business attire. He cleaned up nice. Real nice. Hot, hot nice. He still had that Dark Knight thing going on.

“I see you left the wings at home,” he said. “And before you ask, no, I’m not following you. I’m here for a business meeting.”

“Me too.”

She stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the eleventh floor. “What floor do you want?”

“Eleven.”

“Where’s your business meeting?”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you that. Confidential information.”

He held out his hand for her to precede him out of the elevator. Instead, she reciprocated the gesture right back at him. “No, you go first. Please.”

This gave her the chance to admire him as he walked in front of her. He had the upright military posture of a Marine. And he walked right into the offices of Thompson and Associates.

“I have an appointment with Mr. Kneeson,” Caine said.

“So do I,” Faith said, hurrying to stand beside him at the elegant reception desk. “At eleven thirty.”

“I’ll let his assistant know you’re here,” the receptionist said.

Faith stepped away from the desk to study the ACHIEVE poster elegantly framed on the wall.

“Small world, huh,” Caine said.

“I can’t believe they send you out as a sales rep.”

“They don’t usually, but the regular guy got sick.”

“Sure he did.” She shook her head. “This is just another chance for you to hassle me.”

“I’m sorry for this mix-up,” the administrative assistant, a woman in her late fifties with a choppy haircut, said. “Usually we don’t book these kinds of appointments so close together. And usually Mr. Kneeson doesn’t get a flat tire on the Edens Expressway. It’s just been one of those crazy days. He should be in shortly. Again, I’m sorry for the confusion.”

“No problem.” Caine smiled at her and held out his hand. “I’m Caine Hunter with King Investigations, and I know all about crazy days.”

The assistant, who was old enough to know better, melted. “I appreciate you being so understanding, Mr. Hunter.”

“Call me Caine.”

“Can I get you a refreshment while you wait, Caine? Some coffee or tea?”

“I was here first.” Faith said, sounding like one of the kids in her story time group. “Hi. I’m Faith West with West Investigations. I have an eleven thirty appointment with Mr. Kneeson.”

“As I just stated, he’s not here yet. He had a flat tire. Would you like to reschedule your appointment?”

“No, I’ll wait.”

“Caine, would you like some coffee or tea while you wait?”

“Why didn’t you ask him if he wanted to reschedule?” Faith said.

“Because she’s smart enough to know the answer would be no,” Caine replied on the assistant’s behalf. “And some black coffee would be great, thanks.”

“Do you have any chai tea?” Faith said even though the assistant, whose name Faith had yet to discover, hadn’t asked her if
she
wanted anything. “And I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“Linda Dennis. And no, I don’t believe we have any chai tea.”

“That’s okay,” Faith said. “I’m fine.”

The look Linda gave Faith indicated that the assistant doubted that. “I’ll get your coffee, Caine. I won’t be long.”

Caine sat in one of the elegantly upholstered chairs and made himself right at home. Faith sat next to him, to once again prove that she wasn’t intimidated or turned on by him.

“Flat tire. Bad timing,” Caine said.

“Bad luck,” Faith said.

“You’d know all about luck,” he said.

“I certainly know about bad luck. I’ve had a run of that lately.”

“Bad luck or bad judgment?”

“You’re right for once. My bad luck was caused by my bad judgment. But I’m fixing that. I definitely learn by my mistakes, and I do not repeat them.”

“Good to know.”

Could he tell that she was saying that going to bed with him was a mistake? Did he even care?

“Here’s your coffee, Caine. And I just spoke to Mr. Kneeson. He should be here in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” Caine said.

“Yes, thank you, Linda.” Faith smiled at her. Linda didn’t smile back.

Caine calmly sipped his coffee while Faith kept checking her BlackBerry, reviewing the talking points while making sure Caine couldn’t see the screen.

With every minute she became more and more tense while Caine seemed to become calmer and calmer.

“Hi, I’m Chuck Kneeson. I’m so sorry for this mix-up and delay.” He gave both Caine and Faith a strong handshake. “Let me take you out to lunch to make it up to you. Both of you.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Faith said.

“Sounds like a great plan to me,” Caine said.

Great. She couldn’t very well leave him alone to have lunch with the client. Now she was stuck with him. Caine, not the client.

“I understand if it’s too much for you, Faith,” Caine said as if she couldn’t cope with him or the client, she wasn’t exactly sure.

“Lunch sounds good,” Faith said.

“And King Investigations will pay,” Caine said.

“No, West Investigations will pay,” Faith insisted.

“How does the Palmer House sound to you? I’ve got a seminar to give there at the hotel later this afternoon.”

“Sounds great,” Faith said.
Just peachy.

They walked the several blocks to one of Chicago’s iconic locations. Once inside the impressive Beaux Arts- style hotel lobby, Faith blushed when Caine caught her gawking like a tourist at the painted ceiling murals depicting Greek mythology.

“I haven’t been here since the big renovation,” she explained. “Did you know the Palmer House is the oldest continuously operated hotel in the country? And legend has it that the brownie was invented by the chef here when Bertha Palmer, the wife of the original owner, wanted a dessert for ladies to easily eat at Chicago’s 1893 Columbian Exposition. Bertha was a very smart woman. She traveled to Europe and came back with the newest paintings by those rowdy Impressionists. She bought over two dozen Monet paintings and nearly a dozen by Renoir. After her death, her art collection was donated to the Chicago Art Insitute, and the paintings became the basis for their Impressionist collection, which is now one of the best in the world. Oh yeah, Bertha was really something. Her husband built this hotel for her as a wedding present, but it burned down almost two weeks later in the Chicago Fire in 1871. So he built it again. And then the hotel was enlarged in the twenties. So this place has a lot of history.”

