Coming Undone. Stephanie Tyler
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Her mouth dropped for a second, but again, he gave her credit for her quick pick-up. “Carly’s my nickname,” she offered, and then looked angry at herself for giving him that information. The nickname fit her—she looked like a Carly. She looked really, really good, too, and he wondered if it would be against any and all regulations to ask her out on a date, right then and there.
After he did his job and got this mess sorted out, of course. After he found out that she wasn’t a hooker.
“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how you got ahold of a secure fax number. And why you’re using an alias.”
“It was a mistake. I reversed the last two numbers and I’m not using an alias. And I’d appreciate it if we could let the whole matter go.” She was telling the truth on both counts. He could tell by the way her gaze held his steadily and the way she kept her voice low, so whoever was in the next room couldn’t overhear.
She was a woman with a secret, but she’d already spilled some pretty personal ones on the papers he held in his hand.
“You look familiar,” he said suddenly, and that wasn’t just a pick-up line. “I’ve seen you somewhere before….”
“Well, you haven’t. So if you’ll give me back those pages, I won’t tell anyone about this.”
He could do that. Or he could take this whole thing one step further and risk having her call his superiors.
He was used to tougher risks than this. “So tell me, Carly. Is this one of your fantasies?”
The flush spread again, over her nose and the smattering of freckles. “Are you here to make fun of me or to find out if I’m some kind of terrorist fantasy-writer?”
“I’m not here to make fun of you,” he said.
“Then what are you going to do about this? Are you letting it drop?”
“There are two problems I have to deal with before I can do that.”
“And what would those be?”
“First of all, I need to know how and why you have a list like this, complete with addresses and phone numbers of some of the wealthiest people in Palm Beach.”
“And what’s the second problem?”
He leaned in and smiled. “You didn’t finish the fantasy.”
“Carolyn? What’s going on?” An attractive woman, who looked much younger than she probably was, came up behind Carly and smiled when she saw him. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t realize you had company. Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
THE CHANCES OF A situation like this happening were slim to none.
The chance of you taking that wave is slim to none, Carly, her old coach’s voice echoed in her ear. On that particular day, the odds had been in her favor. The trophy was situated proudly in her office.
It seemed as if her life was full of chances the book-makers wouldn’t dare gamble on. So what was one more?
Oh, this was so not good.
“Mother,” she began, well aware this man could probably read the slight panic that had to be showing on her face.
Said man stepped forward and extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Jonathan Huntington, but you can call me Hunt.”
“Hello, Hunt.” Carly would’ve laughed at the way her mother said the nickname, but she was beyond having fun. “I’m Carolyn’s mother, Sheila Winters.”
Her father came from nowhere and shook Hunt’s hand. “Carl Winters III. You must be related to the West Palm Huntingtons.”
“No, sir.”
“Ah, the New York Huntingtons then. Huntington Oil.”
Again, Hunt shook his head. “I grew up a short distance from here, but my family wasn’t in the oil business.”
This was like living in some alternative universe where things like erotic faxes and sailors and parents ended up together in one place. This was not the planet Earth Carly knew and loved.
“And you’re in the military?” her mother asked, and Carly gave her mental kudos for changing the subject so deftly. Part of the whole white-glove upbringing.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, we’re very patriotic. In fact, I ran a charity auction for our troops last month.”
“We appreciate the support,” he said.
“So, this is the gentleman you were telling us about, Carolyn?” her mother asked.
Just kill me now.
Heck, for all she knew, Hunt could be an axe murderer.
“Um,” she said, looking into Hunt’s eyes and wondering how far he would be willing to go with this ruse. He hadn’t mentioned the fax yet, so maybe she could get through this with some pride intact.
“I guess that’s why my ears were burning. I just got off work and stopped by to see if Carly wanted to catch some dinner,” he said without a trace of hesitation in his voice. He grabbed her hand, his thumb traced her palm and then he brought it to his mouth and kissed it.
Okay. Not an axe murderer, but he was definitely going to kill her if he kept doing things like that.
Samantha was right. It had been way too long for Carly. And she wanted a lot more than dinner. She wanted to sink into the sand, never to be seen again. Then again, a big part of her wouldn’t mind pulling Hunt down with her.
He knew her fantasy, knew how she wanted to be touched and where….
No, he didn’t know anything, she told herself firmly. When her parents left, she’d explain things to this Hunt person. He was in the military, and they must have a code, or some kind of moral obligation that would make him keep his mouth shut and protect her secret.
Why else was he playing along with this dinner thing?
“We’ve finished dinner, but we haven’t had dessert yet. Why don’t you join us?” Sheila Winters asked.
“Dessert sounds great,” Hunt said with obvious enthusiasm. Carly fought a gasp and squeezed his hand instead, since he hadn’t released hers. He took the opportunity to pull her closer and she swore he was hypnotizing her parents, right in front of her.
Granted, it was a trick she’d be more than happy to learn.
“I’ll pour the coffee. Come help me, Carl,” her mother urged with a smile on her face. A smile. Hunt definitely had to have some kind of special superpowers, which didn’t bode well for her.
When her parents were a safe distance away, she whispered, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Apparently, helping you out of a jam,” he said with an innocent shrug. It would have worked, too, except the man was far from innocent. There was something so commanding about his presence that she’d been ready to spill everything, until common sense had taken over.
Hunt was in the military, and all the guys probably gave off that air. Still, she’d known him for less than five minutes and she already knew he was nothing like any man she’d ever met. What were the chances…
“Wait a minute. I thought SEALs were stationed in California and Virginia?”
“We pop up in a lot of unexpected places,” he said.
“I’ll bet you do. And how will you pull this off?” she asked.
“How will we pull this off, is the bigger question? Because your parents think I’m your significant other, and you didn’t tell them I’m not.”
“You went along with it.”
“You