Read Online Finding Hope by Brenda Coulter - Free Book Online

this one without sticking my head in to look for you.”
    She eyed his dark, stylish suit and wondered whether he was starting or ending his workday. When on duty he wore blue scrubs and a lab coat that was emblazoned above the pen-stuffed pocket with Dr. C. Hartman in red script. “Are you coming or going?” she asked.
    â€œI’m off until seven tomorrow night,” he said with a satisfied air. “How about you?”
    She wound thread around her needle to make a French knot. “I’ve been with Gramps all morning. He had arough night, and I didn’t want to leave until I was sure he was resting comfortably. I was just about to check on him one last time and then head home.”
    â€œAre you hungry?”
    â€œI’m famished,” she admitted. “But it’s my turn to buy.”
    He looked put out. “Hope, I understand your wanting to reciprocate when your other friends treat you. But it’s different with me. You can’t pretend I’ll ever miss the pocket change I spend on you. And what am I supposed to do—sit around twiddling my thumbs until you can afford to take your turn? Why should I have to suffer just because you’re poor?”
    He had her there. “Charlie,” she muttered, “you’re downright nasty.” Shaking her head in pretended disgust, she repositioned her embroidery hoop and tightened it. “Why don’t you go return calls or something?” she suggested. “I want to finish this. I’ll come down to your office in ten minutes.”
    â€œNo, I’m really free. Take your time.” He reached for his wallet and checked his cash supply. Apparently satisfied, he folded the wallet and replaced it.
    â€œSure you have enough? I’m really hungry.”
    â€œI have enough for anywhere you want to go,” he answered. With his foot he hooked the leg of an empty chair, pulling it towards him and propping his long legs on it.
    Hope cut a length of embroidery floss and separated the strands. “You think I’m unsophisticated,” she accused.
    â€œDelightfully so,” he agreed, shifting to a more comfortable position in his chair. He picked up her tiny scissors and examined them. “I’m sick of worldly women.”
    â€œYeah, right, ” she mocked as she threaded her needle.“This from a man who wears Armani suits and drives a Mercedes!”
    He ignored that. “How do you feel about Indian food?”
    â€œMmm—I’m wild about lamb curry. But today we’re limited to casual restaurants, unless you want me to go home and change.” She held out her arms so he could inspect her coffee-brown T-shirt and baggy black jeans.
    She supposed she ought to start dressing more carefully if she was determined to hang out with Dr. Moneybags. He always looked classy and she felt like a waif beside him.
    â€œYou’re fine,” he said with apparent unconcern.
    Easy for him to say. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of a fashion spread in one of those magazines she couldn’t afford to subscribe to. Just once she’d like to see him in blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt. Maybe with a shoelace untied.
    He interrupted her reverie. “It’s just lunch, Hope. Nobody’s going to call the fashion police on you.”
    She was unconvinced. “I won’t embarrass you?”
    â€œYou?” He looked honestly surprised. “Never.”
    Well, if he really didn’t mind, she wasn’t going to worry about it. She remembered something. “Charlie, how about letting me take you to a ball game tonight? A friend has offered me his tickets for the Cubs. First row in the club box, right behind home plate. I’ve already asked three girlfriends, but they wouldn’t dream of wasting a Saturday night with me and the Cubbies when they can go out with dashing young men, instead.”
    â€œSo I’m fourth choice. How very