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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.
    Caine heard a muffled thud over the roar of the shower. “Faith? Are you okay?” he called out. No answer. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. Wait, was that the outer door slamming shut?
    He jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel on his way. Sure enough, Faith was gone.
    Shit. He’d left his wallet on the nightstand. What a rookie mistake. She’d removed his Illinois driver’s and private investigator’s licenses and tossed them onto the middle of the rumpled bed. His wallet had been thrown against the far wall, explaining the thump he’d heard.
    He garnered all that intel in a second while racing toward the door she’d just slammed on her way out. He yanked it open and stepped into the hallway. The door slammed behind him, leaving him stranded wearing nothing but shower water and a towel.
    Caine used every one of the creative curses he’d learned from his years in the Marine Corps. He was so screwed.

    Faith called her father the instant she got to her room. “How could you! Megan told me you were upset with me not talking to you on the phone. So instead of trusting me, you sent one of your minions to spy on me!” During their week together, Caine had told her he was a lawyer from Philadelphia, but his driver’s license listed a Chicago address. Ditto for his private investigator’s license. Obviously the man lied. “His name is Caine Hunter. Ring any bells?”
    “Oh my God!” her father bellowed. “He doesn’t work for me. He works for that low-down thieving bastard Vince King from King Investigations!”
    Great. Faith’s heart sank. She’d just slept with and had mind-blowing sex with the enemy.

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    “Are you still there? Did you hear what I said?” Faith’s father demanded, his voice so loud she had to hold her cell phone away from her ear. “Caine Hunter works for that bastard Vince King!”
    “Yes, I heard you.”
    “You said this guy has been spying on you? Have you had direct contact with him?”
    “Yes.” You couldn’t get any more direct than she’d gotten with Caine last night. The heated memories filled her mind and weakened her knees. She sank onto the bed. Her contact with Caine had been intimately direct and extraordinarily sensual, not that she was about to tell her father that.
    “Did he threaten you? Intimidate you in any way?”
    “No, nothing like that.” Although Caine’s ability to give Faith pleasure had been so intense that it had threatened her self-control and left her flying to orgasmic planes she’d never visited before.
    Sensing she wasn’t telling him everything, he demanded, “Do I need to come over there and