by Leigh Duncan
“Seconds?” He made his best, skeptical face. “Had to be longer than that. Five minutes, at least.”
“You’re a born fisherman.” The corners of her mouth twitched. “You already know how to stretch a story.”
He hesitated over the hand she extended. One part of his brain argued that he should keep his distance. The other insisted that Jess was only offering a congratulatory handshake and he’d look foolish if he didn’t take it. Determined to resist the latter, he grasped her fingers. But the sudden urge to pull her into his arms shocked him. He whirled so she wouldn’t see her effect on him and spun line into the air. The fly snagged the bushes behind them. He jerked to free it.
A soft crack wiped the tight smile from his face. He looked up to see the rod tip dangling from the end of the line.
“Oh, jeez, Jess. I’m sorry.”
He braced for harsh criticism or, at the very least, tight-lipped silence.
“No problem.” The bemused look on her face never wavered.
“Of course, it is,” he countered. “I broke your fly rod.”
“Yeah, but first rods always break.” She took the pieces. The line remained intact, and she reeled it in. “That’s why I wouldn’t sell you that Sage you liked.”
Sunlight glinted off the river and shimmered in Jess’s hair. He stepped back, putting some distance between them so he wouldn’t be as tempted to reach out and catch one of her curls in his fingers.
“I think I’ve done enough damage for one day,” he suggested. They had an hour before his lesson ended, but standing close to her in such a secluded spot was too unnerving. And from the way Jess was looking at him, he thought she might be feeling the same thing. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. A quick meal in neutral territory seemed like a good idea. “How about a bite to eat, instead?”
“Okay,” she said after a moment, “but you’re buying.”
Watching the woman who opposed his plans slosh toward the shore, Dan wondered what he was getting himself into. But a smile still pulled at his lips as he followed her.
Given their casual attire, the outdoor seating at Long Daggers made a good choice. While Dan headed for the walk-up window to place their order, Jess staked out seats at a picnic table. Sliding onto the wooden bench, she rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the temperature that had risen right along with the sun. She was taking a chance by eating with the dangerously handsome man who had set his sights on Phelps Cove. Her plan to sway him over to her side of the development issue was too important—she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by the feelings he stirred within her.
Determined not to let that happen, she drew on what she knew best and plotted her strategy while she laid out napkins and plastic cutlery. Didn’t the one who understood the quarry always catch the most fish? So far, what she knew about Dan wouldn’t help her win the battle. Sure, he could be full of himself, handing out orders he obviously expected to have obeyed, but there was more to him than that. She was sure of it. Like the foster care thing—she hadn’t seen that coming. So, what other secrets did he have?
“Dan, what led you into medicine?” she asked once he had settled a numbered flag and their drinks on the table.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” he said, squeezing lemon into a glass of iced tea.
While he stirred and drank, she blew on her coffee to cool it and took a sip.
“And surgery?” She thought back to what he’d said in her office. “What made you choose thoracic?”
“Seems I have a talent for knife work,” he said with a shrug that was both humble and endearing. “My mom’s death steered me toward chest surgery.”
The waitress appeared with their food just then, and Jess tore into her egg burrito, using the interruption to think about her own family. Her parents had retired to the Carolinas before she married Tom but, even though she didn’t see them often, the thought of losing them forever made her throat tighten. “How old were you when she passed?” she asked when they were alone again.
“Thirteen. Car accident. No seat belt.” He bit into his breakfast sandwich as if it offended him.
Jess inhaled sharply. If anything happened to her, Adam had his grandparents and Sam to rely on, but parents were supposed to stick around for their children.
That meant not racing across the shallows as much as it did showing up at PTA meetings and Little League. “There wasn’t anyone who…?”
The way his jaw worked, Dan might have been chewing tough leather. He shook his head.
She blinked to clear a sudden dampness from her eyes. “Was it as bad as they say it is?” Horror stories about foster care made the news all too often.
He sipped his drink. “The system isn’t easy, but I landed with people who kept me out of trouble. Took advantage of the free tuition at the state university. Grants, scholarships and loans got me through med school, so here I am.”
“I didn’t know college was part of the deal.”
“There aren’t many who get that far.”
“Really?” It seemed unbelievable that someone with a free ride would chuck it all away. From the time she could recite her ABC’s, her parents had let her know how important it was to get a good education. She intended to do the same for Adam.
“Kids in the system get moved around a lot.” Jelly threatened to drip from the edges of his biscuit. Dan eased it onto the plate without losing a drop. “Especially if they have discipline problems. And without parents, who wouldn’t? With all that shuffling, school records get lost. Kids are held back. Once discouraged, they quit school, take dead-end jobs and get locked into a life they wouldn’t choose for themselves.”
“You didn’t,” she pointed out before snagging a hash brown from his plate.
“I bounced around at first, but I wound up with a great set of foster parents. They preached the value of education. Made sure I talked the talk and walked the walk right through high school.” His lips thinned and twisted to one side. “I still might not have made it, though, if they hadn’t held on to me after I turned eighteen.”
“What happened then?”
