HOOKED ON YOU (Paradise Cove) by Patrice Wilton Read Free Book Online Page B

time, joking around, talking fish and baseball, too young to have girl problems.
    They each waved up at him, then went back to scanning the clear blue water for fish. Colt popped another Tums in his mouth. The third in the past hour. Acid roiled around his stomach. Had heartburn too. Everything hurt inside and it was her damn fault. He’d been fine all morning. This sickness hadn’t started until she’d given her number to that asshole who looked like a daytime soap star. Handsome to the point of ridiculous. That thick black hair, blinding white teeth. What did she see in that guy?
    She’d dated him years ago. Colt knew she’d slept with him—her eyes had danced with excitement when he’d whispered something in her ear. That prick had had her first, and that burned a hole in his gut.
    But it wasn’t just about sex. It was more the fact that she’d be attracted to a man like that in the first place. Maybe she wasn’t all that different—could be he had believed it, because he’d wanted to. It was easy enough to be blinded by extreme wealth—the big house, the fancy cars, trips to anywhere in the world, first class resorts and high-end restaurants. His father had provided all that. They’d had a home in the Hamptons with a half-acre lot. Tennis court, huge pool, ocean at their doorstep. His father had kept a loft apartment in the City, on Madison Avenue, not far from the art gallery he owned.
    His mother, Marjorie, had a full-time chef, a personal trainer, and never had to lift a finger except to call for one of their hired help. He and his sister Chrissy had gone to private schools. They’d had huge parties a few times a year, and Colton had been allowed sips of the best champagne from the time he was twelve. He was a connoisseur: the best caviar, the world’s finest smoked salmon, a good shot of scotch or a vintage cognac—all by the time he was sixteen. His father had wanted his son to have refined taste and be a true gentleman. What a load of crap that was.
    “Dad!” Jamie shouted. “We’ve got one.”
    Broken out of his reverie, Colt watched Jamie wrestle with a fish. He’d caught a mackerel on his line and it looked to be a pretty decent size. “Need any help down there?” he called down.
    “Nope. I’ve got this.” Jamie had been around boats all his life, and could fish almost as well as his dad, or liked to think so anyway. Jamie began to reel it in and Raul had a netted scoop in his hand.
    Colt watched as the less experienced boy reached down with the long hooked net and nearly topple over. Jamie grabbed hold of Raul by his pants and together they got the flopping silver-coated fish on deck.
    “You want this, Dad?” Jamie knew it wasn’t a good eating fish, so he was ready to toss it back.
    “Up to you. We could smoke it, or let it live another day.”
    “I don’t like smoked fish. And we got grouper at home,” he said and tossed the fish back into the sea.
    Colt liked his decision. He’d taught his son to only keep what they wanted to eat—or for him to sell, and let the rest swim free. He guided “Bait Me” closer to the reefs, and his mind drifted off again.
    Back to his dad, and how his world had come crashing down around them in an instant. Right after his sixteenth birthday, Colt woke up to learn that his father was dead, and that everything he believed was a lie. He had loved and worshipped his handsome, elegant, and brilliant father. Yet he hadn’t known him at all. The man his father portrayed was a fictional character. What lay beneath the expensive clothes and sophisticated exterior was a clever, gifted sociopath who made his living duping other people. His dad had been an extremely talented artist, but his real gift was copying famous artist’s styles and selling new work under their names. He displayed them from his well respected art gallery and had them on loan to museums. Over two decades, he’d managed to deceive the art critics of the world, and the most