At this juncture, a helpful waiter appeared at Maya's elbow and asked in an appallingly distinct tone:
"Would you care for another drink, Miss Cara Nome, or do you wish to eat now?"
"An understandable mistake, since it's such a common name," said Dark, sitting down opposite her. He turned pale-blue eyes, remote and filled with light, on the waiter, and added: "She'll have another drink, and bring me one of the same."
The waiter left, and Maya removed her dark glasses to level furious black eyes at Dark.
"I could call the manager and complain that you're annoying me, you know," she said.
"You could," he agreed somberly. "You seem to be a very efficient tattletale. Or are you going to try to pretend that you weren't the one responsible for the raid on the college?"
She recognized that she was well in for it. He was not going to play a game of pretense. Well, she had tried—partly, anyway—to do as Nuwell wanted.
Very deliberately, she opened her purse, realizing that Dark was watching her closely, all his muscles tense. She took out a cigarette case and a lighter, laying them side by side on the table, and he relaxed visibly.
Maya extracted a cigarette and placed it between her lips casually. She picked up the lighter and balanced it in her hand.
"I assume that you're not armed, Mr. Kensington," she said.