Hooked

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 didn’t have any kids. So when she needed help, I moved her in with me. It was something, being with her 24/7. We played cards and planted flowers and watched a bunch of sappy movies. I took her out into the desert to gaze at stars and I even took her fishing. She made me bait her hooks and then she was the one who caught all the fish.” He gave a low, pained sigh, as if seeing it all again in memory. “And when things got bad, I rubbed her shoulders and held her head…saw to it that she took her meds….” His voice softened. “I’ve never seen anybody so brave in my life. With all she went through…she still could laugh and clown around and worry about other people. And when it was done and she was gone, it was the biggest…emptiest…”
    He halted. Muscles in his jaw tensed as he worked to master the feelings he’d dredged up. “Sorry,” he said after a moment, looking down. “Not used to going there.”
    “It must have been awful for you.” She took refuge in a sip of coffee, fighting to swallow it past the lump in her throat.
    “Awful and beautiful. Probably the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. And the hardest.” When he looked up again, she glanced away, as if trying to spot their waitress. There was a brief silence in which she felt him studying her. “So, hey, what about you?” he asked, shaking off the somber mood. “How is the fashion business these days?”
    “Fine. Lots of things in the works. We open a new store every six months or so. A lot of late nights and waaay too much caffeine. I should have invested in a Starbucks or two along the way.” Her smile felt forced and she hoped he couldn’t see what it cost her. There was somethingin his gaze, something intimate and probing, something that made her feel vulnerable and exposed. “And what about you? Still at Damon’s, I guess.”
    “Absolutely. The best place in the world. Sporting man’s heaven.” He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning back. The tanned planes of his cheeks had a few new lines etched into them, but on him the wear of life looked right and appealing…even courageous. “I get enough time off to do some volunteer work, like CFR, and get in some fishing and some hugging.”
    “Hugging?” She cocked her head, hoping the drape of her hair would hide the reddening of her cheeks.
    “Yeah, I get to hug all the women on retreat Sundays. It’s the highlight of my year. Which may tell you something about the state of my life just now. I don’t get many…” He gave a pained smile, squared his shoulders and confessed, “My girls aren’t real keen on me just now.”
    “Your gi—Katie and Chelsea?” Steph brightened, pleased at the memories the names resurrected. “How are they?”
    “Katie’s a senior this year, Chelsea is a sophomore. Both too pretty, too grown-up and too damned independent. I’m just a walkin’ checkbook to them these days.” He dug out a wallet and flashed pictures of two teenage girls with fabulous smiles and brilliant hazel eyes. Their father’s eyes. Steph felt a warm spot in her middle, remembering them. She’d gone school shopping with them once, and it had turned out to be one of the highlights of— Don’t go there .
    “You, um, have any…” He halted, letting a rolling hand motion say the rest.
    “Kids? Plenty. Four nieces and three nephews, all under twelve.”
    “Oh, that’s right. Your sisters are there.” He paused, a muscle in his jaw working. “So, the move to Atlanta