A beat passed. “Aren’t you the chef who will be cooking for Hannah once she opens her inn?”
Tonya knew it was premature to openly acknowledge she would take over the cooking duties for the café and supper club. She and Hannah still had to go over the contractual agreement making her an investor in the DuPont Inn. Then she had to discuss the details with her attorney. Once he assured her that it would be a worthwhile business arrangement, she’d sign.
“You’ve heard about that?”
Gage nodded. “Everyone’s talking about the DuPont House becoming the DuPont Inn.”
“Is the talk positive or negative?”
“It’s mostly positive.”
“What have you heard that’s negative?”
“That the DuPonts are cash-poor. And they’ve decided to convert DuPont House from a private residence to a business to raise enough money so they won’t have to sell it.”
“Is that what you believe?” Tonya asked him. She knew for certain that Hannah was far from being cash-poor, because she admitted her late naval career-officer husband, although he’d cheated on her, had made provisions that resulted in her becoming a wealthy widow.
Gage shook his head. “I don’t have an opinion one way or the other, but I like the idea that folks will have another place to stay during Mardi Gras when many hotels and motels are filled to capacity with out-of-towners. During that time some locals rent out rooms in their homes to make a little extra money.”
“Is that what you do?”
Stopping for a red light, he gave her an incredulous stare. “No. I don’t like strangers sleeping in my place.”
“Is that your decision or your wife’s?”
Gage’s expression changed, becoming one of amusement. “You’re not very subtle in wanting to know if I’m married.”
Tonya recoiled as if someone had slapped her across the face; she found him incredibly arrogant. Did he actually believe because of his good looks she would be interested in him? That he was so used to women coming on to him that he grouped her with the others?
“I could care less about your marital status, because whether you’re married or single has no bearing on my life.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
A Cheshire cat smile spread over his features. “Well, that makes two of us. I was married briefly, but it didn’t work out. What about you, Tonya? Did you ever take the plunge?”
Her former annoyance vanished as Gage went up several points on her approval scale. One thing she admired in a person was directness. Apparently there was no beating around the bush for him. “Yes. But like you, it didn’t work out. The best thing to come out of my marriage is my daughter.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-one. She’s now in her senior year at Spelman.”
“You don’t look old enough to have a twenty-one-year-old.”
“Is that a subtle way of asking my age?” Tonya teased.
The light changed, and the SUV shot forward when Gage stepped on the gas. “No. There are two things I’ve learned to never ask a woman, and that is her ageorher weight, because one or two have brought holy hell down on me.”
Tonya smiled. “I had just turned twenty-nine when I had Samara. Now you do the math.”
“You’re fifty!”
Tonya managed not to laugh when his jaw dropped. “Yes.”
“Damn, woman! You look good.”
Pinpoints of heat flooded her face. “Thank you. What’s the expression? ‘Good black don’t crack.’ ”
