Mad, Bad and Blonde (4 page)

“No.” He didn’t elaborate the way she had. In fact, he didn’t elaborate at all.

A man of few words. That suited her just fine. Unless it meant that she was the one who had to do all the talking to fill in the awkward silence. She was rapidly running out of energy here, and if she didn’t get some food in her soon, she’d pass out at the table, and Caine would have to do a second rescue.

“Here.” He shoved some fresh bread still warm from the oven at her. “Eat some of this.”

She did so gladly. Where had the plate of sliced crusty bread come from? She’d been sitting here for twenty minutes and gotten nothing. He’d only been there three minutes.

“I’m still jet-lagged,” she explained in between big bites. “I flew in this morning and then drove straight here from Milan.”

“That must have been exciting for you.”

She shrugged. “I handled it.”

“You seem like the kind of woman who could handle just about anything.”

His comment surprised her. “What makes you say that?”

“The Italian roads aren’t for wimps.”

“That’s true. There were a few moments there when I feared for my life.”

“Only a few?”

She laughed and reached for more bread. “Okay, quite a few times. Was it just me, or were the other drivers actually trying to drive me off the road? I was already going much faster than the speed limit.”

“Italian drivers consider that more a suggestion than an actual speed limit. They pretty much go as fast as they want to or are able to. You’ve got to keep up or get out of their way.”

“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?’