Read Hooked for Free Online

through a tightening throat.
    “This is Finn. Hartley.” He paused for a moment.
    “Oh. Goodness.” Could her brain cells have chosen a worse time to all go on vacation? “This is a surprise.”
    He gave a husky laugh. “I’m in town on business and thought I’d give you a call and see if—if you’d like to go out. Tonight.”
    “Tonight? Well, I—I…”
    “I was just watching our corporate chef fillet a bunch of fish at our fishing clinic and I thought, I bet Stephanie Steele still eats dinner.”
    His voice sounded a little odd. Was he breathing hard? Because she certainly was.
    “You do, don’t you?” he asked. “Eat dinner? I mean, you didn’t look like you’d gone totally over to the starvation end of fashion and I thought—”
    “Yes—I mean, of course—I eat dinner—still.” She cringed. Could she feel any more junior high? Aghhh—they didn’t even have junior highs anymore!
    “So yes , you still eat dinner, and yes, you’ll go out to dinner with me?”
    She caught sight of herself in the mirrorlike surface of the microwave door. Her mouth was open and flapping like a hooked fish’s. “I—I guess. Wait—you have a corporate chef?”
    He laughed and the sound glided over her like warm velvet.
    “Good. Pick you up at six. See you later.”
    He hung up.
    “Wait a minute,” she said, staring furiously at the handset. A deep shiver brought her back to reality. “Just like that? I don’t get any say on what time we go out? And no clue as to whether it’s a real restaurant or a hot dog stand?” As she jerked around, the fishing rod bent and poked her in the side. She dislodged it with a growl. “This is just like him. Call me up and…and how does he even know where I live?”
    She gathered up the gear and carried it back to the bench by the back door, where she dropped it with an indignant flourish.
    “I have a dog grooming scheduled, for pity’s sake. And I have to replant my impatiens. Not to mention prune my front boxwoods.”
    As if on cue, Mickey came bounding in with his favorite rubber chicken drooping from his mouth, and stood with his eyes gleaming and his feet spread, his best chase-me pose.
    “You, mister, are getting a bath and a haircut today,” she said, stalking him. “And this time you will not humiliate me in front of Alfredo and the rest of the staff at Chez Chien.”
    * * *
    At five-thirty, she stepped out of the shower feeling sticky and irritable. What in heaven’s name was she doing going out to dinner with a man whose very voice made her react in places she’d rather forget were part of her anatomy? Distance was her only hope this evening. Cool and friendly and always an arm’s length away. That was the plan.
    Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the steamy mirror and stiffened at the sight of her body. Cool and distant shouldn’t be too hard to manage.
    Mickey scratched at the door and she sighed, seeing in her mind’s eye the marks he was probably leaving in the mahogany. Whatever had possessed her to buy a dog that big?
    Too late for second thoughts. She was stuck with a playful monster of a canine who broke every boundary she established, and whose big warm eyes, eagerness for her, and affectionate nature melted her into puddles. Not even the memory of an indignant Alfredo covered in hair, snatching the check from her hand, could make her regret adopting Mickey.
    She opened the door with a hand extended to ward off the dog, but he was on the bed, head on his paws, miffed that she’d locked him out of the bathroom. At least she was able to dress in peace.
    Slacks. Black. White shirt with stand-up collar. Silk-and-cotton fitted jacket in a flirty modern print. She added a black belt with silver buckle and a waterfall of silver chains embedded with semiprecious beads. Casual, but stylish enough to make it through the door of a decent restaurant without raising eyebrows. She was putting finishing touches on her mascara when the doorbell rang.
    Her