She didn't notice him; or rather she pretended she didn't. Resolutely, her eyes were trained on the pages of her book. His gaze was just as firmly set on her slim legs. "May I sit here?" He asked, hands gingerly holding a coffee cup, the little cardboard ring nowhere to be seen. A note of irritation colored her face. "No you may not." She said primly, eyes returning to her book. He hated to press but it had been a long day. "That's a couch you're sitting on, not an armchair. There's room enough."

He had her there but the idea of a strange male (if a rather good-looking one) sitting too close to her while she indulged her craving was distasteful. "There are other places to sit, aren't there?" She said, raising an eyebrow at him. There were two empty arm chairs across from her and tables and chairs in the café. The man grinned. "But is there a comparably lovely woman to sit next to?" He asked playfully. She allowed herself a small smile. "Now you're just flirting."

"Naturally. So can we share a couch?" He had an unapologetic air about him that ordinarily would be charming but at a time like this was just annoying.

"No. And it's a loveseat." She said crossly. Didn't he have other things to do?

"It's nice that you think so. Can I sit there?"

Unbelievable. "Why are you intent on sitting here?"

"Why are you making this an issue?"

"I'm reading!" She shot back. He was silent. "I'm sorry." She felt sorry too, for yelling. "Me too." He left then, taking his now cold coffee and she settled in to read.

"What are you reading?" A voice somewhere beside her earlobe enquired. Startled, her head whirled to smash into his forehead and upset the nearly full coffee cup all over her and worse, the book.

"YOU LOUSY CLOD!" She shrieked, hands flying down her front to scrub at her sodden blouse and skirt. "Jesus, oh shit, here let me pay for that- "The stranger reached for the book but his hand was slapped away. "Don't touch that. I'll pay for it." She snapped. Damnation and Hell! This man was the bane of her troubles! The outfit might be salvageable but the book, not so. She had contemplated buying it but in the state it was in, she'd be better off buying another copy as well as this one. "Hey. I'm sorry, I decided to be an ass and I know it. Let me just pay for it." She sighed, relenting. "This is embarrassing." He held his hands up, coffee cup left discarded on the carpet. "I promise I won't look at it or laugh. Scouts' honor."

She handed it to him facedown and they walked down to the cash register, her surreptitiously picking up another copy of the ruined book, hardback this time. He paid and tipping an imaginary hat (like a pompous ass, she thought) bade her a good night. "Thanks." She said shyly, holding the plastic bag that contained a coffee-free book. He nodded and left.

Later that night she turned to the page the receipt mark, the same page she had last read in the bookstore. Shrugging she scanned it and then turned it over. Someone had written a quick message in an untidy scrawl of black ink:

A dirty romance novel? I never would have thought.

Call me.

Beneath it were ten digits.

Her screams of rage echoed into the night.