"My name is Jese Calhoun," he told her as he seated himself at the table.

"Oh."

"You seem surprised."

"I never imagined you could have anything as common as a name."

With a slight smile he continued speaking, "Do you cause brutal assaults often?"

Nova shrugged off her robe and tucked it prettily over her chair. "Not quite as often as you might think."  Her stomach growled as the waiter laid out a selection of cakes.  She hadn't eaten all day.  She'd been saving the food for her mother and the workers. She wondered if pocketing cakes was beneath her too... or if that sensation was only reserved for jewelry.

Nova noticed his eyes on her. Hard. Suspicious. Why was he watching her like that?

Her eyes devoured the assortment of sweetmeats. Freshly turned out coffee cream, shortbread, rout drops, shrewsburys, and sponge cake covered in boiled custard.

He waved for her to start. Selecting a large piece of sponge cake she lifted it to her lips. The sweetened cream melted against her tongue, and the powdered sugar tickled her nostrils.

"You lie as pretty as you look."

Pretty? Was he teasing her? She flushed with embarrassment. Women nibbled at cakes in a genteel fashion, they didn't eat them as hungrily as she was doing.  Edging the pretty plate away (in the wild hope that the distance would subdue her), Nova sipped her pink lemonade, indifferent. "If your mind is already made up, then I shan't waste my breath to change it." Now that a tiny portion of food had made its way to her stomach, she had turned ravenous. Her stomach rumbled audibly.  

He was watching her so closely that his gaze scorched her cheeks. She didn't dare look up, had their eyes met Nova was sure she would have self combusted.

Instead she admired the chandeliers and plush rugs across the hardwood floors for long enough for him to finish his appraisal.  The Hotel's luxurious surroundings convincing weary patrons that there wasn't a dirty and dusty cowtown just outside the solid doors, and shutters.

Nova peeked up. He was still eyeing her openly. Why was he staring at her like that? 

"Are you married?" He asked.

A brief silence. "No."

"You paused. Was there someone?"

"Nothing, it was no one."

There was someone. She'd waited on her porch every evening for the last nine years hoping that Brandon McCabe would return from war. Nova had only known him for a summer, and then he'd been enlisted. The season she'd spent with him was like one long uninterrupted day.  That day ended when he'd headed south to fight.

Before he'd left he'd promised that when he got back he'd make an honest woman out of her.  But he hadn't returned.  Nova had watched all the men riding back, the wagons pulling supplies, and the injured. She hadn't spotted Brandon. Not his body, not his horse, and not one of his provisions.

Nova had felt that she would have known if he'd died.  That they were joined across the miles.  She'd hadn't felt anything.  So she'd waited.

With the time that had passed she'd forgotten what he'd looked like.  His personality, however, had remained in her memory. He was full of restless energy.  Brandon had never been content to lie about in the sun like she had been.   Instead he'd marched up and down the banks of the river as she'd rested.  He knew how to make her laugh, and for a woman so full of responsibility she'd embraced that luxury.

Her father hadn't looked on him with such favorable eyes. He'd called Brandon a whole bunch of names.  Like: greedy, underhanded, deceitful. The list had gone on endlessly.  Her father's foul temper had been infamous. The only people who escaped his wrath were persons so soaked in whiskey that they nearly left a trail of liquid behind them.  Therefore, his thoughts of her childhood sweetheart only strengthened her feelings.

"So that is why you rob the men blind?  Because you have no one to provide for you?"

"What?"  Had she misheard him? "I'm unsure of the meaning behind your words."

"I don't speak in subtext.  You have my cufflink." One moment he was eating languidly, and the next moment he was across the table, sliding his hand into her pockets. She felt a surge of adrenaline at her breast, and her heart slammed into her ribs. His touch thoroughly confused her. She was wary of him, wanted to avoid him, and yet was inexplicably drawn closer. Unsuccessful with his search, Jese's eyes fixed on her corset.  "So it is hidden there?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just give it back.  You can hold the pathetic story of how destitute you've become." 

"If I had it I would give it to you." So someone else had taken the trinket?  But when could that have happened?  Had they been so caught up in their conversation that an opportunistic patron had taken that moment?

Nova could see it written all over his face how much he wanted her. Not as a man might want the hand of the woman he loved but with open hunger, desire for her body alone. Her heart rate quickened, and she longed to shield her eyes so that he wouldn't witness her pupils dilate. The tension caused by his gaze made her finally understand how a wild horse must feel when it was cornered by a hungry mountain lion.

Silence.

"Well... now you have realized that I have nothing." She went to stand.

"No." His voice stopped her. "Please, sit. Eat something." He waved to the food.

She sat.

"You are famished."

She blushed. So, it was it that obvious? She chose a shortbread, and tried to restrain herself from eating greedily. "Where are you from?"

"I don't want to talk about myself."

"Oh." So he wanted to eat in silence? She could easily do that, if it weren't for the bold way that he was watching her. She imagined herself watching him in the same way.  Undressing him with her eyes... was he trying to work out where his cufflink was hidden?

She suspected he would have a heavenly body. Nova could almost feel his broad muscled chest against hers, his tongue tracing patterns down her neck. 

Taking a large gulp of her lemonade she felt the slight acidic taste torment her tongue.  She longed to snatch up his strong drink and down it in one gulp in the hope that the alcohol would calm her senses. But she suspected that it would be like throwing gasoline onto a fire.

"You don't talk much," Jese observed.

"Neither do you."  The moment had arrived for her to leave this banquet for a Queen and return to her life as a pauper.  "I'm awfully tired, I must return home." There were problems awaiting her there.  At least now she had some food in her stomach.

"Let me find you another drink, and then I'll take you there myself."

She glanced down to find an empty glass in her hand. The tension had obviously made her thirstier than usual. "OK," she smiled. "I need to powder my nose." Standing up she made her way to the ladies room.

*

Jese waited a good half an hour for his companion to re-emerge from the powder room, his eyes not leaving the door once.

In that time he'd seen three elderly women wander in and out. The only other person to emerge was a young boy in a filthy cowboy shirt hauling a large bag over his scrawny little shoulder.

With a sigh Jese planted his drink on the table and marched to the door, swinging it wide open he trod in. "India?"

He threw the door open to what seemed like a vacant toilette. "India?" She was nowhere to be seen.