When I did look, he was already seated at the table beside ours, as if he had always been there. Long legs crossed at the knee. A cream jacket left open over a white shirt, the collar undone. Golden hair, long and tousled and catching the window light as though it had been brushed by it. He was beautiful in a way that made people forget to be polite about it.
Shona came out from the back, saw him, and froze with a tray in her hands. Her lips parted. Then she smiled at nothing and walked toward his table like someone following a song.
Marcus Sterling turned his head, and his smile reached me first.
It was a lovely smile. Warm. Amused. It did not reach his eyes at all.
"Riley," he said. "You've let your hair grow. It suits you."
Riley did not move. She did not breathe. I felt her go cold beside me, and I put my hand over hers on the table without thinking.
"Good morning," I said pleasantly. "Do you usually invite yourself to other people's tables, Mr. Sterling?"
