paused to say something to one of the other servers.
This time she was sure he’d glanced her way, as did the other member of the wait staff. Her spine straightened. Was there something wrong with her hair? Did she have a piece of snail stuck between her teeth?
Or maybe he was laughing at her poor choice in men.
He hadn’t come back to the table since they’d started eating. In a place like this, that seemed a bit unusual.
Marty was still talking, totally oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t paying attention to him.
Across the room, another woman joined the pair of waiters. This one was dressed in a maid’s uniform, her hands tightly clasped together as she said something and then left.
Chelsea glanced around. No one seemed alarmed or found their behavior out of the ordinary. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Especially when she spotted two men in black suits come to attention. They were seated a few tables away and she’d thought they were CEOs at first having a business lunch, but when one touched his ear—where a dark cord coiled down the side of his neck—she swallowed.
Security for the hotel?
The men both got up at the same time, dropping their napkins onto the table and walking away, their plates still half full of food. There was no leather binder on their table indicating they’d gotten their bill either.
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