Love Hook

By Kate Patterson

Genna Macmillan has been hurt and shockingly betrayed, so when she fishes a drowning man from the river, she is surprised by her stirring feelings. The hot stranger with enough charisma to melt an iceberg keeps reappearing in her life and Genna is falling, hook and line. Michael feels a passion for Genna that he never could have imagined. He can't resist the chemistry, even if he wanted to. For the first time in his life he wants a real relationship, but he is already spoken for and his girlfriend has no intention of giving him up without a fight. Driven by jealousy, she proves to be capable of anything. Will Genna overcome her fears? Will Michael's obsessive girlfriend have her way? Can there be a happy ending for Genna?

Full of tender, loving moments and snatched pockets of joy, a thread of hope gleams through the rough weft of this 50,000 word story. This authentic New Zealand romance by Kate Patterson will warm your heart and brighten your day.

Genna Macmillan has been shockingly betrayed, so when she fishes a drowning man from the river, she is surprised by her stirring feelings. This hot stranger with enough charisma to melt an iceberg keeps reappearing in her life, but is he already attached? Genna is falling, hook and line. Can there be a happy ending, or will Michael's obsessive 'girlfriend' have her way?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Patterson
• Release date: May 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310629761

Kate Patterson

Kate Patterson writes novels, short stories, poetry and flash fiction. She lives in the Cook Islands and in three New Zealand locations; Wellington, Waikanae and Raglan. She is currently married to two men, and has raised a dozen children. She has over two hundred years of experience in matters of the heart.Kate Patterson is the collaborative writing name of the following New Zealand authors: Rozellia Boland, Elizabeth Elson, Annie Muirgen and Sandi Sartorelli. This is Kate’s debut novel.If you enjoyed this short novel and would like to see more writing by Kate, or you have any other comments, feel free to contact us at [e-mail]

Book preview

Love Hook

Kate Patterson

Published by Sandi Sartorelli at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Kate Patterson

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Brilliant sunshine warmed the surface of the strongly flowing Rakaia River. Genna was in heaven. She had found peace and solitude at last, salmon fishing. Her new lightweight net waistcoat with tackle pockets left her arms entirely free to cast the light, strong line exactly where she wanted it. She walked into the river, carefully testing each step in her thigh waders so she didn’t stumble into any hollows which could throw her off balance. Today she would hook a big one. She could feel it in her bones. She looked very serious with her hair scraped back, cap on a sharp angle, and skimpy denim shorts with her brand new olive waders. She looked the part of a model posing for Hunting and Fishing magazine, but a lifetime of fishing with her dad ensured that she knew what she was doing.

When Michael arrived at the river he saw a beautiful stranger fishing from his favourite spot. Siren hot, with lightly freckled skin, this natural redhead was enough to put anyone off their plans. He headed upstream a little to show off by the rapids. He was looking back to see if she was watching his easy cast and drift technique, when he missed his footing and slipped, waders quickly filling with water. His rod washed away, lost to the rapids. Like lightning, Genna reached the bank, shucking her waders as quickly as she could. She threw her rod onto the bank and went into the river barefoot to try to rescue the man who was now in danger of drowning. He was under and rolling. She felt for his belt, yelling for help, and hauled and dragged and pushed him roughly to the shallows, propping him against some rocks. He weighed a ton. Coughing, spitting and now vomiting river water, the strong man had instantly become an invalid, sapped of his energy. He slipped from her grasp. Again she fought the swirling active water, slipping and sliding on slimy rocks, she grunted with exertion. Her heart felt like it would tear out of her chest as she heaved and hauled, using the deeper water to float him to a better rocky area to prop him up out of the rushing rapids to help him recover his breath. Roughly, with a surge of pure adrenaline and near superhuman strength she yanked him onto a rocky outcrop, pushing his bulk over into a semi-recovery position that her dad had taught her so long ago.

Genna collapsed on the bank gasping for breath, lungs on fire. She shook like an old man, teeth chattering, lips purple from the huge effort. She couldn’t get warm. As soon as she could cope, she saw to her catch, slapping his back, slapping his cheeks to keep him conscious propped unceremoniously on the rocks. How had she moved him? He was so much heavier than her 60 kilos. Gradually he came to himself - confused, sick and shaken to his core.

My God, you saved my life.

Looks a bit that way. She smiled weakly.

