turned her head to look away.
She found herself focusing in on the wallpaper while she considered changing chairs so the couple wouldn’t be in her line of vision. They obviously didn’t need an audience tonight.
The wallpaper in front of her was starting to peel at one of the seams. For all its venerated reputation, the Quayside sure did need the services of a good decorator.
She touched the loose seam with her fingertip, and pried away an inch of the brittle paper. It flaked off in her hand.
“Your wine, ma’am,” the waiter startled her again, and she wondered if he practiced sneaking up on people.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Are you ready to order?”
Jenna shook her head. “Not yet.” She wasn’t in a hurry.
As she sipped her wine, her attention kept wandering back to the wall beside her. Curious, she shifted in her seat, taking a closer look at the smooth, surface revealed under the wallpaper. It was drywall, probably put up in the sixties. And, since the hotel was more than fifty years old, that meant somebody had renovated the restaurant at least once.
She traced the seam partway up the wall, drawing closer. She pulled up on her knees, lifting the candle for a better look. If this was a renovation, what was the original design?
She glanced around the restaurant. Lattice dividers and carved, stone statues broke the large room into sections. Hers was definitely an outside wall. If the original designer had more brains than the renovator, there might be window openings back there. She felt a hum of excitement at the thought of more windows.
With all that light, all that view to play with, she could cheerfully blow the entire redecorating budget on the restaurant alone. The possibilities were positively endless.
She shimmied up higher. Glancing around to make sure the other two diners were still making moon eyes at each other and ignoring her, she knocked gently on the wall. It sounded solid. Drat.
She put the candle down and knocked again, a little to the left this time. Still solid. A statue kept her from trying further to the left, so she stretched up to reach above it, glancing at the other outside walls, counting off the windows and trying to eyeball the pattern. She reached up and knocked.
Hollow.
“Yes!” she whispered. Pay dirt.
She rapped her knuckles in a horizontal line, trying to ascertain the size of the opening. Then she went vertical, stretching up, standing in her seat. The hollow sound went up and up. Excitement hummed through her veins.
If the perimeter of the restaurant was all window openings, she was going to fill this mausoleum with light.
“Is something wrong?” A deep voice behind her startled her.
Jenna turned swiftly, bashing her shin against the tabletop, recognizing the security guard from the lobby earlier and knocking over the candle all in a split second.
“Ouch,” she cried, leaning over quickly to blow out the candle. Her breath bent the flame then, to her horror, it leapt higher, catching the wax-drenched tablecloth.
“Watch your hair,” the man gasped, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her out of the chair. He held her tight with one arm, and swiftly snuffed the flame with his other palm.
But it didn’t go out, and he jerked his hand back.
Panic surged in Jenna. Any second now the whole cloth was going to go up. The woman at the other table exclaimed and pointed.
Tyler grabbed Jenna’s water glass and dumped it on the spreading flame. It hissed, and smoked, sputtering out, leaving a messy, saucer-sized black hole in the middle of the tablecloth.
“You okay?” Tyler asked in a deep voice that rumbled near her ear. His arm was still firmly around her waist.
“Fine,” she answered, only slightly shaken. The throb on the front of her shin bone told her she’d have a bruise tomorrow. But no real damage had been done to the table, thank goodness.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem,” he replied.
The spilled water worked its way to the edge of the table and trickled onto the floor. Jenna picked up her napkin and began dabbing at the mess.
Tyler reached for the second napkin. He dropped his arm from around her waist, but they were still shoulder to shoulder.
“Dare I ask?” He tipped his head to look at her as he blotted the water. His eyebrows quirked, and she found herself staring into the deepest, darkest, bluest eyes in the world. They were framed with thick, black lashes and shadowed by straight brows. Whoever decorated this guy had done a bang-up job.
“Ask what?” she managed as her pulse reacted to the fact that she was touching an extremely good-looking man. His biceps were rock hard, and his body heat radiated through his cotton shirt, warming her bare arm.
“Is everything all right here?” The waiter’s voice interrupted. His words conveyed concern, but his expression was more exasperated than worried.
“We could use a new tablecloth,” said Tyler evenly, dropping the wet napkin and guiding Jenna back a couple of steps. She didn’t fight the continued body contact, since she kind of liked touching him.
“Of course,” he finally said. He gathered Jenna’s wineglass and the silver setting, then scooped up the tablecloth.
Tyler glanced back down at Jenna as the man walked away. A grin formed on his face, showing off the barest hint of a dimple. “Dare I ask what you’re up to?”
“Experiencing the ambiance,” she said, her shoulder still brushing against his arm. She should have felt crowded by his proximity in the small space, but it honestly felt flirty.
“Do you always stand on your chair to experience the ambiance?” His leg shifted, brushing once against her stockings, sending her nerve endings into a tizzy.
“Oh, that,” she breathed, waving a hand toward the wall behind them. “I was just looking for windows.”
His gaze shifted to the solid wall. “I hate to be the one to tell you this…” He turned the full force of his attention back to her, and she sucked in a tight breath.
From his tousled dark hair, to his devil-may-care smile, to his deep voice and broad shoulders, this guy was drop-dead sexy.
“I think they’re behind the wall,” she explained, struggling to understand her strong reaction to a virtual stranger.
“I take it you’ve got big plans for the place?”
“It’s got loads of potential.” She should move away now, break the subtle contact between their arms and sit back down. She really should.
He glanced around the restaurant. “Not a fan of early bordello?”
She smiled. That was it. The red velvet, the orange-toned lighting, the
