he held Carly’s gaze as that secretive smile appeared “—my business partner.”
Unwanted remorse bloomed bigger in Carly’s gut as polite greetings were exchanged around her. Great, now she was looking at
two
reasons to feel guilty. Pete was cute, in a boyish kind of way that defied his description. Juxtaposed with the coiled, darker edges of his partner, he appeared downright innocent. And both men were looking at her with veiled accusation.
“I suppose your presence tonight is in response to the discussion on my blog,” she said.
“Discussion? The dialogue after your post was more like a …” Hunter’s voice died out, and he looked to his partner as if he needed help.
Carly knew very well he didn’t.
“Firing line?” Pete suggested helpfully.
“Bloodbath,” Hunter said.
“Or maybe a feeding frenzy?” his partner went on.
Hunter said, “Better still—”
“No need to go at it all night, boys,” Carly said dryly. She blinked back the wave of regret that had swelled the moment they’d started their repartee, but a small resigned sigh still escaped. “That wasn’t my intent.”
Despite the surrounding chatter, the electrically charged atmosphere popped. Two pairs of eyes were trained on her. Carly was only concerned with one set. Hunter’s.
“What
was
your intent?” Hunter’s voice was deceptively soft, with the same steely tone as when he’d faced the threat in the alley. “To lose our bet?” he said.
Her smile grew tight. “I’m sure the money your app is now making will make up for today’s below-the-belt punch.”
“Except
now
I’m getting called by every journalist intown,” he said, and then he lifted a brow with the first hint of amusement of the evening. “And it’s not my fault your efforts have shot the app sales to number ten.”
“Eight,” she said.
He hiked a brow. “Even better.”
Oh, he knew the number. Carly’s lips flattened, which made maintaining her fake smile difficult. “I should probably thank you for the flowers you sent me today, expressing your appreciation.” When the delivery boy had dropped the bouquet off at work, there had been no way Carly could receive the smugly sent flowers without retaliating via her blog. “But I won’t.”
Hunter’s eyes lit with full-on humor now. “I hope the orchid and miniature bamboo arrangement I sent was unique enough for you.”
Her mouth tightened. He
would
remember her words and get it just right. Just like he’d remembered her mention of tonight’s pageant. Boy, he was the first man in her life to really muck with her mojo. Carly’s lips compressed further, practically blocking bloodflow now, but she managed to bite out, “They were beautiful too.”
As Carly maintained Hunter’s gaze the tension blanketing their small foursome reached a smothering capacity until Abby broke the spell.
“Hey,” Abby said, “you two are killing my end-of-the-workday happy place.” With a less than happy frown on her black-lipsticked mouth, Abby turned to Pete Booker. “I’m going to enjoy a drink at a table that just opened up. You can join me if you want. And when you say no could you at least send the message via The Ditchinator to
[email protected]?
” With that, Abby headed toward the empty table.
“Uh …” An awkward expression crept up the brown-haired man’s face, and his gaze shifted from the back of Carly’screature-of-the-night friend to Hunter, and then to Carly. Most likely he was trying to decide which was worse—sharing a drink with a pessimistic lady simply dressed like a vampire or the two people who were actually going for each other’s throats. “Excuse me,” he said, and then headed off to join Abby.
Hunter watched the two with curious interest. “She doesn’t bite, does she?”
“Trust me,” Carly said, maneuvering into the empty spot at the bar left by Hunter’s partner. “She’s all doom-and-gloom bark on the outside and no bite on the inside.”
“Does
Unwanted remorse bloomed bigger in Carly’s gut as polite greetings were exchanged around her. Great, now she was looking at
two
reasons to feel guilty. Pete was cute, in a boyish kind of way that defied his description. Juxtaposed with the coiled, darker edges of his partner, he appeared downright innocent. And both men were looking at her with veiled accusation.
“I suppose your presence tonight is in response to the discussion on my blog,” she said.
“Discussion? The dialogue after your post was more like a …” Hunter’s voice died out, and he looked to his partner as if he needed help.
Carly knew very well he didn’t.
“Firing line?” Pete suggested helpfully.
“Bloodbath,” Hunter said.
“Or maybe a feeding frenzy?” his partner went on.
Hunter said, “Better still—”
“No need to go at it all night, boys,” Carly said dryly. She blinked back the wave of regret that had swelled the moment they’d started their repartee, but a small resigned sigh still escaped. “That wasn’t my intent.”
Despite the surrounding chatter, the electrically charged atmosphere popped. Two pairs of eyes were trained on her. Carly was only concerned with one set. Hunter’s.
“What
was
your intent?” Hunter’s voice was deceptively soft, with the same steely tone as when he’d faced the threat in the alley. “To lose our bet?” he said.
Her smile grew tight. “I’m sure the money your app is now making will make up for today’s below-the-belt punch.”
“Except
now
I’m getting called by every journalist intown,” he said, and then he lifted a brow with the first hint of amusement of the evening. “And it’s not my fault your efforts have shot the app sales to number ten.”
“Eight,” she said.
He hiked a brow. “Even better.”
Oh, he knew the number. Carly’s lips flattened, which made maintaining her fake smile difficult. “I should probably thank you for the flowers you sent me today, expressing your appreciation.” When the delivery boy had dropped the bouquet off at work, there had been no way Carly could receive the smugly sent flowers without retaliating via her blog. “But I won’t.”
Hunter’s eyes lit with full-on humor now. “I hope the orchid and miniature bamboo arrangement I sent was unique enough for you.”
Her mouth tightened. He
would
remember her words and get it just right. Just like he’d remembered her mention of tonight’s pageant. Boy, he was the first man in her life to really muck with her mojo. Carly’s lips compressed further, practically blocking bloodflow now, but she managed to bite out, “They were beautiful too.”
As Carly maintained Hunter’s gaze the tension blanketing their small foursome reached a smothering capacity until Abby broke the spell.
“Hey,” Abby said, “you two are killing my end-of-the-workday happy place.” With a less than happy frown on her black-lipsticked mouth, Abby turned to Pete Booker. “I’m going to enjoy a drink at a table that just opened up. You can join me if you want. And when you say no could you at least send the message via The Ditchinator to
[email protected]?
” With that, Abby headed toward the empty table.
“Uh …” An awkward expression crept up the brown-haired man’s face, and his gaze shifted from the back of Carly’screature-of-the-night friend to Hunter, and then to Carly. Most likely he was trying to decide which was worse—sharing a drink with a pessimistic lady simply dressed like a vampire or the two people who were actually going for each other’s throats. “Excuse me,” he said, and then headed off to join Abby.
Hunter watched the two with curious interest. “She doesn’t bite, does she?”
“Trust me,” Carly said, maneuvering into the empty spot at the bar left by Hunter’s partner. “She’s all doom-and-gloom bark on the outside and no bite on the inside.”
“Does
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