She didn't intend to make an entrance, for heaven's sake. But Hayley had already gone off, and she did want to check her lipstick. And settle herself down.
At least her nerves over this date - it was a date this time - had taken a backseat to others. It hadn't been Hayley's reflection in the mirror. Even that quick glimpse had shown her the woman who'd stood there had blond hair.
Steadier, she walked out, started down the hall. From the top of the steps, she heard Hayley laugh.
"She'll be right down. I guess you know how to make yourself at home. I'm going on back to the kitchen with the rest of the gang. Let Stella know I'll say bye from her to everyone. Y'all have fun. "
Was the girl psychic? Stella wondered. Hayley had timed her exit so adroitly that as she walked down the hall, Stella hit the halfway point on the steps.
And Logan's attention shifted upward.
Good black trousers, she noted. Nice blue shirt, no tie, but with a casual sport coat over it. And still he didn't look quite tame.
"Nice," he said.
"Thanks. You, too. "
"Hayley said she'd tell everyone you were leaving. You ready?"
"Sure. "
She stepped out with him, then studied the black Mustang. "You own a car. "
"This is not merely a car, and to call it such is very female. "
"And to say that is very sexist. Okay, if it's not a car, what is it?"
"It's a machine. "
"I stand corrected. You never said where we were going. "
He opened her door. "Let's find out. "
* * *
He drove into the city, with music she didn't recognize on low. She knew it was blues - or supposed it was, but she didn't know anything about that area of music. Mentioning that, casually, not only seemed to shock him but kept conversation going through the trip.
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She got a nutshell education on artists like John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters, B. B. King and Taj Mahal.
And it occurred to her after they'd crossed into the city, that conversation between them never seemed to be a problem. After he parked, he shifted to take a long look at her. "You sure you were born down here?"
"It says so on my birth certificate. "
He shook his head and climbed out. "Since you're that ignorant of the blues, you better check it again. "
He took her inside a restaurant where the tables were already crowded with patrons and the noise level high with chatter. Once they were seated, he waved the waiter away. "Why don't we just wait on drinks until you know what you want to eat. We'll get a bottle of wine to go with it. "
"All right. " Since it seemed he'd nixed the pre-dinner conversation, she opened her menu.
"They're known for their catfish here. Ever had it?" he asked.
She lifted her gaze over the top of her menu, met his. "No. And whether or not that makes me a Yankee, I'm thinking I'll go for the chicken. "
"Okay. You can have some of mine to give you a sample of what you've been missing. There's a good California Chardonnay on their wine list that'll go with both the fish and the bird. It's got a nice finish. "
She set her menu down, leaned forward. "Do you really know that, or are you just making it up?"