Tonya smiled at the tall, slender college professor who, though nearing sixty, was still able to turn a woman’s head regardless of her age. His cropped silver hair and goatee were the perfect complement to his tawny-brown complexion. Hannah looped her arm with her husband’s. “I’ve been telling Tonya that she’s going to become a much sought-after caterer once folks eat what she’s prepared tonight.”
Crossing her arms under her breasts, Tonya shook her head. “I’m not accepting any orders until I open my restaurant. Right now I’m committed to working at Chez Toussaints until that time comes.”
St. John smiled, and attractive lines fanned out around his light-brown eyes. “You sound like a Toussaint.”
A slight frown appeared between Tonya’s eyes. “What does a Toussaint sound like?”
“We Toussaints have a rule that we won’t work at another restaurant unless it’s owned by a family member.”
Tonya wanted to tell St. John that she wasn’t a Toussaint, although Eustace had come to regard her as family. He also told her St. John’s paternal grandmother had been a Toussaint.
“I’m not going to bake the Thai and General Tso’s chicken until your guests arrive because they should be served immediately,” she announced, deftly directing the topic of conversation away from the Toussaints.
She had decided to make three Asian chicken dishes: baked General Tso, Thai sweet chili, and spicy Korean wings. Thanks to Eustace she now felt confident enough to prepare grilled honey Cajun shrimp. Her extensive menu also included bourbon whiskey meatballs and a spicy green salsa. She rounded out the menu with tabbouleh, a basil pesto hummus, and a vegetable platter for vegetarians.
Reaching into the pocket of his shirt, St. John removed a folded check. “Hannah told me you won’t give her a bill for catering the food, but I’m not my wife, so I want you to have this.”
Tonya held up both hands. “I can’t, St. John.”
“Yes, you can.” He took her hand, placed the check on her palm, and closed her fingers over it, glaring and daring her to refuse it. Nodding, she slipped it into the pocket of her black pinstriped pants. “That’s better.” The doorbell rang, and he reached for Hannah’s hand and kissed the back of it. “That must be our first guest.”
Hannah nodded, smiling. “Let’s get this party started.”
They left to answer the door, and a minute later LeAnn walked into the sunroom. “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered under her breath. “I’ve never seen a charcuterie and cheese spread like this one.”
Tonya laughed at her stunned expression. “I decided to go with a different theme from the usual buffalo wings, guacamole, and chips.”
“Honey, you really outdid yourself with this banquet. Like Emeril says, you really kicked it up a notch. It’s funny that I never thought of you as a chef until now. Maybe it’s because you’re wearing your outfit.”
Tonya glanced down at the white three-quarter-sleeve chef’s coat and black pinstriped chef’s pants. Tonight she had covered her hair with a pinstriped black skullcap instead of her usual bandana, and black leather clogs added several inches to her five-five height. She wanted to tell LeAnn that she hadn’t worn her chef attire since last May when she was downsized from Wakefield Hamilton.
She heard a familiar baritone, and then she saw Gage with Hannah. Her eyes met his, as a slow smile parted her lips when he set down a plastic crate near a portable bar. Not seeing him for a week made her senses spin so that suddenly she felt like a breathless girl meeting her idol for the first time. It took all of her self-control not to launch herself at him and kiss him with all the desire coursing through her body. There were times when she wanted Gage so much that she had to bite her tongue not to blurt out to him to make love to her. Then her mind played tricks on her in which she would dredge up old fears that made her a prisoner of her own emotional fear: the trepidation that she’d fall in love and it would result in her letting her heart overrule her head. Tonya found it ironic that she could tell Jasmine and Nydia how to deal with the men in their lives, and now she needed someone to tell her how to deal with hers.
“Tonya, are you okay?”
She blinked as if coming out of a trance and she turned to look at Hannah. “I think so. Why?”
“Because you look like a deer caught in the headlights.”
“I’m going to need your opinion about something.”
Hannah rested a hand on Tonya’s back. “Is that something named Gage Toussaint?”
Tonya went completely still, wondering whether Hannah was that perceptive or she was that transparent. “You know?”
Hannah smiled. “I only know because of the way he’s staring at you. And I must confess that my cousins mentioned they saw him bring you back to the house.”
“That’s the day he took me to his house for Sunday dinner.”
“So, you’re seeing each other?”
“Yes. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
“I think I know what’s bothering you, because I went through the same thing when I got involved with St. John. Come over tomorrow after you leave the restaurant and we’ll talk.”
* * *
Gage picked up a bottle of water, opened it, and took a long swallow before making his way over to Tonya. A single glance at the table with the meat, cheese, and fruit epitomized her training and extraordinary creativity. It was the perfect blueprint for a still life.
