Make me lose control.
You have been OUTCONUS for too long, Hunt—out of the country and out of the bedroom. This was a hell of a welcome home. It was time for some much needed R & R, and he wondered what this Candy Valentine was up to.
A list of names had been faxed along with the fantasy, some of which read like a who’s who of Florida society. He’d grown up in the area, close enough to know the wealthy by name but not close enough for any of it to rub off on him. And there was an expensive, top-of-the-line Mercedes convertible in her driveway.
Was it possible she was some kind of high-priced call girl?
“This is an extremely serious offense.” He continued to play the hard ass, although now his curiosity was more than piqued. Especially because of the thin, healing scars running vertically along her right thigh and knee. “The military doesn’t look kindly on solicitations of this kind.”
But this letter sure as hell does it for me.
“It…this…wasn’t supposed to be,” she stuttered, and then she stopped and gained her composure. “I’m sorry about the mistake. This was supposed to go to a friend and I obviously faxed it to the wrong number. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“A male friend?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said it was supposed to go to a friend….”
“Oh. No. It was for a female friend.” Her blush was visible through her tan, and she shifted from one bare foot to the other as she crossed her arms. “It’s not what you think.”
“I’m thinking a lot of things right now,” he said.
“I don’t see how the specifics are any of your business. I’ll take those back and you can be on your way.” She reached out for the papers but he pulled them away.
“No can do. It’s official government property.”
“What does the government want with something like that?”
“It’s become part of our records. Any and all unauthorized documents that come through our fax lines have to be investigated and properly recorded.” That wasn’t exactly true. It was also up to his discretion as to whether or not to drop this matter, but watching her defend herself was turning him on almost as much as her words on paper had.
“So there’s going to be a file somewhere in our federal government titled Carly’s Fantasy?” she demanded.
Hell yes, only it’s going to be in my personal file.
“I don’t know who Carly is,” he spoke with a formal tone. “This fax was sent by Candy Valentine.”
Busted. 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
