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Maya stepped inside Nadine’s Seafood Restaurant. The first blast of frigid air from the restaurant was a welcome contrast to the hot, sticky sea air outside, but now a chill seeped into her skin.
She scanned the waiting lounge. Her half sister, Kendra, wasn’t among the patrons waiting to be seated. Nor was she answering her cell. A knot tightened in Maya’s belly. Kendra was a stickler for punctuality and her cell phone was practically an appendage.
Something isn’t right.
Maya rubbed her arms, covered in goose bumps. She resisted the urge to adjust the strapless bodice of her dress. A birthday gift from Kendra, the thigh-skimming, baby-doll dress was shorter than anything she’d buy for herself. This was her last birthday as a twentysomething, so she’d agreed to wear it. After tonight, it would go to the back of her closet, where it belonged.
She was twenty-nine now and curvier than she’d ever been. Five years of marriage, two beautiful daughters and a nasty divorce did that to a girl. Better to keep her imperfections under wraps.
“Hello, ma’am. Do you have a reservation for this evening?” The hostess’s cheery voice dragged Maya out of her daze.
She cringed. Two hours of prep and makeup and she still couldn’t avoid being called ma’am. “Yes. Under the name Kendra Williams, I think.”
A frown formed on the hostess’s thin lips. “Sorry, I don’t have a reservation for Kendra Williams.”
“Then it’s under my name, Maya Alvarez.”
“Ah...there you are.” The hostess grinned. “Happy birthday to you, Ms. Alvarez. I’ll seat you as soon as the rest of your party arrives. If you’d like to have a seat—” the girl gestured toward the bank of leather sofas beneath a window spanning the front of the restaurant “—or perhaps you’d prefer to wait at the bar.”
Climb onto a bar stool in this dress? Not happening.
Maya thanked the girl, then surveyed the available seats. On one sofa, a sliver of space remained between two women chatting in what sounded like rapid-fire Chinese. An end seat remained on another where a couple was seated with a wailing infant.
The final sofa had a single occupant, a man wearing a charcoal-gray suit that fit his long, athletic frame like a well-designed glove. A patterned tie, in nearly the same deep shade of red as her dress, punctuated his crisp white shirt. One leg crossed over the other, the man stroked the neat beard that crawled along his strong jawline, connecting with a thin mustache. His deep tan hinted at long days spent at the beach, rather than in a tanning bed. The sides of his hair were cut low, but the crown had just enough length that it curled into dark, thick ringlets. She shivered at the brief sensation of running her fingers through them.
She
