A young waiter materialized the instant Rayne's sandal touched the patio outside the Stonebar, but when he started to lead her to the only vacant table, she hesitated.
For one thing, she needed to get away from the tropical sunlight before it scorched her fair skin right through her sunscreen. For another, the three teenage boys, who she'd been told were the president's sons on a vacation, were eating at the next table. They'd already tried their youthful, persistent best to flirt with her yesterday right in front of their bodyguards, and now they were eyeing her with renewed hope.
"I think I'd rather eat inside," she told the waiter while glaring slightly at the boys.
The waiter was truly distressed at her words. "But you would have to eat at the bar, unless you want to wait for a table to become available."
