If she’d hoped to keep the table to herself, though, she was out of luck and within seconds the empty chair was filled. With her pastry gone, she pulled the paperback she was reading from her bag and opened it, folding it back on itself and holding it with one hand as she sipped her coffee with the other.

‘That damages the spine, you know.’

A man’s voice. Jodie didn’t look up. If she ignored him, he’d leave her alone.

‘It splits the spine and loosens the pages. Happened to me once, I didn’t notice until I got to the last page and found it wasn’t there. I was gutted. I had to wait until I went into a book shop to find it and read the end.’

He was speaking as though they were having a conversation, as if they knew each other. Hoping if she kept her head down, she’d freeze him out, Jodie tried to concentrate on her book but she was conscious of the bulk of the man sitting opposite even if she couldn’t see his face.

‘Must be a good book.’

She looked up then, exasperated, but whatever sharp words were on the tip of her tongue they tumbled off before being said. It had been a difficult shift, she was certainly weary from too many days working with too few staff, but tired and grumpy as she was, she was a woman and not immune to the sight of the gorgeous creature sitting opposite.

Dark hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin, he looked Spanish, maybe Italian and wore a crumpled cotton shirt rolled up at the sleeves to show muscular forearms. His shoulders were broad, the fingers wrapped around his mug unusually long and slim in comparison. And he was smiling at her.

‘Yes, it is.’ She dropped her eyes back to it, tried to ignore him but she could feel him looking at her and couldn’t concentrate. Shutting the book with a snap, she shoved it into her handbag, drained her coffee and put the empty cup down. ‘Well, time to go,’ she said with a nod his direction, feeling for her jacket, wanting to get up and leave before she did or said anything stupid. Like staying when he asked her to, like saying yes when he offered to get her another coffee, like humming along to the silly Dean Martin song that was playing, and feeling a certain rush of pleasure when he turned to look across the café at her as he stood waiting in the queue.

When he returned with another cappuccino for her and an Americano for himself, he managed to slide his chair a little closer to her. ‘Easier to hear you, it’s a bit noisy in here.’

‘It’s not a place for conversation really.’ She added sugar to her drink and took a sip. ‘You’ve not been here before obviously or you’d know.’