“It’s called aging out,” he said. “Medical care. Children and family services. Monthly stipend. They all stop. With no more support money, most caretakers turn the kids out onto the street. The result is an even higher drop-out rate. And that—” he stopped to sip his iced tea “—is why Connections House is so important.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” she said. She wasn’t certain she wanted to, and pushed aside the remains of her burrito. At eighteen, she’d been a sophomore at Florida Tech. That summer, her biggest concern was how much spending money she’d earn working on the Lucky Lady, a deep-sea fishing charter out of Cape Canaveral. She couldn’t imagine having had to survive on her own at that age.
“It’s my answer to the problem.” Dan grabbed a napkin and sketched as he talked. “It’s a transitional housing complex where kids who age out of the system can live while they finish high school, prepare for college or learn the skills they need to get better jobs. I’m still in the planning stages, but when it’s finished, counselors and mentors will teach everything from how to handle a checkbook to the importance of showing up to work on time. And there’ll be an infirmary, since most of the kids won’t have insurance.”
She stared down at the rough outline of several cottages clustered around a larger, central building. His goal sounded like a worthy cause, an admirable one. One she’d give her whole-hearted support, as long as he built it anywhere but in Phelps Cove.
The solution seemed obvious enough. The customer base at On The Fly included practically every deep pocket in Brevard County. Surely, one of them owned land suited to Dan’s project. She’d help him find the right spot, a move which would free them to…To do what, exactly?
She shied away from an answer, choosing instead to concentrate on the beginnings of a plan. Her thoughts were interrupted when a well-dressed
businessman stepped to the end of their table and cleared his throat. Immediately, Dan’s relaxed manner vanished, replaced by the slightly arrogant demeanor that raised her hackles. Recognizing their visitor as an occasional customer in the shop, she nodded to him.
He swept the briefest of looks her way before turning his full attention to her client.
“Glad to run into you,” he said. “I had planned to call this afternoon, but this saves the trouble. If you have a minute?”
“Of course, Bryce,” Dan answered. He ran a napkin over his lips. “Let me settle our bill and I’ll be right back.” He rose, reaching for his wallet. “Jess, I’ll see you next week?”
“Sure, I’ll call your office with the details,” she said to a retreating back. She gritted her teeth against the sting of a short dismissal and turned to the newcomer.
“You may not remember me, but I’m Jess Cofer,” she said, managing a smile. “From On The Fly.”
“Great store.” Bryce’s head bobbed. “You still carry those tube flies with five-ought hooks and poppers?”
Jess knew the ones. “We have ’em. Planning to hunt billfish, are you?” Big fish called for the expensive double-rigs.
“I’ll need three dozen for a trip to Belize this spring,” Bryce said. “Assorted colors. Keep them for me and I’ll come by next month.”
Only someone who never fretted over invoices would ask her to put several hundred dollars worth of stock on hold, but Bryce had given her another piece of the Dan Hamilton puzzle. Given what she already knew about his trip, it followed that the men were business partners, and who was she to resist an opportunity when it was handed to her?
“Dan was just telling me all about your charitable work with Connections House. It sounds like an amazing project, but I’m wondering if Phelps Cove is the ideal location. Something not so isolated might be better for young adults.”
A flash of irritation crossed Bryce’s face before his eyes narrowed into a calculating glare. “My only charitable work,” he said, making the words sound like something he’d scrape from the bottom of his shoe, “is for the hospital. As for the land,” he fumed, “its very seclusion makes it the ideal location for a surgical center catering to my exclusive clientele.”
Jess folded her arms across her chest and leaned back on the bench. Tom had always known just what to say to change her mind and, when it suited his purposes, he’d bent the truth. His lies had put her squarely behind the counter of On the Fly when all she’d wanted to do was start a guide service. Was Dan doing the same thing? Had he spun a story out of thin air to gain her sympathy? If so, the man was in for a rude awakening.
Her gaze shifted from the arrogant doctor at the end of the table to the one settling their tab. She’d put too much work into Phelps Cove to let anyone wreck the soon-to-be protected habitat.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m needed back at the shop. As for the flies, they’re first come, first served. If you want them, stop by and pick them up.”
Bryce was scowling at Jess’s departing truck when Dan returned. “What on earth is your girlfriend’s problem?” the plastic surgeon demanded.
Dan shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
The woman who adamantly opposed their plans for The Aegean could be fun-loving and, he suspected, fun to love, but he had sworn to keep his emotional distance.
Apparently not ready to let it go, Bryce blustered, “Good. She’s not our kind of people. But why hang out with her if you two aren’t seeing each other?”
“She’s the guide I hired. She’s improving my cast.” In just a few short months, he’d have the skills he needed. That his technique was practically nonexistent? Well, that was something Bryce didn’t need to know. “Humph. She’s a nervy one. You know she refused to set aside equipment I wanted to buy?”
Dan did his best not to look amused. Whatever the reason, her reluctance gave him another chance to deepen his ties with The Aegean’s leader.
“Not a problem, Bryce,” he said. “I stop by On The Fly quite often. I’ll grab whatever you want next time I’m in the store.”
