By Deborah Weetman
Published by Deborah Weetman at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Deborah Weetman
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Her shining hair, swept at each side like a cresting wave, revealed a perfectly manicured face. The man came for coffee every morning, hoping for a glimpse or a possible encounter. Today, luck shone his way, for she strode to his table, hips swinging, pad poised in her delicate fingers.
‘Good morning, Sir. May I take your order?’
He could not restrain the smile that burst from his lips as he ordered coffee. She maintained decorum, but he saw her eyes dancing, challenging him as she wrote on her pad. Finally, she withdrew to the kitchen. His eyes followed her neatly shaped bottom, shifting under the confines of her black skirt until it disappeared behind the door. He returned to his newspaper and began to read the headlines. Before long, he spied her emerging with his coffee. His gaze fixed on her dreamy eyes, melting into their warmth when suddenly he was catapulted into fear. The coffee cup came crashing down, a million fragments ricocheting across the marble floor. It took a moment to register before his body reacted. He flew to his feet and lunged for the woman, covering her body as they both fell to the floor. She could feel his weight, warm and comforting until the severity of the situation flooded her consciousness. Bullets shot erratically above their heads. He had to think, quickly. He rolled off and grabbing roughly, tugged her towards the kitchen door. She was sobbing uncontrollably.