“I was just going to seat him.”

Vanessa glanced toward Harris.

Her smile was polite, but her eyes were not.

“We have a small table near the back.”

Harris looked toward the window.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he said gently, “I’d like the booth by the window.”

Vanessa followed his gaze.

That booth was one of the best seats in the restaurant.

“It’s reserved,” she said.