Dare She Kiss & Tell? by Aimee Carson

Philips is a bit too cut and dried for the term.”
    The host chuckled and said, “You don’t think he’s a romantic?”
    Carly rested her arm on the back of the couch. Their forearms were now lightly touching, the tips of their fingers each brushing the other’s elbow—briefly breaking Hunter’s focus. Carly’s sparkling gaze remained on his.
    “You mean beyond Mr. Philips’s efficiently designed app? The one he uses to
gently
tell a woman it’s over?” A murmur of amusement moved through the crowd. Despite the dig, Hunter’s lips twitched. “I’m sure I have no idea,” Carly finished.
    But her eyes told him she did, and Hunter fought the smile that threatened.
    “Speaking of The Ditchinator,” Brian O’Connor said. “Today it moved to number five on the top sellers list. Carly has vowed to keep up the pressure until you discontinue the app. She’s also mentioned she’d like to hear about the inspiration behind the idea. In fact all of Miami is interested.” He leveled a pointed look at Hunter. “Care to share your thoughts?”
    “Discontinuing the app isn’t in my plans at this time,” Hunter said truthfully, deliberately ignoring the mention of the story behind its creation. That was one truth he had no intention of sharing.
    Clearly delighted, the host said, “Can I interest you in returning in a few weeks to discuss how you’re holding up against Carly’s campaign?”
    Hunter glanced at Carly, who looked as if she wanted to laugh, and he could no longer restrain the smile. Since Carly Wolfe had entered his life tedium was certainly no longer a threat. In fact the excitement might very well do him in. Butthe thought of the two of them being through after tonight left him feeling disappointed.
    “I’ll accept the offer to return if Carly does.” Hunter shot Carly a meaningful look. “Though I’m sure Ms. Wolfe will eventually tire of her game.”
    “Of course I accept.” Her eyes on Hunter, Carly’s tone was a heady mix of amusement, arousal…and a hint of resigned irritation. “And I guarantee I won’t grow tired.”
    A slight pause ensued, and Hunter appreciated the mixture of emotions in her eyes—until the host interrupted.
    “That’s right,” Brian O’Connor said with a chuckle. “Tenaciousness runs in the family genes. Carly’s father is
the
William Wolfe, of Wolfe Broadcasting.”
    Even though they were barely touching, Hunter felt the instant tension in Carly at the host’s words, and the light in her eyes dimmed a touch. As if she was preparing for the upcoming discussion to turn ugly. From his proximity, it was obvious the charming smile she was aiming at Brian was now forced.
    “Just to be clear,” Brian said, turning to address the audience, “there is no behind-the-scenes monkey business going on. Mr. Wolfe has never been involved in our decision to have Carly on the show.” He held up his hands on display. “No screws have been applied to either mine or my producer’s thumbs …” He hesitated with impeccable comedic timing. “Or to any other parts of our anatomy.”
    When the crowd’s murmur of laughter faded Carly spoke, her smile bright, her tone light—but Hunter knew it wasn’t genuine. “Anyone who’s worked with my father is familiar with his strict business policy, Brian. He would never apply thumbscrews on anyone’s behalf.” She hesitated, her smile growing bigger, but the heart was gone. “Not even his daughter’s.”
    Hunter’s brow bunched in surprise. It was the second timeshe’d said something to that effect, and he mulled over the development as the host chatted about William Wolfe’s current media holdings with Carly. She remained outwardly relaxed, her demeanor easy, but the tension in her body was palpable. And though the host’s comments were lighthearted, with every mention of her media magnate father her laughter grew more and more hollow. The audience was clearly oblivious, but the host
had
to sense her discomfort.
    It