Hooked Read Free Page B

remember. Worked for you. Little blonde with a million-watt smile.” He felt a pull in the middle of his chest as that thread of memory, now tugged, threatened to unravel a whole fabric of potent recollections. Memories of the silky side of Stephanie Steele. “It’s good to see you, Steph. I wondered, uh, about…”
    His throat was going dry. Coffee, he thought, as the hostess arrived with a steaming pot and a couple mugs hanging from her fingers. He needed to jump-start his brain.
    “Your table’s ready,” she said to Stephanie, who looked about to bolt.
    “I’m driving to the airport this morning,” she said, “a-and—”
    “And you could really use something under your belt before you go.” He waved a hand to direct her into the restaurant ahead of him. “Me, too.”
    She hesitated a moment, and he wondered if she was that reluctant to be around him. Then she gave in and entered the dining room.
    It seemed the most natural thing in the world, following Stephanie to a restaurant table; he’d done it dozens of times. Had he appreciated the view this much before? Her neat, well-toned shoulders, her well-rounded hips in a pair of perfectly worn jeans. The way she filled out that crisp white shirt with the rolled-up sleeves, and the easy grace of her walk in a pair of boots. As she slid into the chair at their assigned table, he caught the sway of her shoulder-length auburn hair and turquoise necklace, and suffered a moment of vertigo.
    His mouth went dry.
    * * *
    It was a good thing the table wasn’t far from the dining room door. Another two feet and Steph’s knees would have given out. She was in no shape to confront the embodiment of the memories that had had her tossing and turning most of the night.
    “So did you catch anything?” She managed a somewhat chipper tone.
    “Not really.” He grinned and her pulse skipped erratically. Finn Hartley had the most nibble-worthy lips, and when they drew back over those straight white teeth… “I mean, I wasn’t here fishing for myself. I was volunteering as a guide for Casting for Recovery. It’s a charity that puts on retreats for breast cancer survivors. Damon’s Sporting Goods donates a lot of the equipment.” He must have taken the dismay in her expression for disbelief, because he hurried to explain. “Really. I do it every year. It’s an all-woman retreat. Men are only allowed on Sundays, so that each woman can have her own fishing guide that day. It’s kind of a special group.” He paused to look up at the waitress who was filling their mugs. “Thanks.”
    Then he ordered enough breakfast to feed an army: eggs, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, sausages and blueberry pancakes. He’d always been a big breakfast man. Steph chose an egg-white omelet and a fruit cup.
    “The fishing I get,” she said casually, as the waitress left. “But breast cancer? How on earth did you get hooked up with that?” She put creamer in her coffee, stirred, and when she looked up at him, her breath caught. His angular face was sober and his hazel eyes had darkened. It wasn’t corporate philanthropy or even a desire to do some good in the world, she realized; it was personal. The long breath he took and the bittersweet smile that softened his intensity confirmed her thinking.
    “You remember my older sister, Janice?”
    “The librarian?” Stephanie felt herself bracing, praying it wasn’t that .
    “Three years ago she was diagnosed with a stage 4 breast cancer.” He paused and took another sip of coffee. “She fought for over a year, but the combination of chemo and the disease… She died two weeks before her forty-fifth birthday.”
    Steph waited a moment, wrestling with her own raw emotions, trying to get them under control before speaking.
    “I’m so sorry, Finn.” Every word required effort. “I know you were close to her.”
    “She practically raised me.” He smiled with what could only have been called pained pleasure. “She was divorced and