Mad, Bad and Blonde - Cathie Linz [65]
“Where’s Yuri?” Caine demanded.
“He’s off tonight,” the beefcake young guy in the doorman uniform said. “And you can’t park there. The underground parking garage entrance is around the corner.”
Caine might have trusted Yuri to get Faith upstairs to her condo, but no way was he trusting this cocky dude.
The garage entrance required a security code. “What’s your password?” he asked Faith.
“Austen. Jane Austen,” she said in her best 007 voice.
Once he parked his Mustang, Caine had a hard time getting Faith out of the car. Finally he had to practically lift her out and scoop her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her silky hair brushing his chin. “Nice,” she murmured.
It was way beyond nice and entering downright dangerous territory. Caine kept his eyes fixed on the elevator ahead of them and not on her cleavage, which was generously displayed the way her wraparound dress had parted.
He hit the elevator button with his elbow. Thankfully, the doors opened immediately, and he stepped inside. A short ride took them to the lobby, where he had to transfer to another elevator.
He knew her address from the research he’d done on her back in Italy. She lived on the twelfth floor, unit 1209.
He slid her to her feet in front of her door. “Where are your keys?”
“In here.” She jiggled her purse . . . and giggled. He realized then that he hadn’t heard her giggle since before they’d slept together in Italy. He also realized he really missed her giggle. She may have laughed at him after she’d swiped that client by using her Sox fan status, but it didn’t have the charm of her giggle. What had he been talking about before? Oh right, her keys.
“Get them out,” he said.
“Okeydokey.” Her bumbled search proved unsuccessful.
Sighing, Caine took the purse from her, or attempted to, but she refused to relinquish possession.
“Just wait,” she told him. “Hold your hand out.”
He reluctantly did so while holding her upright with his other hand on her shoulder.
“Here.” She leaned against him and started piling things in his hand. Her lipstick, her wallet, pepper spray, her iPod, a paperback romance novel. “I found them!” She dangled them in front of his nose.
“Great.” He dumped her stuff back in her purse and took the keys to open her door.
“Why are the walls moving?” she said.
“Because you drank too many Mounds martinis. What the hell is a Mounds martini anyway?”
“Chocolate and coconut just like the Mounds candy bars. Yummy.”
Why was she looking at him when she said “Yummy”? Was she talking about the drink or him? “Where’s your bedroom?”
She tsked and shook her finger at him. “In your dreams, Mr. Marine.”
Actually her bedroom had been in his dreams . . . or her bed, to be more exact. With her in it . . . naked on black satin sheets.
Caine had no trouble finding her bedroom, which was straight down the hall from the living room. He had significantly more trouble getting Faith to go to bed. That’s when he made his first mistake.
Chapter Fourteen
The last time Faith had had too much to drink, she’d had too many mojitos with Megan and ended up on a plane to Italy . . . where she’d slept with Caine.
Now here she was again. Sleeping with Caine.
She sat up in bed, groaning and clutching her head. They hadn’t had sex, had they? No. She was sure they hadn’t. Pretty sure. Sort of sure.
Okay, don’t panic. Breathe.
She wasn’t nude. That was a good thing, right? She was wearing underwear and a baggy White Sox nightshirt that she didn’t remember putting on herself.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in some happy place like the Comfort Café eating blueberry pancakes. Yummy.
Except she was still a little queasy. Yucky.
Wait . . . had Caine helped her when she’d thrown up last night? Had he held her hair back from her face when she’d barfed? Had he gently wiped her face with a cool washcloth?
Yes. She was sort of sure he had. Pretty sure. Damn sure.
The memories came rushing back. He’d been nice to her. Kind. Caring.
Why? What was his master plan? And how had he ended up here at her condo anyway?