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Carly battled the bothersome regret trying to worm its way in. “It was a couple of rogue comments that started the trouble.”
Abby let out a snort. “I’ve met Hunter, remember?” She began to weave through the noisy crowd toward the front door. “And I doubt he’s gonna care who started the trouble. He’s only gonna remember where it happened.”
True. Because Abby’s attire might conjure images of vampires, but who wound up resembling the real bloodsucker today? Carly Wolfe, daughter of the notorious William Wolfe, the ruthless man who put results before all else.
Even his own daughter.
She pushed the bitter memory aside and concentrated on the guilt that had been trying to hijack her all day. When a few of the blog commenters had taken up the virtual vitriolic pitchfork and called for Hunter’s blood Carly’s heart had sunk. She had no problem with tossing a few, or twenty, truth-filled sarcastic jabs in his direction, but the vicious turn of the comments had been awful.
But it was done. Time for the pesky little guilt gnats to swarm around someone else.
Carly followed her friend into the old bar. In anticipation of its fifth annual drag queen pageant every inch was packed, from the scuffed wooden floor to the sea of tables and the long bar lining the wall, crowded with patrons of all ages and walks of life. Instantly her tension eased. It was the perfect place to put today behind her.
But Abby clearly wasn’t on board. “I’m worried about you, Carly.” Hardcore and gloomy on the outside, creamy sensitive filling on the inside, Abby went on. “Hunter Philips is trouble.”
Let me count the ways, Carly thought as she trailed Abby through the crowd. He was irritatingly sexy, intriguingly mysterious and possibly criminal, just for starters. “I just want to interview last year’s pageant winner and forget about today, okay?”
“Good luck with that,” Abby said as she came to a halt, and Carly almost plowed into her back as she continued. “Because he might have something to say about your plans.”
Her throat suddenly tight, Carly peeked around Abby. Her gaze landed on Hunter, leaning against the bar. She let out a groan.
Her day had officially gone from bad to worse.
From across the room, his frosty gaze slid to hers, landed, and claimed her attention—something the man excelled at. Her body vibrated and her heart thumped louder than the subdued music pulsing through the speakers hanging from the ceiling.
“What are you gonna do?” Abby said, staring at Hunter.
Nerves scrambling for cover beneath the force of his gaze, Carly said, “I’m thinking.”
* * *
From his position at the bar Hunter stared at Carly, disappointed in himself. Even after today’s blog posts, he couldn’t help but appreciate the miniskirt hugging legs that had taunted him during the first show. The hot pink blouse left her shoulders bare. And her sleek brown hair was loosely pulled back, displaying the elegant curve of her neck.
“Now that she’s here,” Booker said from beside him, breaking Hunter’s mental listing of her attributes, “are you going to go over there?”
“No.” Elbow on the bar counter, Hunter kept his gaze on Carly as he answered his friend. “I’m going to make her come to me.”
“How do you know she will?”
Despite today’s online disaster, despite everything this troublemaker had put him through, Hunter’s lips tipped up at one end. “She won’t be able to help herself.”
“Does she have a problem with impulse control?” Booker said dryly.
Memories of her crossing her legs on that first show and circling him in the alley brought a faint smile to Hunter’s face. “You might say that.” His gaze lingered on the pretty reporter—a frustratingly fascinating mix of good humor, determination, moments of genuine warmth...and the occasional sultry come-hither vibe. “Impulse control is especially difficult when her curiosity gets the better of her or she’s backed into a corner.”
“Dude, she’s backing us into a corner. After her post today my secretary fielded no less than ten calls from clients asking about the negative publicity.” Booker’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I still say the worst of those comments came from blog trolls planted by our competition.”
“I think our business competitors have better things to do with their time,” Hunter said, suppressing a smile, and then he eyed the lovely Carly Wolfe again. “But it’s definitely time to forgo the defensive and embrace the offensive.” Something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
An unexpected anticipation surged, and eagerness permeated Hunter’s every cell with the old familiar thrill of the chase. He was looking forward to carrying out his plan...
