Dare She Kiss & Tell?

He passed around her, heading for the exit. “I’ll keep your floral preferences in mind.”

* * *

Late Monday afternoon Hunter weaved his way through the crowded, opulent lobby of SunCare Bank. His cell phone rang and, recognizing the number, he answered without a hello. “I just finished delivering the SunCare proposal. I thought you were going to try and make it?”

“You have smooth negotiating skills,” his partner said. “I’m lousy with clients.”

“Perhaps because you expect everyone to speak fluent binary code.”

“It’s the language of the future, my friend,” Pete Booker said. “And I might have crummy people skills, but I’m brilliant at debugging our cross-platform encryption software. Which I finished in record time, so round of applause for me.”

Hunter suppressed the grin. His friend, a former whiz kid and quintessential technogeek—the stereotype Carly Wolfe had clearly been expecting—hated meetings of any kind. And while Hunter had a healthy ego, was comfortable with his skills as an expert at cyber security, “mathematical genius” didn’t even touch Booker’s capabilities. Unfortunately what Mother Nature had bestowed on Booker in brains she’d shortchanged him in the social graces, leaving Hunter the front man for their business. Still, theirs was a formidable team, and there was no one Hunter trusted more.

“But I didn’t call for applause,” Booker said. “I called to tell you we’ve got trouble.”

Familiar with his friend’s love for conspiracy plots, Hunter maintained his role as the straight man. “More trouble than those secret silent black helicopters?”

“Chuckle on, Hunt. Cuz when Big Brother comes to haul you away, you won’t be.”

“I promise I’ll stop laughing then,” Hunter said dryly.

“Do you want to hear my news or not?”

“Only if it’s about another sighting of Elvis.”

“Not even close,” Booker said. “It’s about Carly Wolfe.”

At the mention of the delightfully charming menace, Hunter frowned as he pushed through the revolving bank door and was dumped out onto the bustling, skyscraper-lined sidewalk. “Go on.”

“As per your suggestion I did a little research and found out her dad is William Wolfe, founder and owner of Wolfe Broadcasting. You know—the one that owns numerous media outlets throughout the country.” Booker paused as if to emphasize what came next. “Including WTDU TV station.”

Hunter stopped short, instantly alert, and people on the sidewalk continued to stream around him. He hadn’t completely recovered from his mental tango with the lovely Carly Wolfe. But the little troublemaker suddenly had the potential of being a much bigger troublemaker than he’d originally thought. “The station that airs Brian O’Connor’s show,” he said slowly.

“One and the same,” his partner said.

Hunter forced the breath from his body in a slow, smooth motion, fighting the odd feeling of disappointment. So far he’d thought Carly Wolfe had been blatantly frank about all that she’d pulled. Her moves had been amusing because she was so upfront in her attempts to get what she wanted from him. Unlike his ex, whose manipulations had all been done behind his back. And while there were clearly no rules to the game he and Carly were engaged in, there was a sort of unwritten gentleman’s agreement—if she’d been a man, that was, which she most clearly wasn’t.

In Hunter’s mind Carly had crossed the line into unfair play. Because she hadn’t had to charm her way onto the show—a thought Hunter had found intensely amusing. No, she’d just picked up the phone and called her father. Making her more of a user than a wily charmer. The disappointment dug deeper.

“The second show is the least of our problems,” Booker said seriously. “With that kind of connection she could maintain this public fight forever. Enough to eventually hurt the business.”

Hunter’s cheek twitched with tension. Firewell, Inc. wasn’t just about money and success. It was about redefining himself after his old life had been stolen from him. The pause was long as Hunter grappled with the news.

“I hope you have a plan,” Booker went on. “Cuz I’ll be damned if I know what to do next.”

As usual, the weight of responsibility sat hard on Hunter’s shoulders, and his fingers gripped the phone. But eight years ago Booker had stuck by Hunter when no one else had, believing in him when most had doubted his honor. On that truth alone Hunter’s business, his success—even the contentment he’d eventually found in his new life—none of it would have been possible without the loyalty of his friend.