Damn. Her inner librarian was showing—the one who beat the rest of the staff at Trivial Pursuit and had a thing for local history.

“I read someplace that knowing trivia like that is a good trait for an investigator to have,” Mr. Kneeson said. “
Tangential knowledge
, I believe it was called.”

Faith proudly threw her shoulders back and stood a little straighter. “It is a good trait to have, because you never know when you’ll need to call on a bit of information to start a conversation.”

“Or a con,” Caine said.

“You’d know more about cons than I would,” she said.

“Right. I do have more experience as an investigator than you do,” Caine said.

Damn. Score one for him.

“Caine doesn’t usually do the sales pitches for his employer,” she said.

“Neither does Faith.”

Mr. Kneeson’s gaze volleyed back and forth between Faith and Caine. “I gather you two know each other pretty well?”

“You could say that,” Caine said while Faith was saying, “Not really.”

Mr. Kneeson just laughed. “Okay then. Let’s get lunch, shall we?”

They were quickly seated at the restaurant on the lobby level. Faith ordered the Amish Chicken Club Waldorf sandwich, while Caine and Mr. Kneeson both ordered the Diablo Burger.

Whenever she attempted to bring up the reasons why West Investigations was the best choice for Thompson and Associates, Caine was right there to distract Mr. Kneeson. The food, especially the truffled potato chips, was delicious, but the company was turning out to be extremely frustrating.

“Excuse me a minute,” Mr. Kneeson said, glancing down at his BlackBerry. “I’ve got to take this call.” He stood and moved to a quieter corner to speak.

Faith glared at Caine. “Stop trying to sabotage my business lunch.”

“It’s not
your
lunch.”

“You’re monopolizing the conversation.”

“You’re just angry because you’re losing.”

“I am not losing. Losing patience maybe, but not losing my cool or losing this client.”

“He isn’t your client yet.”

“He will be.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.”

“I am confident.”

“Then you shouldn’t be afraid that I’ll get Mr. Kneeson to go with King and not West.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you somehow arrange this? For him to get a flat tire?”

“You’ve really got a vivid imagination. Is that because you’re a librarian?”

“A
former
librarian.”

“Right.”

“You won’t win.”

He just smiled. “We’ll see.”

She smiled back, even as she gritted her teeth. “Yes, we will.”

“Sorry about that,” Mr. Kneeson said as he returned. “Where were we?”

“I was about to tell you why someone smart enough to be a White Sox fan like yourself would want to choose West Investigations for your firm.”

“How did you know I’m a White Sox fan?”

She pointed to his BlackBerry screen with the Sox logo. Then pointed to her own screen with a matching logo.

“Do you have some of the ball players as clients?”

Faith smiled discreetly. “You know I can’t answer that question. He’s a Cubs fan.” She nodded toward Caine. “You know what that means.”

Mr. Kneeson nodded. “That his team is going to lose again.”

She nodded too. “The sports franchise that’s gone the longest without a championship. And that’s not just in baseball, that’s all the sports combined. When did the Cubs last win the World Series? Was it 1904?”

Now Caine was the one gritting his teeth. “No, it was 1908.”

She and Mr. Kneeson exchanged a knowing look.

Talk about a momentum shift. Things were totally going Faith’s way now as she and Mr. Kneeson talked baseball—recent games and the bullpen, pitching stats and RBIs.

Caine called the server over. “I’ll take the check now.”

“It’s already been taken care of by the young lady,” the server said.

Faith just smiled. She’d cornered the server earlier and made the payment arrangements with the corporate credit card.

“I hate to eat and run,” Mr. Kneeson said, “but I’ve got to get to that workshop I told you about. Caine, it was great meeting you. Faith, get the paperwork to my assistant Linda, and we’ll get things wrapped up.”

Faith waited until Mr. Kneeson was out of sight before punching a fist into the air. “Yes!” She’d done pretty damn well for only her second day on the job.

“That was dirty, bringing in the Cubs that way. Is nothing sacred?”

“Hey, there’s no crying in baseball,” she countered, quoting the movie
A League of Their Own
.

“No crying in the Marine Corps either,” he said.

“Yeah, I figured.”

“So how did you know I was a Cubs fan?”

“I went through your wallet, remember.”

“Right. In Italy. You saw my season ticket stubs, right?”

She nodded and shifted uneasily. Why did she have to go and bring up Italy? The moment of strained silence seemed to last forever. “Well, I uh . . . I have to get back to the office.”

“You know, Sunshine, we could have been a great team, had circumstances been different.”

But circumstances weren’t different, and she’d be wise not to forget that. More stood between Caine and her than merely rooting for rival baseball teams. Some things couldn’t be forgotten . . . or forgiven.

Chapter Seven

“Your
dad is over the moon about you joining the firm,” Faith’s mom, Sara, said as she joined Faith in her condo on Saturday. They sat together on Faith’s couch, sipping herbal tea. “He’s probably given you a prime corner office with a view.”

“Actually, I insisted on having a regular cubicle. Didn’t Dad tell you?”

“No. He just keeps gloating about you working with him. Your father was never happy with you working as a librarian,” Sara said.

“I know. He wanted me working with him. But I didn’t quit because of him. He never asked me to leave the library.”

“Of course not. He would never do that. You know I was a librarian when I married your father.”

“Right. And you left your job when you had me.”