Ambition (Private 7)

* * *

"I can't beli

eve this restaurant doesn't have a valet," Hunter said as he parallel parked his gorgeous Bentley on a side street in the

town of Easton. A couple inches of snow had fallen earlier that day, which made it harder to see the lines, and I felt for him. Parallel

parking was so stressful. Doing it on a first date couldn't be easy. "But it shouldn't be too far to walk." "Believe me, I don't mind," I

told him. Where I came from a fancy dinner out meant not wearing jeans to the Steak & Ale. Yet here I was, decked out in thousands

of dollars' worth of couture, with a guy wearing a cashmere coat and leather gloves, looking like a movie star behind the wheel. Walk-

ing a couple blocks to the restaurant was not going to kill me.

"No, no. I'll get that," Hunter said, stopping me as I reached for the car door. I giggled to myself as he got out, strolled around the

front of the car, and opened my door for me. Noelle said it all the time and I was starting to agree with her--there was no substitute for

good breeding. He offered his hand, which I took--as awkward as it felt--and helped me out of the car. "This is my favorite restaurant

in town. It's not easy to get a reservation here, but they always save a table for me," Hunter said as he used his remote to lock his car.

"Must be nice," I said as we turned up the sidewalk. "It is," he replied with a smile. We walked carefully, avoiding patches of ice on

the freshly shoveled walkway. I felt like I should be making conversation, but I was at a loss for the moment. The silence was just

starting to feel awkward when we came around the corner onto Main Street and half a dozen flashbulbs flashed across the street.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me," Hunter groused. He ducked into the doorway of a children's clothing boutique, which had already

closed down for the night, and pressed his back to the brick wall. "What? What's going on?" I asked, looking up. "Get in here!" he

hissed. I did as I was told, hopping up the one step and huddling next to him. "What is it?" I asked. "Paparazzi," Hunter said through

his teeth. "Crap. Someone must have tipped them off that I was going out tonight. You date one socialite..." "Seriously? You're actual-

ly being stalked by the paparazzi?" I asked. "Must be a slow news week for them to come all the way up to Connecticut," Hunter said,

then cursed under his breath. "My dad warned me about this. He said they were going to want to get pictures of whoever I dated after

the heiress."

"Which would be me," I said, trying to make this sink in. "Which would be you," Hunter agreed. "Are they coming over here?"

Okay. This was surreal. I was being stalked by the paparazzi on a date. If the shallow chicks back home could see me now. Well,

maybe they would when they opened next week's Us Weekly. Weird. "Reed! Are they coming over here?" Hunter sounded desperate.

I peeked around the corner. The four photogs were still hanging out across the street, probably waiting for our next move. "They look

like they're staying put." "Yeah, until I come out. I'm going to kill whoever did this," Hunter said. "Well, why don't we get rid of

them? " I asked. Hunter scoffed. "No offense, Reed, but how? You have no idea what kind of people you're dealing with."

I glanced down at the pile of snow that had been shoveled up against the wall of the shop. The idea was so basic, but so deliciously

evil at the same time. "Maybe not. But I do know that no one likes a face full of icy snowball. Also, water is really bad for cameras."