They were both dazed and confused. They rested, gathering themselves together. She opened her flask of brandy and they treated themselves for shock. She dried them both with her thick, rough towel and took smoked eel sandwiches, brie and ciabatta from her basket. He contributed fruit and a half bottle of red. Genna lit a small fire of dry cabbage-tree fronds and pieces of wood from around them. She made kawakawa tea with bush honey in the billy. They breathed in the warming steam, holding the cups in their shaking hands, finally drinking the calming brew when their shakes had subsided.

Guess I’d better introduce myself. I’m Michael. Michael Randell. Let’s celebrate being alive.

Genna McMillan, she responded. You really scared me.

Oh my God. How did that happen?

Your waders filled with water. They can be lethal. That’s why I invested in these quick-exit models. Genna was feeling easier now.

What in Heaven’s name were you doing fishing alone? It’s dangerous enough fishing for a man.

Actually I was fishing for a salmon. I caught a man instead. Her cheeky grin was infectious. Besides, what do you mean? It was me that saved you, remember, she replied indignantly.

You are so right. Not very manly of me, was it?

She looked up at him, laughing. Her heart thumped. Traitorous heart. He was gorgeous. Blonde, tall, tanned, intelligent brown eyes, a determined set to his mouth. A strong face, but kind. He was well cut, lean and muscled. What a catch. Genna laughed at the irony of the situation, remembering she had promised herself to hook a big one today.

What’s so funny Genna?

Can’t say. She pulled off her cap and shook her hair free. Naturally red, yards of it, rich and lustrous sprang down her slender back. She ran her hands through the unruly mop, and tossed it behind her. Michael could feel his body begin to revive, and warmth coursed through his veins. He was amazed at the effect of that kawakawa tea, or was it the red-haired beauty beside him? Genna looked away, but felt the chemistry building up between them. There was an awkward pause.

Let me take you to dinner tonight to say thank you properly? Michael noticed her hesitation and added quickly, No is not an option.

She turned and flashed him a smile.

In that case - yes. Not much point in fishing again today after that little adventure.

Where are you staying?

In the cottage behind the fly-fishing shop.

Pick you up at seven?

Are you sure? she responded, you took a bit of a beating back there.

Don’t rub it in. I bounce back fast. See you at seven. I’ll go now and sort myself out a bit.

She watched him walk away with a slightly bemused grin. As she packed up she ran over the events of the day in her mind. Over and over. Don’t obsess, she told herself. Obsess away said her body. She was imagining his kiss. Stop that. Remember, men end up letting you down, the treacherous bastards, she reminded herself.

Chapter Two

Genna changed her clothes twice before Michael arrived, settling on a simple white linen sheath with silver earrings and barely-there sandals on her long, brown legs. Her hair was bound by a single strand of black pearls. She glared at herself in the long mirror wishing she had packed something more sophisticated along with some sexy underwear. She shot herself a warning look. Slow down Jezebel.

She hardly recognized Michael when he pulled up a few minutes later outside the cottage in a sleek Jag.

I’ve booked a table at Saggio de Vino, he said as he opened the door of the car for her.

He was impeccably dressed, and smelt wonderful. He was quiet and politely attentive, but Genna sensed that his reserve and perfect manners hid the strength and confidence of a successful man, a man who knew his own worth - and probably his own attractiveness, too. It was a long drive to the restaurant and though they chatted lightly, enjoying each other’s company Genna could feel her heart racing. God. She hoped she didn’t sound as silly and breathless as she felt.

Saggio de Vino was perfect but she barely noticed the cuisine or the wine as she cast surreptitious looks at this charismatic new man in her world.

They talked a lot. About art, wine, their love of Europe. They discussed their favourite music. Their tastes complemented each other’s in so many ways. There was a deep unspoken connection between them and they were both powerfully aware of it.

When the conversation turned to their animals, Genna told a funny story about her beloved cat, Houdini, and Michael countered with an anecdote about his Saluki.

Oh, they are such beautiful dogs she exclaimed. Did you bring her with you on this trip?

No, I left her at home in Wellington this time. My girlfriend, Jessica, is looking after her.

Girlfriend? Did that mean just ‘friend’ – or partner? Genna fought to hide the disappointment she was sure showed in her eyes. Silly to think such a totally desirable man would not be attached. Anyway, what was she thinking? She told herself she was not in the market for romance. She was still hurting, and besides, she needed all her energy for her growing business. Men were definitely not on her menu.

