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his satisfaction that soon he would finally meet the mysterious Sophie. The woman behind the sultry voice. The powerhouse behind the new and improved Mayfield Bakery. And hopefully Eliot would be able to fill in the last few missing pieces of the puzzle.
     
    Sophie was more than ready to go when Wayne arrived to pick her up. Despite the painkillers, her ankle still throbbed. But even the pain could not distract her attention from the call she’d received earlier that morning.
    Her new baker sounded like something straight out of a wet dream. He had such a smooth, deep baritone voice. Just remembering it sent a chill down her spine. There was no way he could be as fine as he sounded, she thought.
    Still, she was eager to get back to the bakery to confirm or deny the fantasy she’d built up in her mind. And then there was that subtle challenge—at least, it feltlike a challenge. Eight simple words: I look forward to meeting you, as well.It felt like he was saying so much more. But then again, the whole thing—the voice, the supposed challenge—could all be the sum-total effects of being without a man too long. Sophie chuckled at her own ridiculousness. All this over a two-minute conversation.
    Just then Wayne came through the door. “Hey girl, you ready to go?”
    “In a minute. I have to wait for the orderly with a wheelchair. Hospital policy. So, what do you think of our new baker?”
    As if he’d been waiting for the opening, Wayne exploded in frustration. “How the hell you gonna hire a baker without telling me or at the least Mama Mae?” He began pacing in front of the bed, where she lay with her leg propped up on a pillow. “This guy shows up looking like he stepped out of the pages of GQ—”
    “Really?!”
    Wayne suddenly stopped and turned slowly in her direction.
    Sophie cleared her throat quickly and tried to tamp down her enthusiasm. “Really?”
    Wayne just watched her with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, really.”
    “But what do you think of him, Wayne?” she asked, leaning forward. “I trust your judgment.”
    “I don’t like him.”
    “Why? Did he do something?”
    Wayne shrugged. “Nope. Just don’t like him.” He started pacing again. “Although, I must admit he knows his way around a kitchen.” He glanced at her shyly. “I’ve had him doing grunt work all day.”
    “Wayne! This man is a premier chef and I have the offer letter to prove it. Please don’t tick him off.” She looked him directly in the eye. “Whether you like him or not, if we are going to compete with Fulton we need him.”
    “I know.” Wayne pouted. “After I got over being mad that you didn’t even consult me, I thought about it. I know why you hired him. I just wish you had hired someone else.”
    “There was no one else, and if he hadn’t been on hard times lately, we wouldn’t have gotten him. So play nice.”
    He sank down in the big guest chair, frustration radiating from his pores. “He did fix the oven and help us get the Centerfield order out on time.”
    “See? He’s already proven his worth. The old oven acting up again?”
    “Yeah, we’re gonna have to get that taken care of, now that we are doing all these big orders.”
    “I know,” Sophie answered, wondering where the money was going to come from. “Did Dante get that back room cleaned up and livable?”
    “Yeah, he and Lonnie have been in there all morning. Have you noticed how closely Lonnie’s been sticking to Dante lately?”
    She chuckled. “He’s about the only one of us with the patience to answer all her questions.”
    “I don’t know. I think it’s more than that. I think you may need to say something to Dante, let him know that Lonnie’s not like other girls. He might misunderstand her attachment, know what I mean?”
    Sophie hid a small smile. It always surprised her how protective Wayne had become of them over the past few years. When he’d shown up looking for a job four years ago he’d been a recently released