Hooked

bigger stores?”
    “Sure is. Every year we have great sales and bring in fishing experts and tournament celebrities to kick off the Georgia fishing season.”
    “Every year?” She reached for her iced tea to hide her reaction. He’d been here in Atlanta before?
    “Lucky me, I have to travel to each clinic to manage the circus.”
    “So you’re like, Damon’s fishing guru?”
    He paused with a luscious shrimp hanging midair. “That’s me. The fish whisperer. The corporate go-to-guy for all things ichthyological.” The shrimp disappeared behind his beaming grin.
    “So when you whisper to a fish…what does that sound like?”
    He puckered up a fish mouth and made kissy noises that had diners at the next table staring at them. Steph whacked him discreetly on the arm.
    “Cut that out.”
    He laughed. “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know the answer.”
    He had her there.
    “Well, at least Damon’s has finally recognized what a jewel they have on their payroll. Even if it is a jewel in the rough.”
    He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice to a finger-tingling rumble. “If you’re trying to sweet-talk me, I’ll have you know—” he waggled his brows “—it’s working.”
    She couldn’t help laughing, and in that moment realized that she’d already laughed more in the last half hour than she had in months. Steph felt surprisingly at ease. One of the things that had always worked between them was their friendship, their enjoyment of each other’s company. It was surprising to find that part hadn’t changed.
    Later, just as her Atlantic salmon and his KC strip steak arrived, the sound of a muffled cell phone ringing caused him to check his pockets, produce a smart phone and turn the thing to vibrate before setting it down on the tabletop. A second later, he leaned over to look at the screen and frowned.
    “It’s okay, you can take it,” she said, more than a little curious about who might be calling him at seven on a Saturday night. He had been flirting with her, but Steph realized that was just his way with women—with her. It didn’t mean he might not have someone else in his life. The thought sent a cold spear of panic through her melting heart.
    “Don’t need to. It can wait.” He set the phone aside and turned back to her. “So, tell me about this Silk and Steele phenomenon. You’re now the fashion guru of well-heeled nineteen to thirty-nine-year-olds?”
    “Don’t I wish. We’re making inroads into the bigger markets and so far we’ve been able to keep things fresh and the quality high. We’re carrying some of the best new designers and lines in the business…Anna Sui, Eliza J, Phillip Lim, Tracy Reese, Rag and Bone. You know how it is—a lot of work, a lot of luck….” Steph shrugged to say that’s how it is in business , and he nodded in wry acknowledgment.
    “The expansion has kept me running,” she stated. “But I have a solid staff now and am turning some of the pressure over to them so I can make time for Mickey and for Beth and Laurie and their broods.”
    “And for your kitchen,” he added.
    “And for my kitchen,” she echoed, softening at the thought. “I’ll have you know I have totally mastered breakfast. Eggs any way, no problem. Omelets, crepes, breakfast hash, croissants, Italian-style paninis—I can do it all. My waffles are the stuff of legends.” She waved her fork in a circle. “That’s why I have that wraparound counter on my center island. I have the hatchlings over on Saturdays for breakfast.”
    “Hatchlings?” His brow crinkled.
    “The nieces and nephews. I make pancakes with fruit faces and biscuits shaped like wiener dogs—they think I’m Paula Deen’s long lost daughter.” She gave an unrepentant grin. “And I do nothing to disabuse them of that notion.”
    “You wicked woman, you.” His teasing was cut short by the buzz of the cell phone they had both forgotten about. This time he tilted the screen so he could read it, and scowled.
    “Is it important?” Steph asked. “Something to do with the clinic?”
    “It’s the girls’ mother. Probably another prom-related crisis or a curfew blowup.”
    “Or it could be something critical,” Steph countered. “If you don’t answer it, you’ll be wondering for the rest of the night what’s wrong.”
    “No, I won’t,” he said, turning it facedown on the table. “Now where were we? Oh, you were inviting me over for waffles—”
    And the blasted phone buzzed