Hooked

he asked, searching her face. She sensed he was asking about more than just the use of pots and pans.
    “I make time,” she said, wondering if she was revealing too much.
    “You do?” He turned that over in his mind, then grinned. “When you’re not walking that horse of a dog, you mean?”
    His smile melted the irritation she might have felt at his comment. “Yeah, when I’m not walking—or running after—my horse of a dog.” She inhaled sharply, annoyed at the way Finn seemed to be using more than his fair share of the room’s oxygen. “Mickey’s really a sweetheart. Gentle as can be with my nieces and nephews. The dogs at the dog park all love him.”
    “I bet they do.”
    A brief silence sent prickles—anxiety? anticipation?—up her spine.
    “Well, we ought to get a move on if we’re going to make our reservations,” he said, pushing off the door frame.
    “Reservations?” Her surprise was out in the open before she could stop herself. Finn Hartley never made reservations.
    “I thought you might be in the mood for a great steak. I booked a six-thirty table at McKendrick’s.” Finn paused a moment. “How does that sound?”
    “I love McKendrick’s. They have great seafood, too.” She grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter, and as they started down the hall, the glow from the skylight struck Finn’s chest. She stopped. His navy coat was covered in pale dog hair. Gobs of the stuff.
    “Look what he did to your coat.” She brushed awkwardly at his sleeve, but only succeeded in pushing the hair around. The rumble from Finn’s throat sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
    “Wait.” She headed for the sideboard in the entry hall and returned with a lint roller. But when she handed it to him, he looked at it as if it were an alien artifact.
    “For taking off the dog hair,” she said, motioning to his jacket. She watched him make a couple awkward swipes at his sleeves, and couldn’t help herself. “There’s more on your lapels and right there on your front.”
    “It’s no big deal.” He shrugged and thrust the roller back into her hands. “A little dog hair probably goes great with steak. It’s all protein.”
    So much for her plan to get through the evening by keeping him at arm’s length. She snatched the roller back and proceeded to use it on him.
    “Not that I’m complaining, but wouldn’t Miss Manners say we should at least have dinner before you roll me?” The grin in his voice said that he was enjoying this. “Ooh. Go over that spot again.”
    “Shut up, Hartley, and stand still,” she said, gritting her teeth to keep from grinning. Broad chest, muscular arms, big, supple hands—which did not need de-furring. The hair on his pants was a little trickier. She stooped to run the roller from midthigh downward—just a few hasty strokes.
    “There. You’re good to go.” When she stood upright, he was watching her with amusement and a spark of something more. She took a step back, squeezing the handle of the roller. He shocked her by taking it from her and peeling off the top layer to reveal a fresh surface.
    “I’m not the only one who could use a good rolling.” He took her by the arm and despite her resistance, pulled her closer. Bracing herself, she followed his gaze down to her slacks.
    Which was more embarrassing? The fact that her black pants were covered with dog hair or the fact that he was rolling it off with strokes so thorough and personal, he might as well have been using his hands? Steph refused to shrink until he turned her around and started running the roller up the sensitive inside of her leg.
    “That’ll do.” She lurched away and looked down at her pants.
    “It sure will.” There was that smile in his voice again, and she couldn’t stop herself from meeting his gaze. “You know, that was something I never expected to see—Stephanie Steele covered in dog hair.”
    The spark of humor in his hazel-gold eyes elbowed past her defenses to a memory of laughing with him. And with it came a memory of warmth, a connection, an intimacy that she’d enjoyed, but also taken for granted. Water under the bridge, Steele. Distance, remember?
    “I told myself it was a trade-off,” she said, leading Finn toward the door. “A little extra maintenance for companionship, loyalty and some unconditional love. Seemed worth it at the time.” She stuffed the roller back in the drawer. “Plus, he was the cutest puppy ever born. When I saw him I was done