Page 10 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

She narrowed her eyes, pretending to be insulted, though she suspected her grin was giving away how much fun she was having. “Anyway, to recognize my undisputable brilliance, my father threw a way-over-the-top party to celebrate. There were hundreds of people in attendance, most of them I didn’t even know. We were in the giant ballroom of a grand hotel Dad had recently purchased. He pulled me aside, said he had a gift for me. He handed me a contract that saidThe New York Bulletinwas mine.”

Hunter frowned and she was reminded they reallydidlive in two different worlds. “Bulletin?”

“It’s a major newspaper in the city. My dad owns it.”

“Don’t you meanyouown it?”

She shook her head. “I turned it down. A light went on in my head that night. I’d worked my ass off all through high school and college, earning good grades because I wanted to make him proud of me. I chose journalism because that was my dad’s major. He’d started his career as a reporter at theBulletin, working his way up through the ranks until he was the owner of that and at least twenty other media—newspapers, magazines, publishing houses, cable channels. From there he branched out into real estate—rentals, office buildings, hotels.”

Hunter took off his hat and tossed it on the backseat. He ran his hand through his light brown hair. Now that she studied him, she could see slight differences between him and his brother. Hunter’s hair looked a wee bit longer than Dylan’s and even though he was laughing with her, there was a seriousness around his eyes that she’d never noticed in his more easygoing brother.

His jaw was covered with stubble that indicated he hadn’t bothered to shave before leaving the house this morning, but she suspected that wasn’t normal. Dylan liked to joke about Hunter’s fastidious morning routine, which apparently always included shaving. She ached to reach out and rub her hand along the rough shadow. Every time he smiled at her, it framed some of the sexiest dimples she’d ever seen.

Annie watched him with hooded eyes, wishing he wasn’t so freaking gorgeous. With or without the hat, he took her breath way.

“Don’t you think your father’s gift was sort of special?” Hunter asked. “If theBulletinwas where he started, it had to have some sentimental value to him.”

“Maybe. But that wasn’t the point of all my hard work, was it? I didn’t want him handing me my future on a silver platter. I wanted to earn it, the same way he did.”

“I can understand that.”

“Yeah, well, my dad didn’t. Apparently he’d invited a ton of press to the party and he’d planned some grand announcement about me following in his footsteps. My refusal to accept the gift screwed up his moment in the sun.”

Hunter looked at her once more, but this time she didn’t complain about his lack of attention on where they were going. Instead she met his gaze, touched by the compassion she found in his deep-green eyes.

“My dad died of a massive heart attack when Dylan and I were fourteen. We had to find our footing fast. Luckily we had Mum. She’s a tough bloody bugger and a force to be reckoned with. She guided us, taught us how to run Farpoint, but she also let us find our own way with it, let us make it our own. She never told us we had to do things a certain way because that’s how Dad did it.”

“Your mom sounds awesome.”

The cutest crinkles appeared by Hunter’s eyes. When he smiled, his whole face expressed happiness. “She’s all right. I guess what I’m saying is no one ever told me who to be or how to live my life. If I fuck up, the blame’s all mine, but at least I had the chance to make the mistake in the first place.”

He did understand. Completely.

“That’s what I want, to have the chance to succeed or fail. My dad doesn’t agree. He says he’s worked hard all his life so I won’t have to.”

“I can understand wanting to take care of your kids, but you’re an adult now. I mean at, what, twenty-three, twenty-four, you’re ready to stand on your own two feet.”

He was fishing for her age, so she gave it to him. “I’m twenty-eight.”

“Ah, only a couple years behind me and Dylan. So what happened after you turned down the gift?”

“My dad wasn’t happy about it, but eventually he accepted my decision. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand exactly how hard it was going to be to cut ties to my family’s name. I managed to land a job at a small, independent magazine my dad doesn’t own, but now my boss, Mr. Lennon, seems to think I’m just slumming it. I sort of suspect the editor-in-chief pressured him to hire me as a favor to my dad or maybe as a feather in her cap, but I have no proof of that. Mr. Lennon has zero expectation that I’ll stick it out because, as he says, ‘It’s not like I need the money.’”

“Wow, what a wanker.”

“Plus, I sort of failed at the living-on-my-own thing too. I found an apartment in Brooklyn I could afford on my salary, but it didn’t have the best security and tabloid reporters broke in a few times and stole some personal stuff. The third time, I came home in the midst of the robbery. The guy freaked out about being caught red-handed. He shoved me down trying to get away and I ended up with a concussion when my head hit an end table.”

Hunter’s expression was thunderous. “Bloody hell! Hope they caught the fucker.”

Annie nodded. “They did, but my dad put his foot down after that and insisted I move somewhere safer.”

“Good for him.”

Annie’s heart warmed at how intently he listened. She genuinely liked Hunter Sullivan. He reminded her a bit of his brother, but she sensed there were some definite differences in their personalities too. Hunter’s sense of humor seemed slower to come and more sarcastic, where Dylan was clearly a fun-loving guy who was quick to laugh and joke. Hunter also had a bit of a bad-boy edge Annie had never seen in Dylan. His easy acceptance of a kiss from a strange woman in the airport and the way he’d turned her friendly buss into pure lip sex proclaimed that loud and clear.

“Now I live in a high-rise Manhattan apartment with top-notch security that my dad pays for. It makes it hard for my colleagues and Mr. Lennon to accept my assertions that I want to be self-sufficient.”

“The olddamned if you do, damned if youdon’tscenario, eh?”

---