And you, Genna – is there someone special in your life?

Michael was watching her with amusement. Dear God. Could this man read her thoughts?

I – no, not now. I mean – there was but it’s over. Yes, definitely. Over, I mean – . She was lost for words. How on earth had he reduced her to this stuttering mess?

She recovered herself and changed the subject, lifting her glass of wine in a toast.

To good fishing.

Good fishing. he responded. May you never hook a fish that is bigger than yourself.

I’ve never heard that one before. Genna laughed.

When I was a boy, my mother said it to me when my father took me out fishing, and I’ve never forgotten it.

So, did you grow up in this area? she asked. She had the feeling she had seen him before somewhere, but at the same time she was very sure the two of them had never met.

No. I’m from Wellington. I still live there, just down the road from where I grew up in Thorndon.

You’re joking. I’m a Wellingtonian, too. I wondered if I might have seen you before.

You could have seen me on television last year. One of my art auctions was televised as a fund-raiser for child cancer.

She had seen it. Most of New Zealand had been tuned in to the show that night. Through the generosity of the New Zealand people and Michael’s eloquent banter, a quarter of a million dollars had been raised in just two hours. He had been charismatic and entertaining – both him and the blonde bombshell who had draped herself around him at the end of the show.

Yes, I did see you. You charmed the whole country that night. Who would have thought an auctioneer could cause such a buzz. Genna paused, embarrassed again. Damn. There was no point in pursuing this any further. This dinner was just his polite way of thanking her for pulling him out of the river. So why did she want this evening to never end? And why was she feeling more alive than she had for months?

Michael leaned forward and warmly and firmly grasped both her hands across the table top, gazing deeply into her eyes.

Thank you Genna from the bottom of my heart for what you did for me. I will never forget this day, of that you can be certain. And next time, I will have to get up even earlier to make sure that I get my favourite fishing spot. Michael kept holding her hands and her heart flipped over and missed a double beat. She blushed and looked away feeling deeply stirred. There was so much depth to this man. Genna found him attractive on so many levels. She intuitively sensed all that he was. He was smiling at her and there was a wicked twinkle in his eyes as her cheeks flushed scarlet. She smiled back at him, then reluctantly pulled her hands away from his grasp. Nothing was going to happen here. This was just an interlude. They had met and they would part and that was an end to it.

It’s been a lovely night, Michael, but I have to make an early start if I’m to catch the ferry in the morning.

He paid the bill. They walked to his car and drove without speaking, each deep in their own thoughts until he dropped Genna off at the door of her cottage.

Genna turned to him to say goodnight. The power of his physical presence, the masculine smell of him, so close to her, was overwhelming. She desperately hoped he would take her in his arms, kiss her, and ask when he could meet her again. He turned towards her and her heart thumped wildly as she lifted her face to him.

Goodbye, Genna, he said softly, and left her with the lightest of kisses on her cheek.

Chapter Three

It was late the next day when Michael finally made it home to Wellington. Jessica, who had been house-sitting and minding the dog, was asleep on the ancient, overstuffed couch with a rug and a book. Cleo, his hound, raced to the door before he entered the house, hearing the motor of his car before it had even pulled into the driveway. He patted her and flicked her a treat. His girlfriend, Jessica, was not particularly fond of Cleo and sometimes commented that the damned dog got the best of his love. She didn’t like fishing either, finding it far too boring and solitary. She preferred to socialise every day and most of all she loved her horses. Seeing her now, Michael felt a flick of annoyance. He too often felt like an accessory around her and her friends. Everything needed to be her way, her plans, her horses, her friends. Me. Me. Me. It was not surprising that he needed to get away sometimes.

Sneaking past Jessica to his room, Michael put down his bag and went through to the bathroom where he ran a deep bath. He soaked in the warm water and drifted, recovering from the drive and the ferry trip. When he closed his eyes he felt guilty that the image in his head was of Genna casting her line just before he went under and all hell broke loose. Something about that girl felt so right to him. He always trusted his intuition, and it was speaking to him now, loud and all too clear.

Eventually he hauled himself out of the bath. He dried off and changed into a casual sweater and jeans and walked barefoot into the kitchen. He lit the flame under the Alessi kettle for a cup of tea. When it whistled he put out a second cup, remembering Jessica, who woke startled and rushed in to see what was happening.

I dozed off. How was your trip? You never even texted back. I was worried.

Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy now,