The waiter gave Shalma Hughes a knowing look, then left the menu behind and quietly retreated.
A short while later, the same waiter returned. Holding a light green, shawl-like fleece blanket, he handed it to Shalma, then silently stepped away once more.
Shalma wasn't stupid; she knew perfectly well that this was Julian Winslow's doing. Her gaze softened as she looked at the blanket in her hands before draping it over her legs. The pale green fabric perfectly complemented her fair skin, exuding a pure, natural elegance.
"Are you fond of the color green?" Shalma suddenly asked, a bit surprised herself at the question.
Julian picked up the teapot resting nearby. Taking the glass in front of her, he elegantly poured her some water. "What makes you say that?"
"It's just a feeling. If you'd rather not answer, you can stay silent," Shalma replied nonchalantly as she watched him pour.