Looking suspiciously like the cat who’d swallowed the canary, Bryce smiled. “That’s mighty nice of you.” He swung another look toward the now-empty parking spot beside Dan’s car. “You want to watch out for girls like that. She’d wind up taking you to the cleaners, the way Chase’s wife is doing.”
Slowly, Dan nodded. It was a timely reminder. Though marriage didn’t factor into his immediate plans, he already knew the kind of woman he’d eventually wed. She’d be someone the elite of Brevard County’s medical society could accept. Someone who organized hospital drives and fundraisers. Despite his growing respect for the woman who balanced motherhood with running a business and looked extremely attractive doing it, Jess could never be more than his fishing instructor. Or maybe a friend.
To distract them both, he switched topics. “I spoke with my financial manager. There’s no problem meeting your schedule on the Merritt Island investment.”
Bryce’s demeanor changed in an instant. “Jack said you were the right man for our cadre.” He gave Dan a wide smile. “Good to know you’re on top of things.”
“Always,” Dan nodded.
It wasn’t every day a man from his background was handed the two things he wanted most out of life—acceptance among his peers and the opportunity to fulfill his dream of helping today’s foster kids make better lives for themselves. He couldn’t afford to ruin his chance to achieve those goals.
Another car swung into Jess’s empty parking space. Dan turned away, determined that his future with the fly fisher would be strictly business.
Chapter Eight
Dan rotated the shapeless blob on the fly-tying vise.
From his left hand, thread spooled over the tuft of fur in a perfectly smooth layer. He checked his progress against a color photograph and nodded. He might not be able to land a fish—yet—but surgery made him a whiz at tying knots. The finished product would fool even the most self-respecting bass into thinking it had found a nice juicy minnow. And wouldn’t that surprise his instructor?
The spool in his hand slipped and he overlaid the thread, creating a bulge.
Darn it, Jess.
His plan to keep things strictly business with the cute guide wouldn’t work very well if he continued to fantasize about kissing her. He stared down at a second mislaid thread. He had something to ask Jess and the longer he delayed it, the more his minnow was apt to resemble a lump of clay.
An hour later, the setting sun edged the horizon in red and gold as Dan climbed the stairs to Jess’s apartment over the fly fishing shop. The door at the top of the stairs swung open so quickly when he knocked that for one brief moment, he let himself think she was anxious to see him. Of course, that idea only worked if she stood in the doorway. She didn’t. Straight ahead, he saw nothing but light slanting through shutter slats on the other side of an immense loft. He looked down, straight into Adam’s widening gaze.
The boy shouted over one shoulder, “Mom! Dr. Hamilton’s here.”
Quick footsteps sounded before a slim figure moved in front of the shutters. “Dan?”
She didn’t sound all that happy to see him. He raised his head just as Jess stepped into a pool of lamplight. Irritation clouded her features and a chill he couldn’t ignore filled her voice when she asked why he’d come.
“The shop was closed so I took a chance you’d be home. I need a favor.”
Most people found it harder to turn him down in person, but not Jess. She held up a hand.
“Hold on a second.”
Her focus dropped to the boy whose tiny face had scrunched into a curious look. Her voice sweetened. “Adam, could you play in your room?”
“But, Mom, I want to see Dr. Hamilton. He’s my friend.”
“Please go to your room.” Jess’s voice made it clear the request was nonnegotiable.
“Yes, ma’am,” Adam said, but he didn’t look happy
about it. His little feet stomped down the hall.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Jess faced Dan again the minute a door slammed shut. “Let me make one thing clear. I’ve been burned by lies before and I won’t tolerate being lied to again. If that’s what you’re all about, you’d better head right back down those stairs.”
He could think of a dozen reasons why she wouldn’t want to see him. Phelps Cove was at the top of the list, but he was no liar.
“I haven’t lied to you, Jess,” he insisted. There were things he hadn’t told her, but who didn’t have a few secrets?
“Oh, yeah?”
He heard the challenge and squared his shoulders. Somewhere beneath her angry exterior was the intriguing woman he’d seen at Long Daggers. The more she dared him, the more determined he was to unearth her.
“What about your so-called home for foster kids? You said that was the reason you wanted to build in Phelps Cove. But Bryce didn’t know anything about it.”
“I never said we were building it there.” He mentally gave himself a swift kick in the pants—he should never have left Bryce and Jess alone together. “That location is ideal for a cosmetic surgical center. My share of the profits from that venture will fund Connections House.”
“Well, why didn’t he say so?” Jess moved closer and her voice evened, but her rigid posture said she still wasn’t convinced.
“Bryce doesn’t share my interest in foster care.” When she remained silent, he said softly, “I wouldn’t lie to you, Jess. We don’t share the same vision, but I’ll be honest with you about it.”
Though she uncrossed her arms, her stubborn attitude still showed in her posture.
“Huh,” she huffed. “So, why are you here? I hope you have a good reason for showing up on my doorstep.”
He did, though it took a second to remember that the boys and Regina were counting on him. At her invitation, he stepped into the main room of an apartment where a braided rug served as the roadway for a battalion of trucks and cars. Crayon drawings dominated artwork taped to the walls, reminding him that even a platonic relationship with Jess involved her son. He lingered near the door and got down to business.