Mad, Bad and Blonde - Cathie Linz [8]
“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